‘He did not make my mother miserable!’ His heated whisper earned him a few curious stares from those hovering closest to where they sat, so he forced himself to calm down. Now was definitely not the time or the place for a volcanic eruption of all the warring, turbulent jumble of emotions that had been troubling him of late.
Uncle George set his jaw stubbornly. ‘Of course he did. All he cared about was his own blasted political ambitions. He was always too busy for anything else. Why do you think that it was me who taught you to ride and to shoot? I stepped into the breach when he abandoned you to follow his own path—a path, I hasten to add, that he has forced you down as well. I hate the way he controls your life from the grave. Do you remember your father’s presence here for the duration of all of those summers and Christmases? Don’t you ever wonder why you are an only child, Bennett? Your self-important father was far too interested in his own position in the government that he neglected your mother for the entirety of their marriage.’
Mortally offended, Bennett stood and promptly took himself to another corner of the room without another word. If he stayed next to his uncle, he would only disgrace himself in public. As soon as the moment was right, he would speak to his mother in private so that he could satisfy himself that his uncle was lying. Except, now that he came to think upon it, there might well be some weight to Uncle George’s impassioned assertions.
His father had rarely come to Aveley Castle. Nor had he taught him how to ride or shoot or swim. He had certainly never slid down a banister with his father—that would have given the man an apoplexy of epic proportions—or capsized a boat or waltzed around the ballroom with him because his big feet had such trouble with the steps. Had there ever been a momentous occasion in his life when his uncle George had not been present? His father, certainly, had missed a great deal, but Uncle George had been by his and his mother’s side for the lot.
Another uncomfortable thought suddenly occurred to him as he watched his uncle march across the room to his mother. He saw her put her arm affectionately on his and smile in understanding as the old man undoubtedly vented his frustration about Bennett. Uncle George had always been there for her too. Every step of the way. In all but name, they were like a married couple who adored each other. Surely he had not been so preoccupied with his own career not to have seen something like that? They all lived under the same roof after all... Damn it all to hell, they all lived under the same roof. Like a family! Like his blasted ceiling mural, could he have been so determined to see things one way, when in fact there was an altogether different picture when viewed from another perspective? Was this yet another thing he had got entirely wrong?
Bennett wandered to the table and accepted another cup of tea from a servant and tried to get a better view of his mother and his uncle to see if his ridiculous, implausible new suspicion actually carried any weight. Was his uncle right? Was his father controlling him from the grave?
He had no time to ponder that. Lady Cecily was already edging towards him with a purposeful gleam in her eye, closely followed by both her mother and her father. A quick glance at the mantel clock told him that it was only just past noon and he had told Lovett to extricate him from his mother’s tea party at two. Now he was stuck here for another couple of hours, in a foul temper and more confused than he had ever been in his life about almost everything.
‘Your Grace! How wonderful it was to receive your invitation.’ Lady Cecily was practically simpering and batting her eyelashes in a way that he could only assume she thought was beguiling. As if he wanted an obedient marionette who simply batted her eyelashes at him! Or parroted his book or followed every one of its edicts! She slid her arm through his and offered him a demure and adoring smile. Realising that he was completely doomed with no hope of redemption, Bennett was left with little choice other than to paste a polite smile on his face and suffer her unwanted attentions manfully.
Amelia sat with Lady Worsted and pretended that she was not boiling with jealousy at the sight of the Duke chatting happily with Lady Cecily as though he did not have a care in the world. After all that had been said yesterday evening, she could not help selfishly feeling put out by his rapid return to normal. He might have had the decency to take a little more time in getting over her. The conniving Cecily was gripping onto Ben’s arm as if he were a trophy and casting gloating glances at her rivals—including Amelia.
Sir George wandered over looking peeved and promptly folded his arms across his chest the moment he sat down next to them. ‘I really have no idea what possessed Octavia to invite so many people when none of us are in the mood to have them here. Did she tell you what she had in mind?’
Lady Worsted shook her head mournfully. ‘All I knew about were the Potentials. I believe it was her intention to help Bennett to choose one of them in a less formal setting. Surely there cannot be any more carriages? We must be up to twenty guests already.’
The three of them all turned to watch the Dowager greeting another couple at the door and Sir George rolled his eyes. ‘And they keep on coming! At this rate, we will soon run out of chairs.’
The Dowager sailed towards them, smiling like the perfect hostess with the latest arrivals in tow. ‘Augusta, George—you remember the Sandfords, don’t you? I shall leave them in your capable hands while I go to greet the Viscount and Viscountess of Bray. Lovett has just informed me that their carriage is arriving.’
Amelia froze and then experienced a moment of sheer, unadulterated panic. One look told her Lady Worsted had also just realised that a catastrophe of huge proportions was pending.
‘Did you know about this?’ Amelia’s throat began to tighten as she gripped Lady Worsted’s hand in panic.
‘Of course I didn’t!’
Her employer was on the cusp of flapping, which would be no use to either of them, so Amelia stood sharply and tried not to shout. ‘I cannot be seen here!’ If she was fast, she could escape and avoid them. She would have to spend the entire afternoon locked inside her bedchamber, but at least she would avoid causing a scandal.
Amelia stumbled blindly to the door and in her haste to flee she collided with a footman carrying a loaded tray. Cups and cutlery clattered noisily to the floor, drawing everyone’s attention. ‘I am so sorry!’ she said to the footman as she simultaneously picked up her skirts and hurried towards the door to freedom.
‘Amelia—wait!’
Bennett’s voice called from behind her, but still she did not stop. It was better to be horrifically rude to a duke in front of a room full of guests than to publicly embarrass him with the scandal that was poised to happen. Perhaps later she would explain. If she absolutely had to. Or she could just run towards the woodland and keep on running. That might be preferable.
‘Wait!’ His voice was insistent as he stayed her arm and turned her towards him, his cobalt eyes filled with concern. ‘What has happened?’
Frustrated, angry tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. She knew that he deserved the truth, but there was no time, so she lied. ‘I am not feeling very well. I need to go and lie down.’
It was obvious that he did not believe her because he refused to relinquish his hold on her arm. ‘Something has upset you. Please tell me what is wrong.’
‘Let me go, Ben, I beg you. I will explain everything later, but please let me go.’ The bothersome tears would not be held back any longer and began to trickle down her cheeks. If that was not mortifying enough, the people nearest the door were watching them with barely disguised interest, which meant she had already caused a scene, despite her father’s imminent arrival.
Ignoring the questioning stares, his hand slid down her arm and clasped her hand. With his other hand, he used his thumb to gently wipe the tears from her cheek tenderly. ‘Not until I know what is wrong. I hate seeing you like this.’
His sympathy was almost her u
ndoing except, behind those gathered at the door, Amelia could already see the Dowager looking for her son. Next to her was Viscount Venomous, smiling nauseatingly at his hostess and no doubt congratulating himself on gaining an invitation to visit such a powerful duke.
As the crowd parted to allow them to pass, Amelia snatched her hand away and considered her options. The grand, echoing hallway offered few hiding places. The odd ancient suit of armour or the impressive waist-high Grecian urns would not suffice for long. Her inadvertent charade was about to unravel like knitting and she had no earthly idea how to stop it. In desperation, she camouflaged herself behind the biggest thing in the room.
Bennett.
‘Oh, there you are, Bennett!’ His mother was striding purposefully towards him, completely oblivious to the fact that Amelia was upset and huddled behind him. Under the circumstances, he was glad that she was hidden. At least it would give her a few moments to compose herself before she had to make a reappearance. He already knew enough about her to understand that she would hate to be seen in such an exposed and weakened state by anyone. ‘I believe that you must know Viscount Bray. He is one of your greatest supporters in the House.’
Reluctantly, Bennett held out his hand to shake the other man’s, doing his best to maintain Amelia’s privacy. He had met Bray before and had never particularly warmed to the man. ‘Yes, of course. Bray, how are you?’
‘Honoured to be favoured with an invitation, Your Grace. May I present my wife?’
Bennett had to turn slightly to take the lady’s proffered hand and watched his mother’s eyes dart curiously behind him. Automatically, she twisted to see who he was concealing and he fervently hoped that Amelia had rediscovered her composure.
‘Oh, Amelia—I did not notice you there. Allow me to introduce you to our guests as well.’
He felt her step out from behind him, saw her stiffen her delicate spine and set her small shoulders proudly, then watched in fascination as the Viscount’s face became florid at the sight of her.
‘What the hell is she doing here?’ The man was practically pulsating with rage.
Amelia appeared completely unmoved by Bray’s peculiar reaction. She stared at him for several moments imperiously, then tilted her lovely head to one side before she spoke.
‘Hello, Father. Abandoned any wives lately?’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Remember—when you marry, you do not simply gain a wife. You gain a family as well. Look carefully into their backgrounds before you align yourself with them...
Amelia felt a wave of unexpected calm settle over her as she faced her father for the first time in four years. She supposed all of her anger and hatred for the man would surge forward soon enough, but right now those emotions were absent and she was grateful for that. What she had to say was best done coldly and dispassionately. With dignity. The very last thing she wanted was to give her horrid father the impression that he still mattered.
People were already falling over themselves to pour into the grand hallway and witness the unfolding drama. As she scanned the faces, she saw Lady Worsted looking horrified, Sir George bewildered and Lady Cecily practically rubbing her hands together with glee. Amelia supposed the girl was well within her rights. There was an air of finality about what she was about to do that was too inevitable at this stage in the proceedings to be prevented.
Her father’s head appeared about to explode. At his side she noticed his fists were clenched and she wondered if he would succumb to his temper and physically lash out, or if he would try to blag his way out of the situation because he was surrounded by his peers. He glared at her menacingly, the warning quite apparent, but she saw the raw panic in his eyes.
Next to him, the Dowager was wringing her hands together nervously while Bennett stood stock-still like a glorious Roman statue, his handsome face devoid of any expression that would let her know what his clever mind was thinking. At least, once this was done, he would give up any thought of continuing their association. That would spare her from ever having to see him again and wondering what it would have been like if things had been different. She did not want to live with that sort of hope. It would destroy her.
But for now she would draw strength from him as he stood loyally by her side. Amelia settled her eyes on her father and said the words she had waited to say, realising as she said them that she had needed to do this to lay the ghosts of her past to rest.
‘You robbed my mother of her soul and her fortune and then you cast her out with nothing. Her blood is on your hands.’
Her father’s eyes burned back, filled with hatred. Amelia saw his mouth begin to open, ready to rail against her charge with his customary vitriol and lies, but his words were halted by the sudden appearance of a large fist. It slammed into his face with such force that she heard the snap as his nose shattered. Blood sprayed in the air like a fountain and, as if in slow motion, her father flew backwards, his arms and legs flailing pathetically. Then everything seemed to suddenly speed up again and he landed flat on his back with a resounding thud on the unforgiving stone floor.
Everyone sucked in a collective gasp of shock before an ominous brittle silence settled over the room. All eyes darted between the Duke, Amelia and the Viscount, splayed on the marble. Sir George was the first to rush forward to kneel before the prostrate, static body.
‘Is he dead?’ The Duke’s voice sounded flat and emotionless, but his fist was still raised.
Sir George felt for a pulse and looked relieved. ‘No! He’s just unconscious’
‘That is a pity.’ Bennett lowered his fist and turned to his butler calmly. ‘Lovett, see that this mess is returned to its carriage, if you please.’
Then, without another word, he walked casually down the hallway away from the melee, his hands clasped behind his back and his posture erect, almost as if knocking out peers of the realm was something not at all extraordinary and something he did every day as a matter of course.
Amelia and the assembled guests stood gaping as Lovett clicked his fingers and two footmen appeared. She tried to stand proudly as she watched them manhandle her semi-conscious father off the floor and then carry him smartly away, grateful that she was flanked on either side by the Dowager and Sir George. Her knees were suddenly weak and there was a definite lightness in her head, so she tried to breathe deeply in case she swooned and joined her sire on the floor. Nobody spoke. Nobody quite knew the correct etiquette for such a bizarre turn of events. It was all Amelia could do just to blink.
‘Well, I think you would all agree that was a splendid show. I hope you will all understand that this afternoon’s entertainments are now concluded. Allow me to see you to your carriages.’ Sir George took charge and managed to usher everyone towards the main entrance swiftly, ably assisted by Lady Worsted, leaving a stunned Amelia standing next to an equally stunned Dowager. Fragments of their casual conversation filtered back towards the spot where Amelia was currently frozen and she marvelled at how the pair of them could sound so nonchalant when she was still floored by what had happened.
Bennett had punched her father in the face.
Without a word of explanation.
For her.
Oh! How she loved him for that.
She was sure he had broken Venomous’s nose and felt an overwhelming sense of guilt creep over her that she had caused such a distasteful scene.
‘Please accept my apologies, Your Grace. I have ruined your afternoon.’ To her own ears her apology was trite and she sounded emotionless, but really it had all been so wholly unexpected and surreal. How exactly did one correctly apologise for such an incident?
‘No need.’ Amelia turned her eyes towards the Dowager and saw that the woman’s gaze was transfixed on the spot on the floor where her father had lain. There was a note of wonder in her tone. ‘I have never seen Bennett ever do anythin
g like that. He is usually such a reserved individual.’
The very fact that Amelia had witnessed that renowned ducal reserve crack on more than one occasion made her feel both privileged and slightly ashamed. She knew that such displays bothered him and there was little doubt that she had been the root cause of all of them. ‘It is all my fault. I should have told you about my background. If I had, this never would have happened.’
‘Perhaps.’
The Dowager lapsed back into silence and remained that way until the others returned.
They all gathered in the drawing room and Sir George pressed brandy in her hand until, bit by bit, Amelia told them all the truth. Even the parts that she had kept conveniently hidden from Lady Worsted. There seemed to be little point in lying. These people had taken her into their home and now they had been dragged into a scandal. The only omissions she made to the dreadful tale were the parts that were personal to her and Bennett; not only were they too private, but Amelia had no desire to cause the Duke further embarrassment by suggesting that there might have been something between them.
When the sorry tale was done, they all just stared at her. Taking pity on them, she said what needed to be said. ‘I shall pack my things and leave today.’
Amelia went to stand when the Dowager unceremoniously pulled her back down onto the sofa. ‘There will be no packing or leaving, Amelia. Whilst your story is shocking, it is not you who should be punished for what happened. That responsibility lies solely with your dreadful father. Now I understand why Bennett hit him. If I were a man, I would be tempted to punch the bounder myself. As far as we are all concerned, you now live under our protection and that is that.’
Amelia had no idea what Bennett would think, but she was more worried about where he was. Lovett had been sent to fetch him, only to return and tell them that His Grace had gone riding. Hell for leather, by all accounts, and with a face like thunder. As the afternoon ticked by and there was no sign of him, that worry only intensified.
DISCERNING GENTLEMAN'S GUIDE, THE Page 20