by Aston, Alexa
And then she awoke again to her living hell.
Suddenly, her skin prickled. She’d become attuned to her quiet surroundings and sensed something different in the darkness that surrounded her. Sitting up, she used the last of her energy to swing her legs from the bed and stand, pride driving her to her feet. She gripped the bedpost for support.
The sound of the lock being turned caused her breath to catch in her throat.
Was she finally going to be free?
Of course, she would never be free from Trumbull. She understood after three days of contemplation that she’d made her bed and must lie in it. If it were her husband coming to release her, she would not give him the satisfaction of listening to her beg. She would do whatever it took to be released from this prison and maintain her dignity along the way. She watched as the door swung open and a figure holding a candle appeared in the dark.
“Good evening, Trumbull. Or is it morning soon? It’s hard to tell,” she said casually as the light moved toward her.
He held up the candle and studied her. “Hmm. You look a little worse for the wear.”
Amelia shrugged. “I suppose that would be the case when one doesn’t eat or drink for three days, much less bathe and change clothes.”
The flame caused shadows to flicker across his face but she thought she saw admiration in his eyes and raised her chin a notch.
“And here I thought you’d fall at my feet and plead for mercy.”
“Mercy implies compassionate treatment, Trumbull. I doubt you have that in you, especially toward me. Mercy also implies that I’ve done something wrong and seek forgiveness, which I haven’t and I won’t.”
She knew she should hold her tongue but found it impossible.
“You are a little spitfire, Amelia. I thought three days would have broken you.”
“I’m merely bent, not broken, Husband.” She paused. “Did you wish to speak to me about something?”
He pursed his lips and thought a moment. “Have you reconsidered?”
“You mean will I keep your secrets from the ton and our families? I will—because you give me no choice. I don’t wish to spend my days locked away from society. Starvation has taught me that much.”
Trumbull cocked his head and studied her. “Then you agree to be an adoring wife in public and allow each of us to go our separate ways in private? You give me your word that you will never speak of what truly lies between us—and whom we lie with?”
Amelia tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. “I do.”
She would have to live with herself for making this deal with the devil.
Chapter Seven
Derek had spent a miserable week in London. Thea had refused to speak with him. He’d tried to make her understand that Amelia had married an unsavory character, even if the man was a marquess, and that, as Thea’s guardian, he couldn’t have her seen in Trumbull’s company. As it was, he was compromising by agreeing to allow Amelia to call at the de Wolfe townhouse or even let the two women go about London once the plaster came off Thea’s leg.
His sister wouldn’t hear anything against her friend and had shut Derek out, ignoring him at meals. He’d left the townhome each day, heading to box out his rage at Gentleman Jack’s or making his way to White’s to wile the day away. At night, he made sure he attended every event he’d been invited to, though he had no taste for it. Now that Diana was married and no longer needed his escort, Derek was ready to pack up and head home to Esterley Castle. He’d broached the subject again at breakfast this morning, telling Thea that it might be time to return to Northumberland. She’d only glared at him and returned to painting her toast with marmalade.
He decided he wouldn’t have them leave until Amelia returned. It would only be fair to Thea to see her friend again before they left London. Or they could stay until Thea’s cast was removed and she saw a bit of the city, as was originally planned. But no longer than that. He was eager to return to his estate and continue the work he’d begun there once he inherited it and the title.
At least, that’s what he told himself. If he were in a truthful mood, he wanted to wait and see Amelia. Talk to her. Assure himself that she was fine. That she was happy in her marriage to Trumbull. That the feelings for her which lingered were foolish. Derek would see that she’d begun her new, married life and it would dispel any notion he’d ever had about her. And him. Together.
He knew she’d returned to town this afternoon for she’d sent Thea a message, asking if she could call tomorrow. Derek only knew this from the butler telling him. As he readied himself for this evening’s ball, he determined to clear the air with his sister before he left, idly wondering if he wanted to do so in order that she not speak ill of him with Amelia tomorrow.
His valet finished tying Derek’s cravat and wished his master a good evening, leaving the room. He knew Thea would be in her room by now. Her habit had been for a footman to carry her back upstairs after dinner each evening. With so many stairs, it would have taken her a good hour or more to go up them on her crutches.
Derek knocked at her chamber door and heard her bid him to enter. He did and spotted her stretched out on a chaise lounge, a book in her lap. Her eyes narrowed as he approached.
“It’s ridiculous that we haven’t spoken in a week,” he began, not sounding contrite at all. Softening his tone, he added, “I’m sorry for angering you.”
“You hurt me, Derek. Amelia is my best friend. Forbidding me from seeing her and Trumbull is wrong.”
He knelt beside her and took her hand. “I only wish to keep you from Trumbull and the company he keeps, Thea. I have no qualms with you seeing Amelia.”
She sighed. “Is Trumbull really that awful, Derek?”
Nodding, he said, “He’s a scoundrel of the worst kind. His antics alone could keep the ton’s gossip mill grinding for the entire Season and beyond.”
Thea frowned. “Then why did Amelia marry him? He doesn’t sound like anyone she would be interested in. She hadn’t even kissed him before they wed and I thought that odd. After seeing Diana’s behavior with Oliver, I expected something much different.”
“Lady Amelia never kissed Trumbull?” he asked, hardly believing his ears.
“Yes. Do you think that means he’s trying to be a better man? That he respects her? When she told Trumbull she’d never been kissed, he said he would only do so at the altar.”
His insides tightened. Amelia had never been kissed before. How he wished he’d been the one to be her first.
And last . . .
He swallowed his regrets and said, “I suppose he might have turned over a new leaf. We’ll have to see. In the meantime, you aren’t to accept any invitations that involve him. You have your own future in society to consider. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Derek,” Thea said, resignation in her voice.
He kissed her brow. “I know you’ll see Lady Amelia tomorrow. I hope that will cheer you up.”
“Lady Trumbull now. Of course, she’ll always be Amelia to me. I thought you were to also call her the same, Derek. She asked you to do so.”
“We’ll see. Marriage may have changed things.” He grinned. “We wouldn’t want Trumbull jealous of me, would we?”
His sister laughed. “You should call her Amelia at tonight’s ball and see how he reacts. She wrote that she’s attending it.”
Derek rose. “Then I will make a point to seek her out and address her in that manner.”
“Good.”
He left and ventured downstairs, finding his carriage awaited him. Excitement filled him at the prospect of seeing Amelia again, married or not. He shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t want her as much as he did. He should avoid her after a brief greeting and yet, somehow, he knew he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. She would draw him like a moth unwillingly flies into the tempting flame. His feelings for her would more than likely destroy him. As it was, Derek could no longer entertain the idea of marriage with anyone else. Amelia Ward had r
uined all other women for him.
As he settled back against the cushion, he decided to put her out of his mind and concentrate on bringing out Esterley’s full potential once he returned to the north. He had new farming and breeding techniques he wanted to try. Repairs needed to be made to tenant’s cottages, as well as updating parts of the castle. By focusing on his land and estate, he would be too busy to think of the Marchioness of Trumbull.
But while he remained in London this brief time, he would see her. Dance with her. Take tea with her tomorrow when she came to call. He’d pay the price later, wallowing in misery, but it would be worth it for the little bit of heaven on earth that she would bring to his existence.
The carriage came to a stop and Derek alighted with a wave to his coachman. He walked two blocks and joined the crush of guests entering for the evening’s activities, going through the receiving line and then greeting an old schoolmate. His eyes searched the ballroom and didn’t spot Amelia. Trumbull had never been an early bird at ton events. Marriage had unlikely changed that pattern. Derek found a group of acquaintances and passed the time talking with them.
“Isn’t that Trumbull’s new wife?” one of them said.
He casually glanced over his shoulder and saw Amelia in the receiving line.
“Yes,” said another. “She’s a pretty little thing. Very sweet and down-to-earth. I wonder what she saw in a rogue like Trumbull.”
“Maybe he brings out her wild side,” someone suggested.
“Lady Amelia is not like that,” Derek said brusquely. “I know her quite well. She is my sister-in-law.”
“That’s right. Lady Diana wed Merrifield not long ago. Hmm . . . two weddings in the family in a short time. Might you be next, Reston?”
He smiled. “Not a chance. I plan to enjoy my twenties. My thirties can be when I settle down. Excuse me, gentlemen.”
He was drawn like a magnet toward Amelia. He saw her smile at her husband, who kissed her cheek and strolled away. A footman handed her a programme, which she slipped on her wrist. Before she could move, he was before her.
She looked lovely in a pale blue satin gown that made her vivid blue eyes stand out like glittering sapphires. Her thick, blond hair was arranged artfully in a way he hadn’t seen her wear it before.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, clearly startled by his presence, but she recovered quickly. “Good evening, Lord Reston.”
“I thought, as your brother-in-law, I’d earned the name Derek. You look very beautiful tonight, Amelia, though a trifle thin.”
Her cheeks flushed pink and she licked her lips nervously. “I suppose being away from London and all of the rich food may have caused a little weight to drop off.”
“May I ask for a dance tonight?” he asked. “A waltz if they’re playing one.”
The color deepened and her cheeks now flamed. “No one has requested any dances from me in advance.”
“Then allow me.”
He took her card and located the waltz. It was the supper dance. Frowning, he said, “I only see one waltz tonight.”
“Take it,” she urged.
“I’m not sure if I should. It leads into supper. Your new husband might want you all to himself.”
As she worried her bottom lip, Derek felt a rush of desire flood him.
“Trumbull won’t mind. I doubt we’ll even dance tonight. He assures me married couples rarely spend time together at ton events.”
Derek’s gaze held hers. “If you were my wife, I would spend all of my time with you.”
Tears misted her eyes and she blinked them away. Anger replaced them.
“You stupid man,” she said, her voice so low he thought he’d misheard her. Then she smiled brightly. “I will see you for the waltz later this evening.”
He bowed, uncertain what had just occurred between them. Someone called her name and Amelia turned. Derek moved away. He had no intention of dancing with another woman tonight. His lone dance would be with the Marchioness of Trumbull.
Amelia smiled, telling everyone who asked that marriage was wonderful and Trumbull waited upon her hand and foot. At one point, she saw her husband at the punch bowl, looking her way. She smiled and wiggled her fingers at him. He returned her smile and inclined his head before making his way to her.
Pulling her aside, he said, “You’re doing well, pet. I’ve already had three gentlemen seek me out and tell me how you’re singing my praises. They all looked at me as if I’d lost my devil’s horns and tail.”
She continued to smile at him. “I’m only doing what you asked. So you won’t think to punish me again.”
Amelia glanced at Lady Rothmore, who eyed them with interest. The baroness had been one of the guests at Trumbull Hall. Not one person had questioned where Amelia had been for the three days they had caroused without her. Instead, the guests merely smiled as she joined them at meals. The rest of the time, she’d avoided their company. She’d gone for long walks. Read in her parlor. Visited the conservatory. She had no interest in spending any time with her husband’s set of immoral friends.
“I see Lady Rothmore gazing in our direction,” she noted. “Do you sleep with Lord Rothmore?” Her tone was civil and her voice lowered.
Trumbull’s brows arched and then relaxed. “As a matter of fact, I’ve dallied with both Rothmores. She’s much more adventurous in bed than her husband, but his sleek physique is quite pleasing to the eye. And hands.”
She nodded, tamping down her disgust. “So you do bed women.”
“Of course. I prefer men but some women interest me.”
“Just not me.”
Trumbull chuckled. “Not in that way, pet. You’ll have to find your own partners.”
The music struck up and Amelia saw her next partner hurrying toward her. When he arrived, her husband said, “Would you mind terribly if I claim my bride for this dance? Her programme was already filled and I find I must have a dance with her this evening.”
“Of course, my lord.”
He led her onto the floor.
“Why did you do that?” she asked.
“Because I could. Besides, I think it looks better if we’re seen dancing together. Durham is here tonight. In the card room. Even if he doesn’t witness our dance, he’s certain to hear about it.”
Amelia remembered her promise not to reveal to the duke that her marriage was a sham.
“Smile, darling. You’re supposed to be deliriously happy with me.”
She smiled brightly. “I think I could go on the stage with my performance tonight.”
He looked at her indulgently. “Just remember, if you find someone you wish to see tonight, you’re to be careful with the plans you make. I don’t want you discovered in the gardens embracing someone other than your husband.”
“I will always be the picture of discretion in public, Trumbull,” Amelia guaranteed.
The music died away and he returned her to the spot he’d found her. Derek joined them.
“Good evening, Lord Trumbull. Amelia.”
Her husband frowned. “That’s Lady Trumbull to you, Reston.”
“Oh, no,” Amelia said smoothly. “Derek is my brother-in-law. Our families decided to call each other by our first names after Oliver and Diana wed. I am Amelia and he’s Derek. In fact, I believe this is our dance, isn’t it?”
Derek offered her his arm, which she took. “Good seeing you, Trumbull. Come, Amelia.”
Leading her to the dance floor, he took her right hand in his and brought his arm about her as the music started up. She refused to look and see if Trumbull stayed to watch them. Instead, Amelia gave herself over to the music and allowed Derek to sweep her across the floor, almost growing drunk on the spice of his cologne.
“And how is marriage treating you?” he asked.
“I’d rather dance than talk, Derek,” she replied, wanting to savor being in the arms of the man she was destined to always want.
Unless she could convince Derek de Wolfe to become her firs
t lover.
Chapter Eight
Derek approached his rented townhouse, knowing that it was almost teatime.
And that Amelia would be there.
She’d confirmed she was taking tea with Thea during supper last night. They had sat with Diana and Oliver and the Earl and Countess of Mayfield. Diana had become friends with the countess, the owner of Evie’s Bookstore. Derek had shopped there himself twice, finding a new book for Finn and Mena a few days ago while the twins were away at Merrimore with their parents. It still seemed a bit odd to think of Merrifield as their father and yet Derek could already see how much Finn and Mena loved the earl. In return, the earl seemed as loving to them as their mother. Derek couldn’t be happier for his sister.
It did surprise him when Amelia had steered him away from the table at which her new husband already sat. As usual, he was with his cronies; a loud, raucous group. She did wave to him, and Trumbull blew her a kiss, but she seemed glad to be away from their company.
As for Derek, he had enjoyed every minute in her presence. Dancing. Conversing. He knew he should watch himself and his behavior around her. He didn’t want to give Trumbull any reason to come over and speak to them. Not only would it embarrass Amelia but Derek didn’t know if he could keep himself from smashing his fist into Trumbull’s nose, merely for existing.
Confusion filled him. He hadn’t known a thing about love and doubted it existed—and now he realized it did—but it was too late. Amelia had wed another man and Derek would have to live with brief encounters with her, though he knew those would never be enough. Perhaps he should avoid her altogether. He’d gone to sleep last night with the light floral fragrance of her perfume teasing his nose. He’d dreamed of Amelia, dreams that could never be voiced because of what he did to her in them. All day, he’d constantly found himself thinking of her. No good could come of this. She had a husband. He could never be anything more to her than a friend.