Graham nodded. Marriages had been successful with far more animosity between the couple. They could fulfill their duties separately, and only have to appear together for events, surely. And if he had to endure a dance every now and then where he recognized how much he craved her then… he would simply have to endure.
His head ducked back towards the ledgers. He moved everything with force, angry at himself as he tried to lose himself in the finer things to assess. There was the redecoration of the sun-room that his mother had expressed wanting, and then there were frames to acquire to replace the old ones that had grown too worn in the portrait gallery. He wished to have the stone wall mended on the outskirts of Blackthorn Manor in the countryside, and the townhouse’s garden wall needed tending to, the part that backed onto the woodlands.
They were minor things that did not require much thought but Graham dedicated his whole morning poring over the smaller details, telling himself that each minute detail was worth looking into. Hehadto enquire through correspondence with every place he knew that made frames rather than only write a letter to a select four or five. He dedicated himself to writing letters rather than going out to visit the staff that would do the redecorating and the wall repairs. That way, the process was longer and it kept his thoughts from going astray.
He spent his morning that way, happily losing himself in a solitary activity where he did not have to question himself. This was familiar—this was comforting ground he knew how to stand on without falling over himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
After the music room performance, Amelia ventured out into the hallway, her heart lighter. She wanted to apologize for leaving Graham on the cliff-side without another word, for being petty and hoping her behavior taught him something about his own.
She did not wish to ignore him, only to have felt her despair at him shutting her out.
The night before had brought them closer together—she could not forget that, and Amelia could only hope that he would not easily forget it, either.
She swept down the hallway, her simple yet pretty blue gown soft beneath her anxious hands that clenched and unclenched, she rounded a corner, only to quickly duck back again. Ahead, two maids looked as though they should have dusting but instead, their heads were bowed, their hushed voices a bare sound in the empty hallway.
“She was a baron’s daughter, wasn’t she?” one maid whispered, glancing around herself as if to check they were truly alone. Amelia’s chest constricted as she listened. “And now she is the duchess.”
“Ourduchess, Mary,” the other maid hissed. “We can’t forget that! We have to respect her.”
Mary scoffed. “What has she done to earn our respect? I know my place in this world, and it is beneath social climbers likeher.”
The accusation rang through Amelia, piercing her through. Her throat closed up, and she pressed a hand to her face in anguish.
“We do not know such things for sure. One of the maids at the Kensington garden party that day is a friend of mine, and she admitted there was nothing of salacious nature going on. She said, if anything, Lady Cassandra Kensington led her group of ladies to the hedge maze as though she expected something wrong.”
“Well, of course she did,” Mary insisted. “If she knew they were in there then she was only right to catch them in the act! There’s just something too convenient about the whole situation. His Grace did not even court her.”
That declaration, true as it was, hit Amelia square in the chest. He hadn’t but that had not been his fault.In another version of our story would he have done? Had we not been found in the maze, would he have asked to court me, become engaged to me?Then she corrected her thoughts. Ofcourse not. He had barely been able to handle the thought of breakfast in a village inn with her, let alone a true, full courtship.
“And marriages can be like that in the ton. We see enough of hasty arrangements.”
“Indeed, that does cover up secrets, or are enacted by cunning ladies who wish to be higher than their station.”
Silence fell, deep and contemplative. “We shouldn’t be speaking like this. It doesn’t feel right, and I don’t want to risk His Grace finding out.”
Had Amelia been Lady Cassandra, or even Bernadette, she’d have stepped out into the hallway and declared that His Grace would indeed find out. She would have them reprimanded for speaking about her. But she wasn’t. For all her confidence the night before, she could only press herself in a shadowed alcove as the maids’ footsteps hurried away, the two of them giggling over one of the new stewards.
Guilt pricked her heart, as if shewasaccused rightly of something. It was as though everybody had spoken about it so much that she was now convincing herself that… what if it was true? After all, she had not left the maze, and she had turned over that thought time and time again. But she’d intended only to briefly have a moment to herself. Amelia had only wanted to escape the stares and the incessant advances from Lord Ambrose.
Had they ever even had a connection or had Amelia fabricated that, too?
Gritting her teeth, annoyed at her own spiraled, paranoid thoughts, she continued on her way to the duke’s study. Knocking, she entered the room.
“I have always told you towait,” came his growl immediately, freezing her in the doorway. Then he looked up, his scowl already deep. “Oh, Amelia. I thought you were the butler.” Graham stiffened at the sight of her, pressing back into his chair. His eyes were heavy and tired, and ink smudged his hands. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and he looked more disheveled than he had done on the cliffs that morning.
“I came to apologise,” she said quietly, stepping into the study, letting the door close heavily behind her. “I pushed too hard this morning, and then rode away pettily, ignoring your calls for me to come back. I did not understand, and I was not patient.”
“No,” he sighed. “No, you were not patient. When will youunderstand, Amelia?”
She quivered, stepping back, her hands balled into fists. “You do not need to be angry with me!”
“And why not?” he shouted. “Can you not see I am busy? You misunderstood me this morning, you assumed I meant the worst of things!But, of course, you have been like everybody else, only seeing the worst of my intentions. The reason I went reclusive, Amelia, is becauseeverybody did that. I would have wanted my own wife to understand, to extend graciousness.”
“I have done nothing but that while you have spiraled through your brooding!”
“It is not merelybroodingwhen I carry scars of my past,” he snapped. “Do not diminish the things I feel or think.”
