Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

F or the first time since her arrival at Stanhope, Amelia felt comfortable enough to navigate the castle with ease.

She had established a routine, leaving her bedchamber at an appropriate time, starting her mornings with breakfast and a good book in the east wing's library. By afternoon, she embraced her role as the Duchess, overseeing and managing the various household affairs. As the daylight began to fade, she would retreat to the castle's splendid garden. This lush, verdant sanctuary, adorned with vibrant flowers and meticulously trimmed hedges, offered her a peaceful refuge from her simple life. On the odd days, she would even pen a letter to Dorothy there.

Interspersed between it all were lengthy conversations with Jenny, who she came to realize was quite chatty once she was comfortable, and she even found her appetite again to eat heartily during mealtimes, especially now that she was in full control of the menu.

All in all, the three days went by in relative comfort… save for the fact that she was counting the seconds until Gideon returned.

Each time she heard a carriage pull through the castle's driveway, or the faint creak of the front door, her heart began to race, wondering if he had finally come home. Daily encounters with Thomas, the butler, were tinged with a longing to inquire about the exact moment her husband would arrive. There were countless questions still swirling in her mind, questions about why he targeted her father, and the mystery shrouding the Masked Rogue. Yet, overshadowing her curiosity was a simple, undeniable truth… she missed him.

So much so, that on the third night of his absence, Amelia could not fall asleep. She tossed and turned restlessly in bed with thoughts of him, memories of their intense rendezvous in the dining room plaguing her mind. It filled her with a need that she didn't know how to satisfy, a need that she hadn't a clue how to get rid of.

With an exhale, she sat up. Moonlight sifted through the splits of her drapes, illuminating the room enough for her to see. She flung her covers aside and climbed out of the bed, slipping quietly out of the room with a candle in hand.

Amelia wandered along a labyrinth of corridors, hoping to find the library. Perhaps she could read until exhaustion overcame her and she had no more energy to think about her husband. Each time he infiltrated her mind's eye, a robust desire surged within her, sending her stomach into a flutter of butterflies. A desire for what, however, she couldn't ascertain. His company? That would be absurd!

She paused, placing her hand on her stomach in an attempt to quell the fluttering. Just as she was about to resume her journey, however, a soft thump from a nearby room caught her attention. Amelia froze, her heartbeat echoing loudly in her ears. Another thump followed, leading her to suspect a servant might be the source.

But what could a servant be doing here at such an unconventional hour? She tiptoed towards the door. She quickly realized she wasn't familiar with this particular section of the castle to know what lay on the other side, but her curiosity got the better of her and she gently pushed the door open, stealing a quick glance.

A handful of candles illuminated a chaise and some chairs surrounding a small circular table, revealing it to be one of the castle's parlors. A hulking form was crouched on the ground in the corner, near to the sideboard. Amelia slipped through the door as a note of recognition whispered through her.

The sight of the familiar curls of black hair momentarily left her puzzled. The figure didn't notice that she was approaching from behind, so caught up was he in searching for something on the floor. He had a full glass of brandy on the ground next to him, as if he had set it down there without thinking.

"Gideon?" she called softly.

He jolted, though he remained crouched. Slowly, Gideon turned his head to look up at her.

Amelia's heart stilled in her chest at the sight of him. She had never seen him so haggard, with dark shadows encircling his red-rimmed eyes. He gradually pulled himself up with a groan, then bent down once more to reach for his drink, unsteady on his feet. He staggered and a splash of brandy sloshed over the side onto his hand.

Only then did she realize that the bandage was no longer around his wound. The slice on his finger had opened up and there was a thin line of blood trailing down his hand.

"I dropped it," he mumbled. "Cannot find it."

"What can't you find?" she asked gently. Beyond his evident drunkenness, there was something different about him, something off. Amelia knew she should tread lightly.

Gideon didn't bother answering her. He took a hefty swig from his glass before stumbling into an armchair beside the fireplace, miraculously managing not to spill the remainder of the drink. He sighed deeply, letting his head fall against the backrest of the chair as he closed his eyes.

Amelia watched him for a long moment. Then she turned back, set her candle down, and knelt by the sideboard. Bending slightly, she realized what he had been looking for. She reached underneath the sideboard, retrieving a fallen box, and then made her way toward him.

With gentle movements, she knelt beside him. Gideon started when she tenderly took his injured hand in hers, bolting upright.

"You don't have to," he murmured.

"I want to," she answered without looking at him. She wasn't going to question why she was doing this. Reflection could wait; her current focus was solely on tending to his wound.

Gideon didn't say anything but she could feel his heavy gaze watching her every move. As deftly as she could, Amelia opened the box to reveal the array of clean bandages and salves for minor injuries. She ignored the salves, since she knew nearly nothing about medicine, and reached for the bandage instead.

"Have you called for a physician to see this yet?" she asked, her focus unwavering as she worked on his hand.

"I have not."

"You lecture me for missing meals, yet you neglect your own well-being?"

"It is not the same thing."

"I beg to differ, Your Grace."

"Don't do that." His tone was soft enough to draw her attention. She didn't stop the task of cleaning the blood from his hand.

"Don't do what?" she asked, her voice just barely above a whisper.

"Don't address me with that title. You have been calling me Gideon since our dinner together. I like it better that way."

Amelia bit her bottom lip, lowering her eyes back to his wound. Now that his hand was clean, she gently wrapped the bandage around his finger, acutely aware of the fact his gaze had not once strayed from her face. The tension in the air was so thick that it threatened to choke her, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain that he could hear it.

When she was done, she sat back on her heels, staring at his bandaged hand, lacking the courage to meet his eyes just yet. "Please have a physician take a look at your wound. It would not do to lose a hand to infection because of silly pride."

"Yes, my dear." His swift acquiescence both surprised her and stirred some wanton thoughts. He shifted slightly, and Amelia started as his cool fingertips grazed her cheeks. She lifted her gaze to meet his, heart fluttering at the lust she saw glowing in his eyes.

"You are beautiful," he murmured. And, with the way he stared at her, no words felt truer. His fingers curled against her reddened cheeks. "I have never met a woman like you, Amelia. You're different. You're…"

A hooked finger drifted beneath her chin, raising it ever so slightly, and she relaxed into his touch. "I'm what?" she finally breathed.

But suddenly, his hand fell in defeat and he exhaled. "Better," he finished at last. "I have nothing but bitterness and regrets in my heart."

"You're not alone in that," she murmured, which earned her a raised brow. "I have experienced my fair share of malice and… injustice in my life. It has made me who I am today."

"I quite like who you are. You are not as… breakable as I thought you were."

"Breakable? I have never been breakable," she defended lightly. "It is you who are too fearsome for your own good."

Gideon chuckled and the rich, warm sound was enough to lift the corners of her mouth in a mirthful smile. "Fearsome, am I? Tell me, what else did you think of me?"

Amelia considered the question for a moment. "I thought you were rather… extraordinary. Like a man capable of conquering any feat put before him. Yet, I could sense that there was something that set you apart from others."

"Really? And what might that be?"

"Well, you are quite easy on the eye, for one." His broad grin made her blush but she spurred on. "And there's always this feeling that you're concealing a part of yourself."

The subtle reference to his other persona did not dampen his mood the way she thought it might. Instead, Amelia was instantly relieved when his smile only widened. He downed the last of his drink and sighed. "So, she finds me handsome," he mused aloud.

Amelia giggled. "Those were not my exact words."

"No, but that is what I shall take from them, so…" he trailed off.

"So…?"

Gideon shook his head. "It is nothing," he paused, studying her intensely, "but allow me to return the favor. When we first met, I truly thought you to be the most infuriatingly fragile thing. And the most beautiful lady I had ever laid my eyes on."

"You don't mean that," she whispered, leaning back and frowning.

"I do. You are even more charming because you do not know your own beauty." Suddenly, he lurched forward, bringing his face down to meet hers. Amelia's breath hitched in her throat. "It is only a shame there has never been someone in your life to show you."

Heart hammering in her ears, she whispered, "Will you ?"