Page 47 of Maid for the Duke

Miss Flint reached out and touched her arm lightly. ‘Then you will at least know you tried. Sometimes we must be bold and take the opportunities life offers.’

Amelie swallowed hard, her heart aching. Miss Flint had sat in their parlour for less than fifteen minutes and she had seen how Amelie cared for Will. Yet neither of them had ever spoken of love. Amelie knew Will cared for her, felt a deep affection alongside the desire, but perhaps he had allowed that to blossom, knowing there would be an end point to their relationship. He might not want to be tied to her for ever.

‘I will leave you. Lady Elizabeth and I have a long ride back to London.’ She smiled at Amelie and pressed a folded piece of paper into her hand. ‘Whatever you decide, you have a friend in me. Here is my address. If you ever need anything, please call on me here, or write—any time for anything.’

‘Thank you.’

Amelie stayed outside after Miss Flint had disappeared back into the cottage and remained there until long after the carriage had rolled away through the quiet streets of Grantchester. At first she remained alone, lost in her thoughts, but after a while Will came out and joined her. He looked at her cautiously, as if he wasn’t sure how she was going to react. He silently slipped his arms around her and pulled her to him. Amelie felt a little of the tension she was holding melt away, although this time Will’s touch could not fix everything.

‘Tell me what you heard in Cambridge,’ he said as he led her to the little table and chairs that sat at the back of the cottage.

‘I was in Market Square, browsing the stalls, when I heard two women talking about us—well, about you, really. They said you were “holed up in Grantchester with some working girl from London”. They laughed at your audacity at taking me to the ball at Trinity and commented on how they think you are attractive and they would take my place if given the chance.’ Amelie swallowed, reliving the feeling of humiliation that had crashed over her in Cambridge when she had heard the women talking. ‘They knew my name, these two women who I have never met before, who know nothing else about me except my indiscretions.’

‘I am sorry, Amelie.’

She continued, hardly hearing him. ‘And now it is clear the rumours have reached London. You are a duke; of course people are interested in your scandalous behaviour. I cannot believe I was naïve enough to think that out here we were safe.’

Amelie wanted to bang her head against the table but instead pressed her palms hard against her eyes, fighting the sting of tears. ‘How could I be so foolish? I should have known better. I should never have allowed myself to be seen with you in public, never let you take me to that ball. I’ve ruined myself, Will. Whatever happens to you, you will recover, your title will protect you. But me? I will never be free of this. I will always be the maid who let herself be seduced by the duke. The fool.’

Will reached across the little table and took her hands in his. His grip was steady, though his voice was low with guilt. ‘Do not blame yourself. If anyone is at fault, it is me. I should never have asked this of you. I put you in this position. I should have protected you.’

She shook her head, staring down at their joined hands. ‘And yet, even now, I don’t regret it. Only the consequences.’ Amelie realised it was the truth. These last few weeks with Will had been filled with happiness and contentment. She had felt peace here in Grantchester and, for the first time in a long time, hope for the future. Will had opened her heart to the possibility of love. After thinking she would never want a relationship, never want to rely on another, he had made her realise everything she was missing.

Groaning, she closed her eyes. It was such a mess, and a mess of her own making. She had known an affair with Will had the potential to be uncovered, to end in scandal, yet she had allowed herself to be swept along by her desire. It had been selfish and reckless and she could not escape the fact that she had brought this upon herself. In many ways she was no better than her father. He had brought shame on the family with his gambling and his debts and she had now compounded that shame by becoming the mistress of a duke.

Amelie felt the panic take hold of her. Whatever they decided, the outcome would be disastrous. If she declined to become Will’s mistress she would once more be on her own. Without a job she would be back on the streets, searching for employment whilst desperately trying to keep a roof over her kin’s heads. The practicalities were a worry, but alongside that she would lose Will, the man who had made her feel happiness again. Amelie felt despair threaten to overcome her.

The alternative was no better. In that scenario she would keep Will, but only part of him. She would be hidden away like a dirty little secret, never able to tell anyone the truth about her life. It would be a half-existence, condemned to the shadows.

‘Amelie, I meant what I said inside. I will find a way through this, for both of us. Lady Elizabeth’s offer is not what I ever imagined for my life, but perhaps it could work.’

‘Are you considering Lady Elizabeth’s proposal?’ She had wondered if he would dismiss it immediately, but then she saw the longing in his eyes. She might not be worthy of becoming his wife, but he did care for her, and she knew he would find it hard to give her up.

‘I am,’ he admitted. ‘Think of it—you settled comfortably in a quiet house in the countryside, with no mistress or employer to govern your every movement. I would visit you, as I have here. We could walk by the river, sit by the fire, talk as we always have. Nothing need change between us, except perhaps that you would no longer have to worry about losing your place or finding a new one.’

Amelie stared at him, her lips pressed tight. ‘And my brother and sisters?’ she whispered.

He hesitated only a moment before nodding. ‘If they wished, they could live with you too. No one would deny it. I would see to their care, their schooling. They would want for nothing.’

Her chest rose and fell quickly, as if she could not draw enough air. It was everything she wanted, and yet it felt wrong, hollow.

‘I don’t know, Will,’ she said at last, her voice breaking. ‘It sounds like freedom, but it also sounds like a prison. To live so near you but never truly be yours…’ She pulled her hands from his, pressing them to her chest as though to still her heart. ‘I need time to think. Please don’t ask me for an answer now.’

Will reached out but let his hand fall short of touching her. His eyes searched hers, filled with longing and regret. ‘Of course; take all the time you need.’

Amelie stood, unsure where she was going to go. She could not show her face in Grantchester now, not with the gossip swirling around them. Yet she wanted to stride out, to walk until her legs ached and her lungs burned. Instead, she retreated inside to her bedroom, hating how confined she felt.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Amelie sat with her feet dangling off the jetty, enjoying the sensation of the water flowing over her toes. This perfect little spot was a few miles upstream from Grantchester, on the way to nowhere in particular. It was secluded and, because there were no villages close by, no one ever walked down the overgrown path to the river.

She had needed privacy these last couple of days. Amelie was not sure if she had imagined the curious stares or disapproving glances she had received when out running errands in Grantchester, but she did not wish to add to the speculation surrounding Will and her. It was why she had packed herself a small picnic for breakfast, left Will a note telling him that she needed some time on her own and headed out shortly after dawn.

As was his character, he had been understanding these last few days, but she had seen the impatience in his eyes, felt his desire to get everything sorted once and for all. For him things had returned to at least the semblance of normality. He still rode into Cambridge each day and worked on his book in the Peterhouse library, and he still came home to the cottage of an evening to share a meal with Amelie. Amelie returned to her own bed at night, missing his body next to hers.

This morning, as she’d lain lonely in her bed, she had listened to the birds singing the dawn chorus and decided today must be the day she made a decision. Prolonging the uncertainty was not doing either of them any good. So she had packed her breakfast, pulled on her boots and headed to the secluded spot by the river shortly after sunrise.

Now she was here, she didn’t know where to begin. She was still hurting, feeling the sting of the women’s words in the marketplace. They had called her a working girl, a prostitute, and that had hurt, perhaps because of the ring of truth to it. Will had not paid her for their intimacy, but she had benefited from their closeness. For these past few weeks her family had experienced a much better way of life, tucked away in the outskirts of London with Mrs Hampton. Will was paying his old nanny. Amelie was not sure how much she was charging but it would be more than Amelie could afford.