Page 31 of Maid for the Duke

Amelie knocked, feeling a rush of mixed emotions as she heard her father’s voice calling for her to enter.

‘Amelie, my darling girl. I thought you had forgotten about your dear old papa. It has been weeks since you last visited,’ he admonished her, although he kept his tone cheerful. His eyes flicked to Will, taking in his impeccably tailored suit, smart, shiny shoes and perfectly laundered shirt. She felt her heart sink as she saw the predatory look in his eyes as he swung his legs off his narrow bed and stood. ‘Excuse my manners, I did not realise we had company. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.’

Will took her father’s proffered hand and Amelie realised she had made a big mistake, bringing Will in here. She should just have told him about her father’s predicament instead. She might have thought to shock him, to scare him away from her, but she had not fully considered the consequences—one of which was Will actually meeting her father.

‘Are you not going to introduce us, my dear?’

‘Father, this is Lord Beescroft, Duke of Ashmead. Your Grace, this is my father, Mr Somersham.’

‘My lord,’ he said, shaking Will’s hand vigorously. ‘What an unexpected delight. Please take a seat, although I cannot offer you much in the way of hospitality. I am a man brought low by circumstance, alas, and you find me not as I once was.’

There was only one chair in the room, and her father gestured to it, but Will held up a hand.

‘I am quite comfortable standing. You take it, Amelie.’

Amelie sank down onto the chair and regarded her father. He was paler and thinner than when she had last seen him, his hair grown longer. Despite this, he was reasonably well-groomed, with his hair combed and his face cleanly shaven. She wondered how he managed to shave in such a place but did not want to waste her questions on such triviality.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Your Grace?’ Amelie’s father asked, his attention still entirely on the Duke. Amelie felt the familiar sting of disappointment. Her father had never been very interested in her or her brother and sisters. The only person he had ever valued more than himself was Amelie’s mother. When she had died, the selfish streak had intensified, and it was as if he often forgot about his family apart from what they might be able to provide for him.

‘I was concerned about your daughter’s welfare. I did not want her visiting any less salubrious areas of London on her own.’

Mr Somersham’s eyes flicked between Amelie and Will and Amelie could have sworn her father had to keep himself from rubbing his hands together in glee.

‘I have to enquire—as Amelie’s father, you understand—as to what your interest is in my daughter.’

‘She is in my employ,’ Will said simply, his matter-of-fact tone stopping any further questioning.

‘How have you been these past few weeks, Father?’ Amelie asked, eager to change the subject before her father started pressing Will for money.

‘Awful. Half the prisoners have died in the last month from gaol fever. I am meant to share this room but the man in here with me was carted away three days ago. They have reduced me to the most paltry amount of terrible food. Really, Amelie, you need to ensure the warden is paid.’

‘I have paid him today, although most of what I gave him was to settle the bill for the last few weeks.’

‘They have this scheme here,’ Mr Somersham said, turning back to Will, ‘Where if you have a little spare coin, and you are able bodied so likely to be able to find a job that pays a little on a day to day basis, they let you out of the prison at eight in the morning and you do not have to be back until six at night.’

‘It would not work for you,’ Amelie said, sharper than she intended. ‘You have no skills, no contacts in the city. You cannot just walk out of the prison gates and find work.’ She shook her head. Her father hadn’t worked a day in his life and she was under no illusion that he would start now. If he was allowed out even for a single day, no doubt he would find his way to a gambling den and wager what he didn’t have to sink himself further into debt.

‘I understand there are jobs that you can take on in the prison that allow you to earn a little money or extra food,’ Will said quietly.

Her father scoffed. ‘Shovelling filth or cleaning up after the warden and the guards? I could not debase myself in such a way. I am a gentleman.’

Amelie did not even feel any disappointment. She had long ago resigned herself to the fact that her father did not really want to help himself. He wanted to be out of prison, that was undisputed, but he was not willing to do any of the actual work to achieve that goal. Often Amelie would wake at night in a cold sweat, but her dreams had not been filled with ghouls or ghosts; instead they’d been filled with her own father, a dead weight around her neck, dragging her down until he destroyed their whole family.

Will laid a hand on her shoulder and she could feel the tension pulsing through him. This was not his fight, not his family, and it pained her that a man she barely knew cared more about her sisters and brother than their own father.

‘Perhaps rather than wallowing in self-indulgence you might like to ask your daughter how your other children fare,’ Will said, his tone deceptively light. He pushed on before Mr Somersham could speak. ‘Your son has been unwell with a fever, but thankfully it looks like he will make a full recovery. All three of your younger children have been living in a damp and cramped set of rooms with a woman who does not care for them as she should. And your eldest daughter has been working hard as a servant in order to keep a roof over their heads and to pay your bills.’ Will’s voice rose at the end, the anger apparent in his rigid stance and his harsh words.

‘You dare…’ Mr Somersham began, but Will silenced him with a flick of his hand.

‘A decent man who had got himself into this situation would be willing to do anything and everything to get himself out so he could relieve his daughter of the responsibility for her kin—but instead you sit here, declaring yourself too good to clean up after others.’

‘I do not have to listen to this.’

‘Actually, you do. You are prisoner here, unable to leave. Or had you forgotten?’

Amelie’s father flashed Will a look of disgust, but the importance of respecting the social hierarchy had been drummed into him for too long; he could not rant and rail against a duke.

‘Amelie worries every second of every day about the future of Marie, Harriet and Charles, but they should not be hers to worry about. They are not orphans; they still have their father. You should be ashamed of yourself.’