In equal amounts of self deprecation and slow reminisce, he replayed the events of the night before. That was his first mistake. The emotions raised and the ghost of the passion drove him to shudder, spooking his horse into sidestepping nervously. Even faraway Amelia proved again and again how easily she could unman him.
He had woken up with doubt ringing in his head. The ghost of that voice telling him the words he had tried to outrun all his life. Even from the grave his father haunted him. He had gone off to school and stayed there, walking the straight and narrow, avoiding excess emotion. Here he was dubbed the ‘Black Corinthian’ for all his endeavors.
The horse could not be kept from the stable any longer. It called out, and at the answering neighs it increased its speed into the courtyard of the stables. The grooms accepted the reins from him and when he gave them instruction to rub down the two horses and feed them with warm marsh he was told that Amelia had given the same instructions before she walked into the house. He nodded and made his way into the manor feeling suddenly bereft.
She was ashamed of him, of them. She couldn’t bear his presence, but he had to do the right thing. It didn’t matter if she hated him. He had to look beyond his first flush of emotion and do his duty by her. What if a child had resulted from their union? She would be ruined beyond repair. He had introduced her to the pleasures of the flesh. No, that was too cold for what had transpired between them. They had made love. And now even the friendship of the day before was lost. But there were serious implications of their union, a child could result from it. He couldn’t be sure if the idea made him shudder in fear or shiver in pleasured pride.
No matter her aversion to him, her silence and her—it pained him to admit—possible regrets, he would do right by her. He would do his duty by her. It was a matter he had to set to right.
“Your Grace, I have laid out your morning apparel and a bath has been drawn.” His valet interrupted his thoughts.
“Excellent Giles. How is Lord Rochester?” he asked with a slightly interested tone.
“He is at breakfast. He has no idea the lady has not spent the night in the household. The news among the servants is that he is not to be told,” the valet informed him in a bland tone.
“Hmm,” he answered as he stripped the wrinkled dirty clothes from himself. So she wanted to hide the truth of it. If it was noted they had spent the night in close quarters he could be forced to marry her, even if nothing had passed between them. But they were no strangers to each other. It galled him especially to have her prefer ruination to being saddled with him in marriage.
He stepped into the tub and steeped for a while.
His valet gathered the clothes off the floor, his brow rising when he found them to be perfectly dry, but Lord Windon was not a person one asked such questions.
"Should I have a tray brought up to you?" Dashed deuce, Giles had caught him in reverie again. It was fast becoming a habit this morning, and a pair of green eyes bore the blame. Windon lifted his face to find his valet regarding him with a more peculiar expression than ever before.
"No, I shall go down to breakfast," he informed the dratted man.
"Of course, Your Grace. Very good," was the bland reply.
"Have Lord Rochester’s solicitor summoned as soon as possible. I have business of a delicate nature that I wish to discuss with Lord Rochester after the morning repast," Robert ordered with more bite that ever.
"Of course, Your Grace. I shall have a servant summon him," Giles answered.
"And can all this be done without alerting the servants or the lady herself?" Robert added as an afterthought. He knew she would love to thwart him, and he was very aware that more their pride was on the line.
"Very well," the valet answered without a hint of how absurd he found the request.
"That will be all" he dismissed his valet as he settled into the water.
"Thank you, Your Grace." With that, and the clothes, the valet made a hasty retreat out of the room.
Lord Windon applied himself to getting clean, scrubbing and luxuriating in the hot water while thinking on the meaning of her actions. Refusing to inform Lord Rochester of her location the night before was a risky move. Did she really prefer ruin to bearing the title of his duchess? He wanted it to not be true, but things rarely changed because he wished it.
He turned his mind from the painful prospect and continued with logic. It would be a dishonorable thing for Lord Rochester to hear it from gossip after he was gone. And he was going, today, but before he left he would sign a betrothal contract. It was legal and binding. Neither one of them could step out of it without utter disgrace, something he was sure she would not be willing to entertain. This was absolutely important for the future and any child born out of their ill-timed union. It was for the best, even if she was reticent.
***
Amelia was made of stern stuff, but she could not find it in herself to go down and face her father when she had spent the night in debauchery with a peer of the realm and, more importantly, a guest of his. It didn’t matter that he did not have an inkling of the ill timed act or even that she had spent a night outside of the haven of her home. None of the servants would risk her ill will to tell their lord, nor would Robert himself stoop to such levels as to divulge such crass happenings, but she could not shake the heavy ache in her belly. She was a fallen woman and surely, because she was doomed, the whole world would know it too.
That did not take the brunt of her pain. Robert was an infernal duke with his heart hidden away. His eyes had been compelling as she enjoyed the expertise of his finger skimming her skin. The ghosts of the touches of last night invaded her senses again and she shuddered.
Mary noticed the shiver racking her lady’s frame and exclaimed, “My lady, have you taken ill?”
"No, Mary.” Mary nodded but surreptitiously added mustard powder to the steaming bath water and moved to undress her lady.
Amelia wondered if she would ever be free of the encounter. It hung over her like the sword of Damocles, threatening to sever all happiness. Yet she treasured it to herself dearly too.
Mary noticed the mangled stay strings and wondered out loud. "Did you tend to yourself?" It was a question that had no true answer and its aim was more than enquiry about dressing and undressing. Amelia did not answer but limited herself to grunting softly. But when she stripped to her chemise another shock was waiting for her.
The white material was stained red and for a moment of fear she thought that it was the proof of her maidenhood that spilled but then she remembered last night and she recalled also that the clothing had been pristine when she had donned them. The answer filtered through her mind, eclipsing fear for a while.
"Are you ruined, milady?" The question was heavy and Mary had summed a good amount of her courage. Her concern was bleeding though.
Amelia did not pause to answer. “It is only my courses,” she replied as airily as possible.
Amelia washed herself, refusing Mary’s fussing. She lay in the metal tub as Mary puttered up and down. But she could not hide forever and soon got out of the bath and started to dress. She put on the things Mary brought her: the long pad of cloth, the belt and the binder that held it in place. At least she did not suffer at this time like many women were wont to. She could not very well bear that and her current shame.
Mary brought a pale green dress of muslin and all the petticoats and stockings to her lady.
"Will you be having breakfast at your convenience?" Mary asked as she passed on a shift to her. The gruff tone told Amelia more than anything she was aware of the undertone in the room.
Amelia considered it only for a moment before she agreed, putting the shift and stays on. Mary turned to her back and began to lace it up. "I want a full breakfast brought up," she instructed. Thinking on what had happened had kept the hunger at bay, but once noticed it became an urgent and rabid need.
Mary nodded and notched the laces tighter. "Not so tight, Mary. I cannot breathe."
"I’m sorry, milady. What shall I tell your father, if he enquires after you?" Mary answered and loosened her hand. The question brought the ugly matters to head and made Amelia anxious.
"Tell him I’m suffering a female malady." Amelia returned curtly, trying to cut off any other leading questions. Not only did it aggravate her, it showed her too clearly this was a pathetic attempt to close the stable door after the horse had bolted. She stepped into the petticoats and Mary tied them off at the back.
The soft material flowed over the underthings and its inert form was given elegant form. Mary fastened the row of small hooks down the front of her day gown with her anxious expression hovering. Amelia kept her own face blank.
She signaled no to Mary, who tried to braid her hair, and told her instead. “A simple coiffure perhaps, I will spend a better part of the day in my own company.”
Mary muttered at the oddness of her mistress this morning and did as she was told. Amelia knew that gossip would be rife in the household. Even if she trusted Mary her silence would only fan the flames.
Amelia rested on her bed and Mary attempted to clear away all the evidences of a bath. When she had closed the door behind her, Amelia released the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Notoriety did not suit her in the least. She was wise to postpone going down to breakfast and facing her father’s sincere gaze and Robert’s own eyes filled with censure and veiled disgust.
She patted her bodice and turned back into bed. She would be a coward today, something her entire being usually rebelled strongly against. Today she would put off going down. She was happy to miss the accusing eyes, the undeniable evidence that last night had happened, that and the moments of remembrance. Even if she could never forget it.
Mary returned with a chamber maid who was carrying the makings of a hearty meal. Her stomach growled and Amelia reached for the offered cup of hot chocolate. Dining in the comfort of her room, Amelia missed an important battle. Lord Windon was more than pleased to have not had her to deal with as well.
Chapter Eleven
Lord Windon reached up to dip the tip of the quill in the ink pot. He scrapped the excess ink off the top and signed his signature with a flourish on the paper.
Lord Rochester’s solicitor, Mister Smythe, pulled another sheaf from his pile and tendered then to Lord Windon.
"Does this contain the condition I want affixed?" Windon accepted the paper offered.
"Yes sir. But I must say..." The solicitor started to explain but Lord Windon paid more attention to the paper in front of him.
"Is it legal?" He glanced through the papers.
"Yes, quite. Your instructions were quite precise. I dare say it would hold even against the Crown, and in that vein I must advice you to..." The solicitor was agitated.
"Very well, Smythe. I am most grateful."
"Sir, the process cannot be second guessed. And signing that paper in the presence of such a witness as Lord Rochester and I renders it completely binding," Smythe advised.
"I am well aware." Lord Windon nodded curtly.
Lord Rochester piped in finally. "I do not think Lord Windon will take kindly to the continued doubt you are casting on his actions."
"It is unheard of. I must..." Smythe sputtered again, trying a last-ditch effort to stop what he had no doubt concluded was an insane act.
One eyebrow raised in a look that had quelled even stronger men, made sure the rest of that sentence was lost. After the other man kept his thoughts to himself, Lord Windon took an inordinate amount of joy in signing this this particular paper. This was more a declaration Amelia than her father. He had no use for her estate and he was a man of his word, even if the circumstances had gone in ways he had never envisioned. She could console herself with the fact that she was losing nothing. Her life would not change in any way.
When he had signed it and rested the quill in the ink pot, Lord Rochester smiled proudly, looking slightly besotted. Lord Windon smiled back, if only in response. He felt guilt riding him and fear at her reaction. His entire life he had not feared another human being, not even his father. He had loathed his father, but not feared him. Here he was afraid of a wisp of girl.
Lord Rochester’s solicitor was not smiling. He was not quite convinced that Lord Windon was sane. Perhaps this was an elaborate hoax for his benefit. Nevermind that his own part was just to draw up the papers, and he had taken his own sweet time presenting them. The instructions were quite unbelievable. It was an unheard of to have a husband give complete rights to a wife concerning her estates and her income.
Lord Rochester stated firmly, "Smythe, have my butler attend me. A bottle of our finest port to toast the future union of my daughter," he directed his solicitor.
Robert winced at Lord Rochester’s choice of words. It brought to mind what had happened, what had spurred this meeting. Lord Rochester did not catch his reaction thankfully. He looked at his employee, who greeted the order with a huff. Then the younger man got up from his chair and stalked towards the door in full disapproval. He was sure the man had consigned him to Bedlam.
When the door clicked, Lord Windon slouched slightly in his seat and looked at Lord Rochester, a sincere look now. The older man was still smiling. "I take it she has no idea what has transpired in the room." No fool, Lord Rochester.
"No, my lord." He had to tell the truth.
Lord Rochester stopped him with a wave of stiff fingers. "We are even closer than acquaintances, and if anything you must call me Frederick," he offered magnanimously.
"I cannot, my lord" Lord Windon said.
"You will find you can. Tell me this, I have a feeling that my daughter has no idea what is happening in this room,” Lord Rochester stated with a dry chuckle.
"I have not proposed—That is, I have discussed the idea with her, but she has not given me her answer." At Lord Rochester’s raised eyebrow he continued. "She would have given me her thoughts on it today, but I could not quite wait."
"A curious thing. I accepted your suit on her behalf because I know that she is not averse to you, and your intentions are kindly." Lord Rochester stated this in a quiet way. Lord Windon was confused as to the point of the words. He made a move to interrupt, but Lord Rochester just ploughed on with a stern look.
"You have proved it beyond doubt by the papers signed today. My solicitor might be overzealous, but he has aired the doubts I had, and knowing that you have shown us both up by signing anyway. For her sake, I am grateful from this match even if I shall leave the breaking of the news to you." Lord Rochester was finished. It was an acceptance speech, but Lord Windon could not help the wave of guilt and unease it evoked in himself.
Lord Windon fingered his cravat at that last thought. He caught the earl smiling widely at his obvious sign of discomfort and he stopped, patting the stifling knot. "I must return to my estates, post-haste." He was running away, there were no kinder words.
"You won’t stay here for the reading of the banns?" Lord Rochester asked, more a statement than a question.
"There is no need. I will return on the third Monday and we can be married in the morning." The way he answered would mean he had discussed the issue with her. He had not at all done anything of the sort with her, but he doubted that a union with him was something she would be willing to celebrate.
"You will, however, allow me tonight to celebrate this?" He added quickly at the dissension on the face of Lord Windon. "I assure you, not a formal party but an announcement to the house and a festive dinner?"
"I cannot in good faith begrudge you that." He had the power to refuse and he wanted to refuse for other reasons, but he could not take the obvious pleasure of the older man.
"I thank you," Lord Rochester nodded.
The door opened to reveal the butler clutching a bottle and a service of crystal snifters. He placed the tray on the table in the study and made short work of the cork. The first glass was proffered to Lord Windon, then Lord Rochester, then Mister Smythe who was still spo
rting the obvious look of disbelief. Robert confessed to himself finally that the thought rankled endlessly. But he had more of that to face when the news spread. It was too bizarre an act to be kept under wraps forever. London would be a trial.
"To my daughter’s union." Lord Rochester proposed with an obvious cheer that was shown only by himself. The men raised their glasses and drained the contents. Lord Rochester merely wet his lips.
The butler was curious but held himself back. Lord Rochester noticed the gleaming curiosity and smiled now. “Lord Windon has signed the betrothal contract. Tell Cook there will be a banquet tonight to celebrate with the entire household. Break out the cask of summer ale in the cellar, Winthrop."
“Very well, your lordship." The butler greeted the news with a shudder of obvious relief that no one but Lord Windon caught. The butler exited, followed closely by Mister Smythe. Somehow Lord Windon knew the contents of the papers he had signed would be all over the estate by teatime.
"The matter of making things known to my daughter..." Lord Windon held his breath. "I believe I will leave that to you, as I have said earlier. But you must tell her before the dinner. It is only right."
Duty. Is that what would be left to him for the rest of his life? He was loath to spend the rest of his life doing what was right. He sighed softly. It would be shabby to expect Lord Rochester to break the news to his daughter. It was his own problems, and he had to deal with it by himself. Just not yet. He couldn't face her wrath just yet.
Chapter Twelve
The butler had delivered the news along with dinner instructions to the kitchen. Mary had snatched that titbit and hauled it up the stairs with glee to assault her mistress with. Lady Amelia’s stomach didn't like the news any bit. It rebelled, losing the reins on its tenderness during her monthly bleeding and hurled the unrecognisable contents of breakfast in a chamber pot.
Regency Romance Omnibus 2018: Dominate Dukes & Tenacious Women Page 52