She stopped jerking to escape and stared at him evenly. “Don’t you dare compare yourself to my husband. You are not half the man Hugh is. Not a tenth.”
Walters didn’t blink or flinch. Without warning or preamble, he simply threw his free hand back and hit her hard across the left cheek. She staggered, stunned as pain roared through her face and up into her ears. His grip on her arm tightened, as if to keep her upright, and he smiled at her.
“I would expect his whore to say nothing less. You are a loyal little lapdog, aren’t you?” He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a pistol. He lifted it to point it at her as he slowly let her go and backed away.
She stared at the barrel of the gun, pointed at her face, then back up to him. “What are you going to do?” she whispered.
“Ask him,” Walters said, motioning his head to a spot behind her.
She turned and caught her breath. Hugh was standing in the door to the parlor, staring at the scene before him. His face was drained of all color, and in his hand he held a pistol of his own.
“Let her go,” Hugh said, looking at Amelia, not at Walters. Her face was swollen already from where the bastard had struck her, and she was watching him with terror and faith on her face. She might hate him, but she was happy to see him.
And he had to save her.
“Let her go,” he repeated, this time stronger. “Your quarrel is with me.”
Walters chuckled. “You think we are in a quarrel? This is far beyond that, Your Grace. You have damaged me, hurt me and my prospects in Society. I want to return the favor. And what better way to do that than to hurt her?”
He shook the gun toward Amelia, and she made a soft sound of fear deep in her throat that cut Hugh down to his very core.
“That was always your weakness, you know,” Walters continued. “Caring about others. Had you simply exposed me after your sister, this wouldn’t be happening. But you wanted to protect her. You were so desperate to protect her. And I can see that same desperation now. It will get me whatever I want, won’t it?”
“Yes,” Hugh said, hating that word and clinging to it at the same time. “Whatever you want.”
“More money?” Walters taunted.
“Yes,” he repeated. “And you’ll need it. You must know that the War Department has looked into your past. They know about Stephen Monroe. They know about the girl you married and murdered.”
For the first time, Walters’ smug expression wavered and the gun in his hand trembled slightly. Amelia squeezed her eyes shut, her fists clenched at her sides. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and Hugh couldn’t even touch her, comfort her.
“You sent the War Department after me?” Walters growled.
“I have friends there. They took it upon themselves,” Hugh said, recognizing the rage that was bubbling up in this dangerous, unhinged man. “They are circling, coming for you. But if you let Amelia go, you can run. I’ll send money—you can go to the continent, you could go anywhere.”
Of course he had no intention of doing any such thing, not this time. But if Walters would look at his past and think he would let him go, that could save Amelia, which was all that mattered.
“I will go,” Walters said. “After.”
Hugh edged toward Amelia. “Then shoot me. Don’t shoot her, shoot me.”
He positioned himself in front of her and set his gun on the ground.
“Hugh,” she said softly, her hand coming up to curl against his hip. “No. No.”
“Shhh,” he soothed her without looking away from Walters. “Shoot me, I’m the one you hate. I’m the one who ruined everything. You want me to plead for you? I’ll do it. Do not murder the woman I love. Take me and let her live.”
Walters’ face brightened with a little pleasure. “A very nice request. One filled with heartfelt emotion, even. But I think I’ll kill you both. You both deserve it. You first, Your Grace, so that Amelia can see you make your noble sacrifice. And then her, so that she bleeds out next to you on my floor.”
His finger slid to the trigger of the gun, and Hugh reached behind himself, taking Amelia’s hand as he waited for the moment when his world would become pain and then darkness.
But before Walters could shoot, there was a crash in the foyer and Lucas jumped into the room, firing off a shot that dropped Walters where he stood.
Hugh pivoted, diving on top of Amelia and dragging her to the ground where he covered her trembling body with his own just in case Walters had any fight in him. But there was nothing, only the ring of Lucas’s shot in the air and the acrid smell of gunpowder.
“Are you two well?” Lucas said, crouching next to them as half a dozen men filed into the room, guns drawn and at the ready.
Hugh lifted his head and looked down at Amelia. She was staring up at him, her hands cupping his cheeks, her body shaking beneath him.
“Amelia?” he asked. “Amelia, are you hurt?”
“No,” she gasped out. “No, are you?”
“No,” he whispered, then dropped his mouth to hers. She let him kiss her, didn’t pull away, though she had every right to do so. He kissed her, not with passion, but with utter relief. With terror at what he had so nearly lost.
But when he pulled away and rolled off of her, getting up to help her back to her feet, he knew this wasn’t over. Not even close. And losing his wife might still be a very strong possibility.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“What will happen now?” Amelia asked as their carriage turned back into the drive at the London estate an hour later. It was the first thing she had said to Hugh since they got into the vehicle.
He jolted in surprise, like he hadn’t thought she would speak to him ever again. “Lucas says the department has enough evidence to mark the case as a justifiable end to a bad criminal. Our names will be kept out of the report, it seems.”
She dropped her chin. “Like it never happened.”
He let out his breath. “I suppose.”
“Only it did,” she whispered, glancing up at him and flinching as she flashed back to the moment Hugh had stepped in front of her, ready to take a bullet to save her life, and said that he loved her. She would never forget it.
“Yes, it did,” he said, reaching for her hand. She let him hold it for a moment, then slid it away. He sighed again. “I want to talk to you about this, Amelia. I want to talk to you about everything.”
She nodded. “You owe me an explanation. But you also owe your sister the same. She will want to know about Walters, too. And his end.”
He turned his head. “It will hurt her.”
“Yes,” Amelia agreed. “But the alternative is to lie and I think you’ve done more than enough of that. The truth is what this situation requires, Hugh. I suggest you start telling it.”
The carriage door opened and she took the footman’s waiting hand and stepped out. Stepped away from Hugh and up into the house. She knew he was trailing behind her, she felt his presence, just as she always felt his presence. It was unavoidable. Looming.
Comforting.
But today she couldn’t get lost in that. Today she deserved more than his comfort. She deserved to know the answers to her questions. She deserved the anger she felt in her chest.
She had earned it.
As she stepped inside, Diana and Lizzie rushed into the foyer. Lizzie’s face was pale as she hurried to embrace her brother. Diana came to Amelia, and her fingers reached out to gently trace the bruise on Amelia’s cheek.
“I’m so glad you weren’t permanently harmed,” she whispered as she hugged Amelia. Amelia almost buckled at the embrace, but managed to keep herself upright.
“It is thanks to your husband,” she whispered, and then glanced back at where Lizzie and her brother were still hugging.
Diana’s eyebrows lifted. “How bad?” she asked.
“Bad,” Amelia said. “Lucas is unharmed. He saved our lives.”
Diana nod
ded slowly. “He is good at that.”
“He stayed behind to finish up with the reporting. He said he would see you at home.”
“Then I’ll leave you now, for it seems your family has much to process together. But I hope you’ll let me see you again, perhaps tomorrow or the next day.”
“Of course,” Amelia said, leaning up to kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”
She moved into the parlor as she heard Diana say her goodbyes. Her hands shook as she tried to pour herself tea, sloshing hot liquid onto the saucer before she managed to get the cup filled. As she took the first sip, Lizzie and Hugh entered the room.
And again, she felt his eyes on her. It was like the beginning of their relationship, when he’d sometimes just watched her. Reading her. At the time, that had made her nervous. She didn’t understand it or him.
Now she did and it took everything in her not to rush into his arms and let him comfort her.
Lizzie moved over to her, and Amelia set her teacup down as she was pulled in for a hug. When she backed away at last, Lizzie stared at her face in horror. “Oh, Amelia,” she breathed. “Did he do that to you?”
Amelia reached up to touch the bruise, which now ached dully. “He did,” she said, determined not to lie, if only to set a good example for Hugh. “He wanted to do worse, but…but he cannot any longer.”
Lizzie shook her head and looked at Hugh in question. “What?”
He cleared his throat. “Aaron Walters is dead, Lizzie,” he said, gently but firmly. As she lifted her hand to her mouth in shock, he continued, “He attacked Amelia, with the intention of killing her. Luckily the authorities came in and he was struck down. He cannot hurt you, hurt us, any longer.”
Lizzie staggered to the settee and sat down hard. She stared at the floor in front of her, shaking her head in silence. Amelia pushed aside her own upset and took the place beside her.
“What are you feeling?” she asked. “There is no wrong answer.”
“Sad,” Lizzie admitted. “And relieved.”
Amelia nodded as she took her hand. “I feel the same.”
“Why did he attack you?” Lizzie asked. “Because you confronted him about me? Is this my fault?”
Amelia glanced up at Hugh. His face was positively crumpled, broken. She understood why he wanted to protect Lizzie from the truth. Protect himself from the consequences. She met his stare and held it, hoping he would find strength.
He sighed and took a place in one of the chairs across from the settee. “I have lied to you, Lizzie,” he said after what felt like forever. “I’ve lied to you and I’ve lied to Amelia. And I need to be honest now.”
“Lied to me?” Lizzie sounded utterly confused. “No, Hugh. You are the most honorable man I know.”
He shut his eyes, and the pain that flowed over his expression was heartbreaking. “I am not, Elizabeth. Not in the slightest.”
“Just start at the beginning,” Amelia encouraged softly.
He opened his eyes and his dark gaze snared hers. “The beginning,” he repeated. “Yes. Lizzie, after I found you with Walters, I paid him to keep the secret of what had happened between you.”
“Yes,” she said. “He said you would have to and I thought you must have in the end. I’m so sorry.”
“No,” he said, leaning forward in his chair as if he could draw her closer. “No, I’m sorry. I hated giving that bastard money for his silence. I wanted to call him out, destroy him in every way. Not provide for his comfort.”
“You could have if I hadn’t been so foolish,” Lizzie whispered.
Amelia squeezed her hand. “You are not to blame for a villain’s cruelty, Lizzie. You must let that guilt go. Hugh was trying to protect you as best he could. If you could protect him, you would have done the same.”
She nodded. “I would,” she said on a sigh.
Hugh glanced at Amelia, and she saw his gratitude for her interjection. The one that absolved both him and Lizzie of some of their pain. Then he shook his head and continued, “Letting him go, it didn’t just pain me. I knew the bastard might go back to his evil ways. I had men tracking him. Watching to see if he was going to do something wicked again.”
“And he did?” Lizzie asked.
“Yes,” Amelia said when Hugh seemed to struggle. “He did.”
“Lizzie, Aaron became engaged to…to Amelia,” Hugh said at last.
Lizzie jolted, jerking her hand from Amelia’s and getting up from the couch to back away. “What?”
“I didn’t know about what had happened with you, of course,” Amelia said. “Aaron made me a victim. Just like he did with you, he became the vision of what I wanted.” She glanced at Hugh. “What I thought I wanted.”
“Oh no,” Lizzie said, her whisper filled with the deepest pain.
Hugh nodded. “When I found out, I intervened, but I…I was still hesitant to give details as to why Amelia shouldn’t marry this man. So I…I lied to force her to marry me instead.”
Amelia caught her breath and focused only on her husband. “You told me that you owned my father’s debts,” she said. “Was that true? Did you buy them in order to manipulate me or were there ever any debts at all?”
“I lied,” he admitted softly. “Your father’s idea. He said you would protect him at any cost. He made up the story about the debts, knowing it would turn you against me but also force your hand. I went along with it, despite how distasteful I found it. I lied, Amelia.”
The gravity of all that had happened hit Amelia with the force of a tidal wave. She heard a sound in the air and realized with a start that it was her own moan of pain, of heartbreak. And in that moment, she felt like it would never stop hurting again.
Nausea washed over Hugh as he stared at Amelia, her body bent over, her shoulders shaking as she made a sound of anguish that felt like it shattered his very soul. He had done this to her. Not Walters, not her father…him. And he wanted to rush to her, to comfort her, to erase what he’d done.
But he couldn’t. The best he could do was sit with the consequences and feel them. He owed her that.
Lizzie moved to him, and her hand came to rest on his shoulder. He started, for he had almost forgotten she was in the room, so focused was he on Amelia. He glanced up and saw her pain, but also her sweetness. Her love for him. Her forgiveness and understanding.
He reached up to cover her hand gently.
“I love you, Hugh,” she whispered. “You know that.”
“I do, though whether I deserve that is a debatable topic.”
She shook her head and leaned down to kiss his temple. “Not debatable at all. But I need to think about what has happened today. And I think you and Amelia need privacy to do the same.” She glanced at Amelia, who was still hunched over in pain. Her concern was clear on her face as she whispered, “Do whatever you can, Hugh.”
He smiled at her as she left the room and shut the door behind her. When the click echoed in the room, Amelia lifted her head and looked at him. She was crumpled, broken and he ached for his part in it.
“I need you to know I’m sorry,” he said. She opened her mouth and he lifted a hand. “Oh, please, let me finish, and then I swear to you I will give you the floor for everything you want to say.”
She shut her mouth and nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I allowed your father’s manipulation. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth in Brighthollow when I began to truly know your character and that you could be trusted with any secret. I wanted to tell you then, so very much. But mostly I’m sorry that my foolishness, my cowardice, put you in danger today.”
She did not respond, but simply watched him. Her expression was hooded, unreadable. He imagined much the same as his own when they had begun. Only she hid from him because she no longer trusted him.
And that crushed him.
“When I saw him with that gun on you…” he whispered, not eve
n caring when his voice broke and tears filled his eyes. “When I thought he’d kill you, I was terrified. Terrified to lose you. Terrified I’d never get to tell you that I love you. I love you, Amelia. It doesn’t excuse what I’ve done, but I need you to know it because tomorrow is not guaranteed and I never want to leave it unsaid again.”
Amelia’s ears rang at that declaration. It was the second time Hugh had said he loved her today, but the first time without it being under deep duress. And the words sank into her skin, just as they had before, and brought a joy to her heart that was almost terrifying in its power.
Especially considering all the other things he’d told her.
“How can I believe you?” she whispered, getting to her feet and walking away because looking at him was too hard. “How can I have faith in you or in myself after everything that has happened? You may say this only to make my anger dissipate. It could very well be another manipulation.”
“No,” he said softly. She turned. He had risen, but did not follow her. “I am not manipulating you. I know those words mean nothing, but they are true. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Amelia. I don’t even ask for it. I betrayed you. Whatever you need to do or hear or say to overcome that, I will give it to you.”
She stared at him. This man she had come to love in their time together. Only she’d thought that of Aaron, too, hadn’t she? Not as powerfully, perhaps. Not as completely. But…trusting herself was just as hard as trusting him.
So she couldn’t launch herself into his arms as she wanted to do. She had to be measured. Careful.
“I want space,” she said, watching his face for the reaction.
Pain washed over his features, but he pushed it away. Went calm again, cool. He nodded slowly. “That is understandable. I will give you that space, Amelia. For as long as you need it. But I’ll be here, whether it’s a day or a week or a month or ten years. I’ll be here waiting.”
The Duke Who Lied Page 20