“Your Grace.” She curtsied deeply, looking at Graham. Her eyes went to Amelia, a warm smile on her face. “Duchess. I am Mrs. Winters, the housekeeper here at Blackthorn. I shall be seeing you to your chambers, and having your lady’s maid acquainted with the residence. She has been adapting excellently.”
Relief flooded Amelia at the thought of one familiar face.
“Mrs. Winters, I am sure you shall see to it that Her Grace wants for nothing while here. Are her rooms prepared?”
“I have finalised them myself, Your Grace,” the housekeeper assured him. “All is in order.”
“Good.” With that, Graham strode into the house, leaving Amelia confused and to be ushered in by Mrs. Winters. Inside, Blackthorn was a behemoth of wealth and opulence, lavish furnishings accentuated with gold and bronze, with busts topping columns throughout the hallway beyond.Amelia was led up a grand staircase to another floor of the house, where she was shown to her chambers.
“They are next to His Grace’s,” the housekeeper told her. “Should they not please you, do let me know, and we shall see that you are moved to ones more suited. The Dowager Duchess Felicity is further down the hallway, and Lady Daphne’s rooms are next to hers. Both of them have left for a tearoom to allow you some time to settle in but shall be back for dinner.”
Amelia, trying to map out the layout around herself, could only nod.
“As you are now the mistress of the house, may I take your requests for dinner, Your Grace?”
“My requests?”
Mrs. Winters nodded expectantly. “I understand the ceremony was hasty, so perhaps you were not fully informed. But you shall be choosing the dinner selections from now on. His Grace sent a messenger ahead with instructions for me to acquire some favourites of yours from the Hawthorne’s cook. If you would like, I can have a menu inspired by what you would have had in your former home.”
Feeling out of her depth, Amelia only nodded, for she had only ever had to walk into the dining room and everything had been taken care of.
“That would be lovely,” she said slowly. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Winters curtseyed again, and soon, Lily entered.
“Well, Your Grace, it is time I unpack you into your ducal room, and then I shall prepare you for dinner!” Her gleeful smile was at odds with Amelia’s nerves. She was happy Lily was pleased to now serve a duchess but she could not quell her own insecurity at not performing well enough.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Graham’s thoughts were a mess of confusion, longing, and resentment at himself for being so careless.
Even as he entered the dining room that evening, trying to prepare himself for seeing his wife again, he was still not quelled.
“Ah, he finally emerges,” Daphne giggled, already seated at the table. “I thought you would remain in your study all day and night.”
He silenced her with a scowl as he took his seat at the head of the table. “Where is the duchess?”
“She has yet to come down,” his mother told him gently. “Graham… I know this marriage has not been ideal but do try to be kind to her.”
“I am kind,” he growled. Then he sighed, realizing why he had been told such a thing. He picked up the glass of wine that had already been poured ahead of his arrival at the table. “I am… conflicted.”
“Speak to us,” Daphne urged. “For I think Her Grace is a fine choice for a duchess, and I wish for her to only have the best life here.”
“I feel as though I cannot—”
He cut himself off when a gentle throat clearing made him turn, right as the duchess—his wife—entered. All thoughts vanished from his head. At his aunt’s ball, Amelia had looked breathtaking in a shimmering dress, and then at the garden party, decorated with floral patterns and fresh colors, as though she brought the spring season herself.
But now she wore the wardrobe of a duchess that he had ensured was prepared for her. The last three days had seen him arranging everything for her arrival. He had left a letter on her writing desk, announcing that should she have any choices for other gowns he would see it sorted with the accounts; she would only need to attend the modiste with Daphne or his mother at her own leisure.
For now, though, he had equipped her with a wardrobe in similar colors to what he had seen.
And the gown she had chosen reminded him of the night they had met, when one arm to catch her around the waist had started this entire arrangement. When one clumsy collision had ended up in him having a wife, when he had been so resigned to the idea.
With sleeves of silver gossamer that accentuated her slender, pale arms, the dress Amelia wore framed her body prettily, with a fitted bodice that had a layer of shimmering fabric over a solid silver material beneath.Her skirt hung in a similar fashion, a shimmering layer that caught the light, draped over an opaque skirt that fell to her feet.
“Duchess.” He stood to pull out her chair, inviting her to be seated at the table. She met his eyes, and he could not look away from her for one moment, his heart pounding. Her hair was styled in an elegant updo, somehow making her look more regal than he had seen before. Two loose strands curled, framing her face.
“Your Grace, you look stunning,” Daphne gushed, grinning. “I told all of my friends you will be the most beautiful duchess.”
