“I must confess I am surprised you agreed,” Amelia said. “But she was very patient with me, guiding me through the planning.”
Graham nodded. As if it made him uncomfortable to say, he confessed, “you appeared happy at the notion of Daphne’s suggestion. I wished not to deny you of that, for Heavens knows I have denied you of everything else.”
There was a tightness to his words that broke Amelia’s heart as she gazed at him.
“Your Grac—Graham, you have not denied me of anything.”
He shook his head, as if he thought she lied to him and was asking her to speak further. His mouth was tight as he glanced away and then back down to the roses. “This rose garden was my grandmother’s pride. My mother’s mother. They both raised me to tend to it myself, for my grandmother liked it a certain way that the staff could not capture. Tending to it is my way of honouring her. And…” He tensed. “Well, of showing that I still have humanity, as much as the ton like to say otherwise.”
“I think you have a lot more humanity than you realise,” Amelia told him. “The roses are lovely.” She did not know what else to say, for the duke looked agonized, and she wondered if he truly thought he had denied her.
Yes, she had wished for a love match—a whirlwind romance, and for their marriage not to be a rumored, scandalized thing—but that was not his fault.
“Amelia,” he began, right as she spoke his name. He paused, blinking at her. “I insist you go first.”
But the words died on her tongue, and all she could say was, “I shall be in the library for the remainder of the afternoon.”
Graham looked disappointed for a moment before giving her a sharp nod, those defenses back up. “I shall be in my study.” He paused,moving towards her. “May I… may I walk you back?”
“This is your home,” she pointed out with a hint of jesting. Graham only nodded again, as if reprimanding himself. Together they walked up the length of the gardens, and Amelia bit back a gasp when the backs of their hands brushed against one another. Neither reached for the other’s hand but they moved purposefully, as if to brush again. They never did, but it did not stop Amelia from glancing at her husband longingly.
CHAPTER TWELVE
She had been the Duchess of Blackthorn for only five days when the soiree at the Fairfax manor rolled around.
Having spent too long in front of the mirror, doubting every part of herself, wondering if she was good enough to be presented as the Duchess of Blackthorn in society for the first time, Amelia eventually had to leave. She wore a deeply rich red evening gown, the neckline more daring than usual but still modest, and the gentle beading on the bodice caught every light she walked beneath.
When she finally made it to the foyer of the townhouse, she was greeted by a very impatient husband, who couldn’t compose his scowl long enough to give her a smoother expression. Amelia cringed with embarrassment.
“We are late,” he told her. “The carriage is ready and waiting.”
Admonished, she nodded, and walked out of the townhouse behind him, picking up her skirts. Once she climbed into the carriage, Graham shut the door behind them, trapping them in a tense silence.
“I apologise for the delay,” she said quietly after a few unbearable moments. He turned the scowl onto her again.
“I cannot endure the ton as it is,” he muttered. “Being late means everybody stares that much harder.”
In the dim carriage light, his scar looked harder, the jagged lines painfully stark against his face. He was no less handsome for it, Amelia thought, but kept the thought to herself.
“I only worried, for I have been a quiet lady all my life,” she admitted. “I know you are aware of that but I found myself unable to quell the worry. I am appearing as your duchess for the first time, and that causes great anxiety.”
She was surprised she could even speak her mind, but it was fruitless, for Graham only turned away, when Amelia had desperately hoped for some sort of verbal reassurance.
They reached the Fairfax residence, and moments before they pulled up outside, Graham looked back to her.
“Amelia, you look every inch of what a duchess should be,” he told her unexpectedly. “Remember that their words may have mattered before but our situation has happened and has been resolved. Their words cannot affect you any longer. Should they prove to, we shall leave when you areready.”
Although his voice was gruff, as if resisting the words he spoke, Amelia could only soften at his assurance. She nodded, biting her lip, as she toyed with the fullness of her skirts. It was then that she noticed his cravat matched her dress, and the solidarity, that simple similarity, rang through her tenderly. He had allowed such a thing, for his valet would have told him, surely, of their matching theme.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “And… well, I am not blind to the knowledge that people say I tricked you into this marriage. If you feel the whispers are too much as well, we shall depart. I did not trick you, Graham, and I hope you are aware of that.”
He only gazed back at her in a way she could not decipher. Eventually he answered, “the ton shall believe what it chooses. We cannot do very much to sway their minds. All we can do is present a united front. I ask that you work with me for that.”
With that, he opened the door and helped her out of the carriage.
***
The Fairfax ballroom was resplendent with hues, adorned in shades of rose and ivory that enveloped the residence in a delightful tapestry of colour. Amelia hovered in the doorway with the duke, her eyes on the glittering ball below, where ladies stood in groups, waiting to be asked to dance, and men shook hands with one another, already scoping out the lady they wished to woo.
