Chapter 3

Morning light crested over the distant horizon far too early the following day, and Amelia groaned as she tried in vain to shield herself from the sun by stuffing her head beneath a pillow.

Sleep had been a fitful and ineffectual experience that evening, and where once she had thought that too much of the blue ruin was the cause behind the foulest of mornings, she now stood corrected.

Interrupted rest by a soggy, infuriating duke was far worse than gin.

Flopping over onto her back, Amelia tossed the extra pillow to the side of the bed—the bed that was stiffer than it ought to be and smelled wrong. While the room was still only cast in dim light, she opened her eyes, appraising the new space and harshly criticizing it against that of her usual room.

There was, of course, no fault or grave issue to be found. This room was equally well constructed, just like all the other rooms in the estate. It simply wasn’t hers, and no matter what that husband of hers had said, the other one was.

“He’s so aggravating,” Amelia grumbled to herself. “Mutton-headed…cob! I’d sooner see him taking his leave to a caravansary than spending another night within Heartwick. I’m liable to stuff his cravat in his darkest reaches before I spend another evening in this God-forsaken guest’s room.”

Flinging off the covers, Amelia sulked over toward the room’s wash cabinet. She snatched the jug next to the marble basin, carrying it toward the door where she would ring for a servant to bring up hot water. Usually, she would allow the maid to procure the jug herself, but Amelia dreaded the notion of interacting with anyone just yet and set the thing outside her door.

As she stood at the other side of the closed door, however, Amelia’s mind wandered. It looped back to the previous evening and the sudden feel of her husband looming over her, holding her captive beneath his thick legs and impressive grip.

Something stirred low in her belly. It was unfamiliar for the most part, but Amelia could recall vague similarities to it that had occurred over the years.

His eyes were so…blue.

Amelia would never forget those eyes, not from the very first moment she saw them to the next at their wedding and even until they closed their last. There were icy and piercing, a strike from a needle-thin icicle straight through her chest.

It was all hogwash. Why on God’s great earth was she thinking about her absent husband like this? It must, of course, have to do with his sudden arrival, and Amelia squeezed her hands in fists at her side, gripping the thin fabric of her chemise.

But the thoughts of his proximity were not easily dissuaded. There had been a roiling heat that clamored through her body with each moment that he contained her. Though admitting such a thing sounded as pleasant as an abscessed tooth, Amelia could do little to deny it.

She was attracted to him.

“Your Grace,” Jane called through the door, “are you well? I’ve sent Beatrice for your water, and I should think to help you with dressing.”

Amelia sighed. She knew it would only make the woman ask more questions if she kept Jane out, and she had been with Amelia since she was first employed by her father as a governess.

Walking to the door, Amelia painted on her most convincing look of indifference and pulled it open with a gentle smile.

“Jane. Thank you. I am quite well. I do wish to wash prior to breakfast. Please see that the hip bath is brought in with enough hot water.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Jane nodded, lowering her head, which made the sunlight dance in the gray streaks of her hair. “I shall have a fire set to keep you warm.”

With her own nod, Amelia returned to the four-poster bed across the room and sat down, waiting for the water and bath to be brought in for her to clean. In truth, she hoped that by arranging for a lengthy dressing time, she would find the morning room empty when she arrived late for breakfast—no husband in sight.

She could, after all, simply insist that she was not late but arriving for breakfast at the agreed upon ten o’clock, a full hour past its usual time. As long as the servants didn’t give her away, of course.

Steps clicking against the wood floor as she descended the stairs, Amelia’s pulse was a noticeable flicker in her neck. Her nerves had not settled since she’d awoken this morning, and while dressed and put together as she should be, Amelia still felt underdressed for the occasion.

Or perhaps it was that she felt unprepared for another encounter with the Duke, and with little else to blame for it, Amelia had chosen her attire as the scapegoat.

The solemnity of the silent hall grated on Amelia’s skin, and she hurried toward the morning room, where she hoped that a meal of fresh marmalade and toast would be waiting. Tea with milk sounded the better option for Amelia this morning. However, her tiredness due to the previous evening’s lack of sleep may well warrant coffee.

I’ll be lucky if I make it through to luncheon without requiring a brief rest.

When she approached the breakfast room, the smell of eggs and meat nearly caused Amelia to walk into the doorframe. It was exceedingly unusual for such a hearty meal to be eaten this early in the day. She typically chose to consume only her regular toast with jam and butter. This had to be the Duke’s doing, and Amelia’s foul mood soured all the more as she pressed forward past the door.

“At last. The Duchess has decided to grace us with her presence for breakfast.” Richard’s voice cut through the quiet like a knife, and Amelia immediately missed the silence that had seemed so oppressive. “If I am not mistaken, breakfast was to begin at nine. Was it not?”

Amelia cast a glance at the servants who stood at the side of the room. They offered guilt-ridden expressions, silently asking her to show them mercy for their error. They were not at fault, of course. Amelia had chosen to delay the meal this morning and had been the one who forgot to pass out that crucial information to them.

With a sigh, she walked to the end of the table. One of the servants was there in a flash to pull free her chair, and Amelia sat down at the wrong head of the table, a tight smile dressing her lips.

“Apologies, Your Grace. I found myself difficult to rouse this morning and believed that a brisk bathing would do me wonders. You needn’t have waited for me.”

Richard glared from his position across the long table, his stare breaking Amelia’s only long enough for him to regard the now cold eggs that sat waiting in the center of the breakfast spread.

“It is customary to begin breakfast when all are in attendance.” Her husband’s disingenuous grin reflected her own. “And I was given plenty of this fine coffee and cream to keep Amelia at ease.”

Amelia nodded her head low, letting her stare fall to the china plate in front of her. Without responding to Richard, she regarded the servant who stood nearby, gesturing for a bit of bread and jam along with a healthy pour of tea into the delicate cup that sat to her right.

She took her tea with a small amount of cream and ground sugar from the kitchens, which she would often watch as it was chiseled from the loaf by the housekeeper. It was a fascinating little process, chipping off the smaller bits of sugar to be ground up for use in tea. As Amelia returned her attention to her husband, she had a firm conviction that the Duke had never once even considered how the sugar was added to his coffee.

“Thank goodness for that, Your Grace.” She raised her brows at him, gesturing toward the eggs. “But as you please, husband. I shall enjoy this fine bread and marmalade. You mustn’t wait further for your eggs.”

Richard’s steely expression only solidified more, his fair eyes obscured by the deep furrow of his brow. However, he relaxed back into his chair as he requested his eggs and another pour of coffee.

“That will be all. Thank you.” The Duke addressed the other servants. “Please allow me a moment with my wife alone.”

The three of them were quick to obey, exiting the morning room through the rear door that would take them to the kitchen, where they could await further instruction.

Amelia’s heart beat faster against her ribs, and a sinking sensation filled her stomach so intensely that she had to set down her slice of toast without finishing it. The sounds of footsteps leaving had only just ended when Richard obliterated all hope of having a pleasant morning meal.

“I do not wish to prolong this tension between us, so allow me to set the record straight. I arrived at Heartwick after having read the recent scandal sheet.” Richard reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. “As you can imagine, I found the words within it most upsetting. There have been direct claims against your reputation, with a number of compelling sentiments used to back it up.”

Scoffing, Amelia tossed down her napkin as she finished dabbing at her mouth. Fire laced through her veins, and she shoved back from the table, getting to her feet.

“How dare you. To believe some petty drivel in the disreputable sheets. The ton’s gossip is just that. My honor and integrity as your wife remain as indelible as they always have.”

He released a long exhale, slurping from his coffee cup. As he set it down on the table, Richard met her eyes, his cold countenance impassive and unreadable.

“This is hardly the first time that one of the scandal sheets has mentioned the Duchess of Blackford, nor the first time that they have reached me in the countryside.”

“But you now saw fit to travel from there to Heartwick. Why? What had become so pressing that you might drag yourself here to endure my presence? Or have you only now been persuaded by the latest gossip that my honor must be challenged?”

Amelia knew her tone was sharp and direct. She was also quite aware that the way she addressed her husband hardly showed him the respect he was likely accustomed to. Still, the man had so wounded her pride that she found it quite impossible to care.

Sliding up from the table, Richard produced the leather-bound account book where Amelia kept her receipts and the tally of each day’s expenses. He held it forward, using the book to point at her accusingly.

“I’ve come to see just what goes on in this estate that exists solely as the result of my family and name. There has been excessive talk of the drums you hold within the manner, and upon looking at the ledgers, I can see a great number of changes that need to be made.”

Amelia scoffed, the swell of anger within her breast now reaching calamitous proportions.

“There is nothing out of sorts with the ledgers. I have accounted for each charge down to the last pence. Even so far as to include that earned back from the offloading of excess supplies.”

Richard shook his head, opening the book and pointing to a single line that was too far and too much waved about for Amelia to read.

“You have brought on and dismissed three housemaids in the past month.” His brows were at his hairline. “There are several notations regarding the gifting of items to several families in the City, and twice now, you’ve paid for the medicinal care of a housekeeper not in our employ. And yet still you continue to hold lavish parties which further drain the accounts.”

Snatching the book from Richard’s hand, Amelia clutched it to her chest. Having the Duke nose through the items down to the last line was akin to having him abscond with a private letter meant for Charlotte or Selina. His prying eyes would search for anything that held the potential to cast her in an unfavorable light.

Items that apparently included her donations and charity to others as mistress of Heartwick Estate.

What a callous, boorish brute!

“I will aid those I am in a position to, Your Grace. Need I remind you that a mistress’s place among her community includes extending various forms of assistance to those amongst it. Furthermore, I have not as of yet come up shy for any of the expenses that cannot be done without. Our food and personal help are paid for regularly, even those I’ve had to dismiss for criminal behavior, and this very room is never without warmth, butter, or sugar.”

Refusing to break his gaze with her, Richard stepped forward. As he did, the floorboard beneath his foot squeaked terribly, but he paid it no mind. Her husband was entirely set on pressing into her proximity and coming down on her with his monied air of intimidation.

“This is not the way I will have this estate run. Your fairer disposition is not suited to matters of finance, and I will not have an over-altruistic heart bring this family to ruin.”

Amelia’s palm tingled as she bit back the urge to slap Richard across the face. Her blood boiled, the stays beneath her dress too constriction for the huffing of her breath. Even more, the wrath that swelled in her tongue burned like venom, every effort being used to hold back words of such hostility that her husband might have collapsed to the floor.

“All this,” Richard gestured once more with the ledger, “it has brought a most curious thought into my mind. I dare say that I must wonder if it has been some odd effort to gain my attention. With so few a way to contact me, are these drums and goings on how you sought to force my return?”

Grinding down on her molars, Amelia dropped her stare to the floor before meeting the Duke’s stare again, her blistering with fury.

“I assure you, Your Grace. I would never wish to interrupt your reliable leisure at Blackford, particularly over simple matters that have always been the business of the mistress. While residing alone in Heartwick was not the assumed arrangement when first we wed, I do so now with no great pain at all. I dare say that the manor is better fit than ever it was before.”

In a harsh rush forward, Richard closed the distance between them, towering over her as Amelia stood her ground. The furious crease in Richard’s brows betrayed his ire, and she knew he was scarcely able to keep himself from erupting as if some overblown volcano.

“I will warn you, wife. You should not be addressing your husband in such a manner. I will not hear it again.”

The heat billowing off Richard’s body struck Amelia as sure as any attack. He was inches from her, his attention so wholly focused on her that he’d dropped the accounts to the floor as he approached her. Her pulse drummed up faster and faster, the constriction of her gown growing more and more intolerable.

Tensity charged the air between them, and Amelia found herself losing her words as Richard’s devastating good looks claimed her thoughts. His crystalline blue eyes were full of such raw emotion, his own chest rising and falling in quick succession as he breathed.

What is happening? What is this sorcery between us?

Without words, they mirrored each other’s actions by leaning into the separation between them. Richard’s hand found her arm just above the elbow, strong fingers squeezing enough to make Amelia’s body tremble. The warmth of his skin permeated the thin sleeve of her dress, and impossibly, Amelia didn’t remove him at once.

Something in his gaze claimed hold of Amelia, and Richard dropped his chin to look down at her as he hovered so near to her flushed skin. When he made to whisper something, Amelia instinctively turned her head to the side, and the ghost of Richard’s lips brushed over her ear.

“Should you think to be so rebellious again, Amelia, I will find no trouble in teaching you to heed the words of your husband. In whatever fashion is necessary.”

Her mind was at war, indecent thoughts tumbling together with the still-flaring flickers of anger. She could not let herself be so swayed like this. It was clear Richard sought to adle her mind with meaningless flirtations.

Stepping to the side, Amelia turned back to him as her arm snagged in his grip.

“I will not submit to you, Richard.”

“So you say now.”

Amelia opened her mouth to retort once more, but Richard was already turning on his heel and heading for the door. She was left with nothing but the lingering warmth of his hand on her arm as the Duke marched out of the morning room without more than a cup of coffee in his system.

She held her stare on the doorway long after Richard had left, eyeing it with such ferocity that her husband could surely feel the dagger edge of her gaze some yards away.

“You will not trample over the life I’ve built here, husband .” Amelia’s hands wound up into tight fists. “I’ll have you out of Heartwick if it’s the last thing I do.”