Chapter 1

Chapter One

“ D id you read this?” Her best friend Lady Charlotte’s voice echoed through the drawing room a bit too loudly, and the Duchess of Blackford winced.

Amelia’s—as she much preferred to be called—head ached overmuch, and she reached for her tea with tired fingers. The Season had only just begun, and Amelia already found herself needing to recuperate from an evening that stretched on too long—and a cup that flowed too much with the drink.

It wasn’t unheard of for her to be troubled in the morning during breakfast. Still, Amelia felt a twinge of guilt for being this worse for wear after only her third rout of the Season. Thank God above for the cool spring air that wafted in through the cracked window—and the lack of her husband’s presence——or she would most certainly have overheated even in her thin morning dress.

“Dear,” Selina, the Dowager Duchess of Soulden, chimed in, “you look so pale. Shall I send the maid for more tea?”

Amelia nodded gently at her before switching her gaze up toward Charlotte who hurried into the room clutching papers, Magnus following soon after her.

As Selina requested additional refreshments from a maid, Ethel perked up at Charlotte’s entrance, her nose for anything on dit picking up the scent of potent gossip from even just Charlotte’s few words.

“Here we go,” Isaac drawled from his seat across from us, and I smirked lightly at the roll of his eyes.

Unlike Ethel, daughter of the Viscount Mayfield, Isaac cared very little about whatever was reported in the papers about the latest pairings and events, filling his social calendar with only the gatherings and drums Amelia hosted there at Heartwick.

One of her oldest friends, the Earl of Ellingham, or Isaac as she always called him, was a very intelligent man and, seemingly as a result, had little time for “such drivel.”

“You must have a look,” Charlotte cut in, and Amelia took the offered papers while slowly rubbing her aching temples.

As she tried to focus on the words through the haze that still plagued her vision, Amelia noticed the scowl on Charlotte’s older brother Magnus’s face. He took up a spot near Isaac in one of the tufted, armless chairs, trying to busy himself with staring at the low flames casting gentle flickers of light on the caryatid figurines of the fireplace surround.

“Honestly, Sister,” Magnus whispered almost beneath his breath, “can you not give the woman a peaceful morning?”

“It’s quite all right, Magnus.” Amelia flicked the papers into a firmer stance, gripping the sheets tightly as she pulled herself up straighter. “Let’s see what all this about then, shall we?”

As she regarded what Charlotte had been so up in arms about, Amelia first realized that she did not hold a newspaper as she’d assumed. Instead, Charlotte had given her the scandal sheet, and her stomach clamped down, sending a wave of nausea through her.

“Halfway down the page, Amelia.” Charlotte turned to her brother. “And a true friend would show her the article at once, Magnus. Amelia must know about it.”

Amelia’s eyes scanned through the type that had been clustered onto the page haphazardly. Scandal sheets were not well-crafted presentations like the newspaper might be. Still, as Charlotte pointed out, about halfway down the page, Amelia found the source of all this uproar.

And her morning came to a screeching halt when she did.

Unable to keep herself from reading the words aloud, Amelia mumbled out the treacherous headline for all to hear.

“The Duchess of Blackford, seen foxed and in the arms of the Viscount St. Vincent.” The words finished, and Amelia’s lips spread wide in a disbelieving grin. “What on earth? They can’t possibly be serious.”

“Amelia, what else does it say? Are they questioning your status?” Selina’s brow furrowed as she leaned in over Amelia’s shoulder.

Rolling her eyes, Amelia straightened out the sheet once more and held it aloft. “I should hardly like to dignify the author by reading such a ridiculous piece of drivel, but very well.”

She found the piece once more with her tired stare, and Amelia put on a show of reading the ludicrous claims against her in a voice befitting the Banbury tale.

“This past evening, only just weeks after the start of the Season, the Duchess of Blackford hosted yet another of her drums; Heartwick Estate turned into little more than a gentleman’s club. Evidently in possession of too much of the blue ruin, the Duchess was entwined with the Viscount far more than any might claim to be with even a caper merchant.

“Has the Viscount been reduced to nothing more than a cicisbeo thanks to the Duchess’s plentiful libations, or is our Duchess little more than a doxy who has come up dished up and in dun territory and looking to fulfill the position of Duke as the proper man of that claim has never set foot in Heartwick since their arrangement day?

“The Duchess clearly attempts to gull both the Viscount and the Duke of Blackford. A hoyden to be sure, the Viscount could very well be the ladybird of our here Duchess or at the least to be seen as one in a vain ploy to hasten the return of her leg-shackled Duke.”

Amelia burst out laughing, the utter absurdity of the words printed causing her to nearly burst the seams of her undress.

“Amelia,” Charlotte announced as Isaac snatched the scandal sheet out of her hand, “this is hardly a laughing matter. This is a serious claim against your fidelity. It could positively destroy your reputation.”

Wiping under her eyes to rid herself of the tears, Amelia looked between Isaac as he read over the article for himself and Charlotte, who narrowed her eyes so firmly toward her that Amelia was forced to swallow down the last dregs of giddiness that crept up the back of her throat.

While she understood Charlotte’s concern, the Duke of Blackford—her husband by paper alone—had been gone for some five years. Rumors had surfaced as they always had, and none of them had managed to bring the Duke home from the country.

He made it abundantly clear that he had no intention of genuinely acting as my husband. I should be surprised if he managed to be upset about any number of activities I might do.

“Well, give it here then. I want to see just what else this sheet says about our dear Amelia.” Selina reached for the papers from Isaac as he frowned harder and harder with each moment.

“Excuse me, Selina,” Isaac replied, standing up from his chair and setting the sheet down on the cushion like he hadn’t so much as heard a word of what she’d said.

As the paper plopped down, Ethel moved to snatch it up just as Selina did, and the two began squabbling about who would have the honor of reading the article next. Amelia didn’t care to pay them much attention, they were often at each other’s throats as such, and as she shook her head, Isaac cleared his throat as he stood over her.

“May I sit, Amelia?”

She nodded, scooting down the compact sofa now that Selina was entangled with Ethel like a pair of dogs fighting over a lamb shank.

“Of course, Isaac.”

He joined her on the settee, his brow down so thoroughly over his hazel eyes that she could scarcely see them. Isaac’s jaw was set firmly, and he gripped the brim of his beaver so much that the stark curves of his knuckles were set a pale white color.

“My sincerest apologies, Amelia. I should have kept you safe from a situation that would set the sheets ablaze with scandal.”

She shook her head, offering Isaac a gentle smile. “You are under no contract to do so, Isaac. I appreciate your friendship fiercely but you hold yourself to too high a standard. It was a simple party, and people talk. It is, in fact, what I believe they do best, particularly in the ton.”

“And you’ve had their attention since the drum you put on a few months ago, Amelia. They’ve all been a buzz about the latest rumblings coming from Heartwick.” Charlotte leaned forward in her chair, gently holding Amelia’s hand, her mitts smooth and warm against her skin. “It may be that someone has you in their sights, looking to put up any number of set-downs about you.”

“Ethel!” Selina cried. “You will allow me to peruse the sheet as necessary. The new heir and Duke of Soulden has as yet come to speak with me, and if there is mention of him in the scandal sheets, I will see it.”

Rolling her eyes, Ethel handed the sheet to Selina. “I merely wished to glance over the piece about Amelia. Honestly, if you genuinely think I would be so concerned with the content of this ridiculous scandal sheet, you do not know me. And the Duke has not yet spoken to you because we’ve yet to come across him when you are not foxed.”

“Ugh!” Selina exclaimed, snatching the scandal sheet and walking off to the corner of the room where she might read over the thing without interruption.

Magnus cleared his throat, standing with a gentle bob of his head and following after Selina to ease her injured pride. The women offered him a nod as he passed by, but it was only Amelia who noticed the flick of Magnus’s stare toward Ethel. Malice laced through his dark eyes, and Amelia silently noted yet again how he seemed to be consistently put off by Ethel, even doing so much as to keep Charlotte seated away from her.

Clamoring chatter echoed through the room as more talk spun about the article and what Amelia was supposed to do about it. At once, the headache of that morning became the least of Amelia’s concerns. However, she still found it difficult to accept that such a ridiculous claim against her would be believed by anyone.

Ethel mirrored that conviction, stating that no one with so much as a single portion of thought left in their head would believe such terrible things about Amelia. Ethel would always be the one to suggest that people did not, however have much in the way of smarts to begin with. She was a bluestocking through and through, and Amelia often wondered if that was what turned Magnus so off from her company.

Consistently seen with her nose in a book or the like, Ethel was undoubtedly one for acquiring knowledge and information about the world at large—as much so as any man. And while Amelia never particularly shied away from such pursuits, she couldn’t compete with Ethel’s natural tenacity.

“A few less than noteworthy drums henceforth, and the ton will have little to ruminate over. It shall all pass with the shedding of leaves in the fall.”

“Leave it to Ethel to be both poetic and dismissive of a threat to a dear friend’s reputation,” Charlotte replied.

Amelia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she finished her latest cup of tea.

“That’s quite enough. Both of you.” Her friends met Amelia’s exhausted expression with ones of concern. “Allow me to reassure you that this will all die down. The ton is fickle. All previous incidents of the past have been forgotten as soon as something new occurred to draw their attention. This will be no different.”

A beat of silence passed through the room, and the assembled had difficulty making eye contact with Amelia as she looked around the somewhat crowded space. Isaac was the first to draw her attention, shifting toward her on the settee with only his beaver between them to give the two separation.

“Let us hope, Amelia. Though,” he cocked his head to the side, offering Amelia a look of such concern when he met her eyes again, “I don’t believe I would be the one person here to express concern that this latest scandal has touched on a rather…novel notion.”

“Which would be?” she asked.

“Your husband,” Charlotte answered for him. “This is the first time the sheets have put forth the claim that you would be doing these things to garner a reaction from your rather absent spouse. There couldn’t be any truth to those claims, could there?”

Amelia’s jaw dropped open at that, and the pound behind her eyes picked up so much so that she needed to stand from the small sofa and search out fresher air by ambling through the drawing room.

“I am not looking for my husband to do anything, Charlotte. He is of a mind of his own, and from what I understand quite happy in his residing in the countryside. I receive word from Blackford Estate on the regular that he is well, and I’ve no need for any concern.”

Selina stepped forward from the corner where she had been standing with Magnus. As she eyed Amelia, she smoothed her hands down the quilling ribbon at the edge of her sleeve. Always one for fashion, Selina’s cambric frock was conveniently without its tucker this morning, quite the fast trick for such an informal occasion.

“And you are certain that your husband could not be moved to pay Heartwick a visit?”

Amelia laughed lightly, the sound not fully embracing her.

“I am most confident that there is nothing in my power that could encourage the return of the Duke. And I am quite satisfied with that appraisal. I am more than at ease on my own. The outings and drums attended with my dear friends,” she raked her gaze across all of them, “is by far my preferred way to spend the Season or any other day.”

Charlotte met Amelia where the Duchess stood near the fireplace and offered a comforting hand on Amelia’s.

“You will never be without your friends, Amelia. You are as dear to me as any sister, which is quite fortunate since I was blessed only with a Corinthian older brother.”

Magnus sighed, shaking his head at her. “I will have none of your Spanish coin, Charlotte.”

“I would never,” she exclaimed playfully before returning her attention to Amelia. “But perhaps it is wise to send the invitations for your next drum after a time has passed. Let their ire calm some.”

“Of course, Charlotte,” Amelia agreed. “I am agreeable to enjoying a much-earned interlude between events on my social calendar. Perhaps we can take a ride into to the shops and look at the latest arrivals?”

Charlotte perked up, along with Selina and even Ethel. As her friends supported Amelia’s suggestion, Ethel chiefly excited over the prospect of finding a new work by a writer whom she’d been following most ardently, the Duchess had difficulty keeping her mind pinned to the conversation.

It drifted back, conjuring up images of her absent spouse, and provided increasingly irritating hypotheses of what the Duke might be doing at that very moment. She recalled his words on the day of their wedding.

I have no intention of siring any heirs or sharing your bed. I have little interest or concern for what duty may say about those martial requirements, and I suggest that you, too, disregard the matter and put it far from your mind.

And what he might think if the scandal sheets made their way into his possession.