22. Chapter 22

Chapter twenty-two

Amelia

A long, sleepless night left me exhausted and ill prepared for the morning light seeping through my window. I had not gone down to dinner last night, and I was hesitant to leave my room this morning. Facing everything, and everyone, was terrifying considering I did not know what to expect.

Once my maid had assisted me with getting dressed, I stared at myself in the looking glass as she did my hair in a neat coiffure.

"All done, miss," she said, taking a step back from me to admire her work. "Will there be anything else?"

"No, I thank you."

She curtsied but seemed to pause in the middle of it. "Forgot to mention. Brought that with me this mornin'." She pointed to the writing desk in the corner, and I gasped when I saw my diary resting there.

"Where did you find this?" I asked after rushing to that side of the room and picking up the leatherbound book. I had to touch it, feel it in my grasp, to believe it was real.

"Didn't. Miss Grace asked me to bring it to ye."

I turned to face my lady's maid. " Grace found it?"

She merely nodded.

I bit down my emotions. "I see. Thank you."

With the dismissal, she left me alone in the bedchamber. I turned the diary over in my hands, shaking my head. "Grace. I cannot believe it! She told me she hadn't seen it."

Hadn't she ?

Now that I thought on it, Grace had made no such declaration. She had only stated that she believed I would find it eventually. Clever. And annoying.

"I will have a talk with her," I muttered, flipping open the cover. Tucked within was a loose piece of foolscap. I removed the piece, careful unfolding it.

Dear Amelia,

Please do not be angry with me. I know you have been distraught since the moment this went missing, and after reading it, I can understand why. Yes, I have broken your trust by scouring this diary from cover to cover, but I will never regret doing so. I am glad to have learned the true nature of your relationship with the duchess. Furthermore, I am glad to know the truth about our mother. I cannot claim it was not a surprise and will admit the information left me rather shocked for days. Mother and father had always shown their love for one another so openly in our presence. It was difficult to believe things could have been different.

But I do believe you, Amelia. I hope you would grant me the same when I tell you this changes nothing between us. You are my sister. I love you, and nothing shall come between us. You are not our mother, and her choices, good or bad, are no reflection on who you are as a person. You have always been a bright example of goodness, charity, and compassion. Selfless and stalwart. It is your actions that define you, not Mother's.

I must also address one more point, and it is this one I wish for you to heed above all others, for I fear you will lose the happiness you deserve should you not. Do not let your concern for my future prevent you from a life of happiness. When the earl proposes, say you will marry him. I know you love him. Even before I read your diary, I knew. But I beg of you, my dear sister, to not allow a threat to my reputation to stain your love match. I could never forgive myself if you threw away your happiness for me. I would prefer to be ruined than witness such a thing.

Yours,

Grac e

Tears pricked at my eyes, and relief flooded over me. I had wanted Grace to know the truth. I had wished for her confidence since the moment Papa told me the truth. But I had also been afraid—terrified that my illegitimacy would change the way Grace perceived me.

But it hadn't. The truth had not turned Grace or Rowe away from me, nor had it seemed to Lord Emerson. If they could see past my parentage, see my mother's mistakes as her own and not mine, then why should I not as well?

I drew in a slow breath and released it. Regardless of any of that, the one thing I could not do was marry James. I deserved happiness, as did the earl, but so did Grace. How could I make the decision to claim my own when doing so would strip my sister's away?

I simply couldn't. I was her older sister. It was my duty to protect her. Guide her. I could not watch Grace suffer from my decisions, and the consequences of that struck me ill. The one thing I wanted was within my grasp, and I had to watch it float away.

With a heavy heart, I made my way to the library. Sabrina had visited me early this morning with orders that I meet her there once I had broken my fast. Her clipped words were a firm reminder that love was not the only thing slipping through my fingers. Freedom was as distant a dream as ever, and while the reminder added to my despondency, my heart had also swelled with sympathy.

Sabrina, even in her cold tone and impassive gaze, had not concealed her emotions. Her eyes were puffy and red, as if she had spent the early hours crying. I suspected her father was the cause of such tears, and while that did not condone her actions or how she treated me, I understood her in ways most people did not, privileged as I had often been to witness her interactions with the man.

With her mother having passed some years ago and no siblings to speak of, Sabrina had no one to come to her defense. She was, inherently, alone. While my circumstances were not the most favorable, I was blessed with so many people who would come to my aid. Rowe and Grace had proven as much.

Papa had loved me wholeheartedly and claimed me as his own daughter even after discovering the truth. I was surrounded by people who would give anything to see me happy, and Sabrina did not have a single person, to my knowledge, who would fight for her .

It was no wonder she had become the ruthless duchess she was today. She acted with the need for survival in the only way she knew how.

I opened the library door and stepped inside. Sabrina sat at the mahogany table in the back corner, her chin resting on her fists, oblivious to my entrance. In front of her sat an inkwell and quill, and beside them a folded piece of foolscap.

I watched her for a moment, noting a smudge of ink stained her pinky and a tear slipped down her cheek. My heart squeezed. Under different circumstances, perhaps we could have been friends, but her threats had placed a barrier between us that I wasn't certain could ever be conquered. I may feel sympathy for the duchess, but trusting her was another thing entirely.

I crossed the room, and my footsteps alerted Sabrina to my arrival. She glanced up, quickly dashing away the tear that lingered near her chin, and straightened in the chair. "About time, Amelia. Must you always keep me waiting?"

"My apologies," I said, taking a seat next to her. "You wished to speak with me?"

"Yes." Whatever remained of her melancholy dispersed, and she fixed me with a hard stare. "I've known of your feelings for the earl since we were in London, and it seems you have convinced him to return them."

I opened my mouth to deny her claim, but was there any point? If Sabrina had known for a long time where my heart lay, there was nothing I could do to change that. Still, not knowing how she would respond to James's growing regard for me was truly terrifying.

"You do not deny it." One of her dark brows raised, and her lips followed suit. I realized then that her anger would be matched only by the new level of power she held over me. I was caught, struggling not to drown in her web of threats.

Beneath the table, I rubbed my hands against my skirt, though it would do nothing to dispel the perspiration within my gloves. "I will not deny my feelings for the earl. Where his affections lay, I cannot claim to know."

It was a lie, and Sabrina knew it, scoffing and rolling her eyes at my statement. "Let's not waste time pretending, Amelia. The man made it clear he intends to propose and not to me."

"Sabrina— "

"I am not angry."

I blinked away my shock. "You are not?"

"Frustrated, perhaps, but not angry. James has made it clear he has no wish to resume our courtship. I had decided my efforts would be better spent on someone who will appreciate my position, but…" Sabrina bit down on her lip, and her lashes fluttered, barely concealing the glossiness of her eyes. "But my father is determined I make a connection now, so I shall carry on."

"He wishes you to marry the earl, even after James made it clear he would refuse you?"

"James has connections Father wants to use to his advantage," said Sabrina. "So, yes. He insists I marry the man, whether he wants me or not." She looked at me for a moment, seeming to consider her words before continuing. "I did try to convince him against the continuation of this scheme. That is why he came. Because he feared I would go against his wishes."

I still could not fathom Sabrina giving up, and my confusion must have shown for she continued. "I may be stubborn in my determination, but I am not an imbecile. Why waste time on a cause that is completely lost to me? I cannot compete with love, it seems, but my father is not as easily dissuaded."

"Surely there are plenty among the ton that could provide him with the same connections? Perhaps better ones?"

For the first time since I'd known her, Sabrina looked uncomfortable. Her gaze dropped to the table, and she shifted with unease. "That may be true now, but I cannot count on anyone showing me interest in the future. Father sees this as my only opportunity and has declared he will disown me should I not acquiesce. My dowry, as you already know, was not substantial. The arrangement my father made with the duke leaned toward investments and promises of financial gain. I was little more than the bow decorating the package. In any case, my dowry is not large enough to sustain my independence, and I cannot afford to go against his wishes when my chances of remarrying are precarious at best."

I wasn't certain what she meant, unless she believed the Duke of Rochester would tell everyone of her egregious actions toward him. Was it possible Sabrina feared rumors as much as I did? I hadn't believed they would be enough to attain her silence, but now I wondered if perhaps I had possessed the winning cards all along, thanks to James's efforts on my behalf.

But I didn't relish the idea of threatening her. I would be no better than Sabrina if I did. Given the duke had evicted the duchess to the dower house and her dowry would not cover the purchase of a new estate—at least not one as grand as she'd become accustomed to—Sabrina was at the mercy of her father. She had no family to take her in. No friends.

The realization barreled through me, and I nearly gasped. Sabrina was trapped , forced into obedience by threats and dependency. Until now, I had never thought we were similar in any way, and it prodded me to speak.

But what if neither of us were as caged as we believed? For so long, I had acted with the thought of how the consequences would affect others, with little regard to my self worth or happiness. Perhaps I had possessed more freedom than I'd realized. I just hadn't allowed myself to see it.

Perhaps Sabrina could not see it either.

"You know," I said quietly. "You're a duchess. Your father has no say in your life now. You don't have to do what he asks. You could find a man who suits you. Perhaps fall in love. There is still time."

"Fall in love?" For a moment, Sabrina's gaze grew distant. Had she ever considered the possibility of love? I wondered if she'd been given the chance. Either way, the consideration lasted so briefly, I nearly missed it. Sabrina grimaced. "If only that were true. Without my father's generosity, I shall end up destitute."

She stared at me for a moment, as if debating whether to trust me. As if debating how much vulnerability to express. She lifted her trembling chin, seeming to come to a decision. "None of that matters. I will do what I must. If my father insists I marry the earl, then it is in my best interest that I do so. You will assist me."

"Assist how?" My stomach clenched before Sabrina even responded.

"If Lord Emerson will not have me willingly, then the answer is simple. I will prod at his honor. Make him marry me to avoid scandal."

My jaw went slack, and I thought I might become ill. "Scandal? What do you intend to do?"

"Is it so difficult to understand, Amelia? I will force the man to marry me. I just need the proper circumstances. I may be a widow, but if my father were to catch us alone—compromised—then he would have every right to demand we marry."

I wasn't certain James wouldn't choose a duel over saving Sabrina's honor, but I also knew him to be one of the most honorable men of my acquaintance. Would he marry Sabrina if it meant saving her from scandal? The idea left my stomach tossing and churning. There would be no happiness for anyone in such a match. Save for Mr. Perry.

"Sabrina, I beg you to think this through. What if the earl refuses? That would put them both at risk. Your father would call for pistols, and they could end up hurt—or worse."

Sabrina stood and moved away from the table, her arms wrapped about her stomach. "Then that is the way of things. Lord Emerson will either marry me or face death. Father is an excellent shot." She closed her eyes, and her brow furrowed as if the idea truly brought her pain. She may have not cared for James's heart during their courtship, but I did not believe she wished to see him dead, either.

"Please." I stood, tears hanging from the ends of my lashes. "You can stop all of this before it even begins. There need not be a duel at all."

"That is for the earl to decide." She opened her eyes, and her shoulders deflated. I could not recall ever seeing her so dejected. She was not the monstrous captor I often thought her, but a woman desperate to escape impossible expectations.

If I could convince her to take a stand against her father, then perhaps we could both find freedom. "In part, it will be his choice if it comes to that. But here, right now, it is for you to decide. You have the power to put an end to it."

"I cannot," she whispered, the desperation and agony in her tone all too familiar. Sabrina shook her head and inhaled deeply. The vulnerable woman of the past few minutes disappeared as if she were nothing more than smoke rising in a darkening sky. "You are the key to helping me pull this off. You will send Lord Emerson a note requesting to meet you in the gardens. A secluded part of the gardens. The hedges near the Italian statues will do."

"What? No, I—"

"You will. And if you do this last thing for me, I swear to never reveal your secret to anyone. Consider it forgotten. Inconsequential. You, the daughter of some poor farmer, can mingle about in society as if you belonged there, and no one will call your sister's legitimacy into question."

I would be free; Grace would be safe. I wasn't sure I could even trust Sabrina would keep her word. Still, the chance sparked hope in me, hope that was quickly doused as I realized I finally knew what the cost would be for my freedom. James, the man I loved, would spend the rest of his life with Sabrina. He would spend his life unhappy.

Or find an early grave.

"You wish me to lure James to the garden so you can ensnare him?" My voice cracked. This was the worst thing Sabrina had ever asked of me. Not only did my conscience protest, but it would be pure agony to go through with.

"What if he doesn't come?" I asked, grasping the last bit of hope.

Sabrina stepped toward me, a flurry of emotion in her eyes. Desperation, fear, and hesitation, though it was small by comparison. "He will come for you, and I will do what I must. My father will arrive at just the right moment, and then it will be all over." She grabbed a sheet of foolscap from the table and shoved it into my hands. "Write the note. Tell him to meet you. All you need do is stay out of my way. After that, you're free to do whatever you please, but know that if you refuse me, I will have this franked to London." She held up her own piece of paper and wafted it in front of me. "Do as I ask, and this will be burned."

I didn't need to ask what it was. She had dangled the letter detailing my parentage in front of me before. To watch it burn would be an important key to putting the past behind me for good. But how could I save Grace's happiness—my own happiness—without also stealing it from James? It seemed an impossible choice.

You cannot have either without facing her.

Rowe's words echoed through my mind. Grace's letter penetrated my thoughts. I knew what I needed to do.

I sat down and dipped the quill into the inkwell.