Page 49 of Maid for the Duke

‘And I have to give myself the chance to be the love of someone’s life. To have someone who will fight for me, no matter what. Someone who would give up everything in an instant for one more day with me.’ She drew herself up, her bearing regal but the expression on her face one of pure devastation.

‘If that is your choice, I will not hold you back.’ He could hear the lack of emotion in his tone. In truth, he was hurting more than he had ever hurt before, but he was not sure he would remain in control if he allowed the pain to show.

Amelie’s face crumpled and he went to reach out, to try to claw back his words and the cold way he’d delivered them. She flattened him with a hard stare, and held up a hand, unable to speak. Then she turned and left, her feet clattering on the stairs.

Will collapsed back into his chair, replaying his words over and over in his mind. How could he have been so cruel? He wondered if it was the shock of her decision. Although he had known she was conflicted, he’d thought eventually she would come round to the idea of being his mistress. It was a neat solution, a marriage to a woman who would not make demands of him and Amelie there for the emotional connection.

His harsh words had been a result of the shock he’d felt at her rejection, but it was no excuse. He needed to apologise. He never wanted to hurt her.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to wallow in his pain. It was all he deserved after how he had treated Amelie. Disappointment coursed through him. Although it was a highly unconventional suggestion of Lady Elizabeth’s, Will had been warming to the idea. The thought that he could do his duty, marry the woman who would be the perfect duchess in the eyes of society and still have Amelie, was intoxicating. The benefits would all have been his, but he did not think it would have been completely disastrous for Amelie.

He thought of the wonderful summer they had spent together, the happy days strolling through the meadows, the contentment he had felt for the first time in his adult life. For the first time since he had lost Catherine he had felt completely and utterly comfortable with someone. Having Amelie as his mistress would have meant that could continue. He would have been the perfect duke in the eyes of the world, but in private he would have someone who truly understood him.

Of course, he understood the decision. Amelie was the one who would have to live in secret, to wait for him whilst he conducted his duties with his wife on his arm until he could return to her, hidden away somewhere. He had hoped he might be enough for her, despite the drawbacks, that the companionship and affection they’d shared would overcome her doubts.

Softly he scoffed to himself. He was asking her to risk everything without giving her any real reassurance. Of course she had declined. It didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Now he would give her some time to herself, and later he would apologise fully and talk to her again. At the very least he needed to know what arrangements to make for her. He thought of her kinsfolk in Mrs Hampton’s care, her belongings stashed in the small attic room in his London townhouse. Their lives were intertwined and if she truly wanted to be rid of him it would take some unpicking.

As he finished his cup of coffee, Will wondered if he had made the wrong decision. Duty was important; that had been drummed into him from a young age. He believed it too. He was a mere caretaker of the title and family estates, and he could not put his own desires before the greater good.

Still, he felt uneasy about his decision, as if he was missing an important point. Perhaps it was the heartbreak, clouding things, but a nagging voice told him he was being supremely foolish.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The sky was only just beginning to pale when Amelie slipped silently from the cottage. The air was damp and despite the recent warm days there was a chill to the air. The village was completely silent; no one else had risen as yet, and Amelie was grateful that her departure was unobserved. She felt as though she was stealing away in disgrace, running from the scandal, although she knew she would never truly escape it.

Each step away from the cottage hurt, as though her very soul resisted leaving. She longed for Will to come running after her, to call her back, to tell her he had made a terrible mistake. But the lane behind her remained empty—no sound of boots on gravel, no voice in the dawn mist.

Amelie tried to push thoughts of Will from her mind. She had not spoken to him since their confrontation yesterday morning when he had told her he needed a respectable duchess. He had knocked on her door twice, and asked her to speak to him, but she had remained quiet both times and eventually he had gone away.

The coaching inn was in the centre of the city and it took her forty minutes of brisk walking through the quiet dawn to reach it. By the time she arrived, her resolve had hardened and nothing could have persuaded her to return. The coach was already waiting, a few passengers seated on the bench seats inside, and Amelie pressed her coins into the coachman’s hand before climbing up. She did not look at her fellow passengers, preferring not to be drawn into conversation whilst she waited for the departure of the coach with uneasy anticipation.

The journey to London was long and dull and Amelie found herself dwelling on her last conversation with Will. She wished she could banish it from her mind but every time she tried to think of anything else she could not concentrate and her rebellious mind wandered back to Will.

Through all their time together, Amelie had never felt inferior to Will. Of course she’d cooked for him, straightened the sheets on his bed and washed his clothes. Those were jobs she was paid to do, but whilst they had been close there had not been an imbalance of power between them. He had never once made her feel less important than him, that her feelings were not as valid because he was a duke and she was only a maid.

That was why it had hurt so much when he had told her his duty was to marry someone who would best fulfil the role of duchess. It showed he saw her as inferior, unworthy, and that had hurt more than anything else. Even more than losing him.

Squashed between other passengers, she did not let the tears roll down her cheeks, but felt the deep pang of sorrow bore a hole in her heart. This was a good lesson for her. However much Will had cared for her, he had put his duty to marry a respectable wife above his feelings for her. It was no different from how her ex-fiancé had acted when her father had been carted off to the Fleet. Reputation meant more than affection.

Amelie had to harden her heart. Just now she felt as though her whole world was being shaken underneath her feet, but she was strong and resilient and she would survive this, although she did not doubt it would leave a scar.

Eventually they arrived back in London, but from there it was a long trek to Mrs Hampton’s house. Amelie did not want to waste her money on another carriage so she set out on foot, hoping she would arrive before dark. The walk took her two hours and by the time she saw the pretty front gate of Tranquillity House the sky was growing dark.

Amelie steeled herself as the door opened, expecting reproach, a cool stare, some sort of judgment. Mrs Hampton was a respectable woman, someone who would never get embroiled in such a mess as Amelie was in. But instead of judgment the older woman took one look at her and drew Amelie into her arms, enveloping her in a warm, motherly embrace.

‘My dear girl,’ she said softly, her voice as soothing as her mother’s had been when Amelie was a child. ‘You look worn to the bone. Come in, come in.’

Amelie’s composure cracked. She had thought herself too exhausted for tears, but they came anyway, hot and suddenly. ‘I have made such a mess of things,’ she whispered.

As Mrs Hampton ushered her inside she wondered if Will’s old nanny perhaps hadn’t heard the gossip. The news of their indiscretion had travelled quickly from Cambridge to London, but Tranquillity House was on the outskirts of the city. Perhaps she was so welcoming because she did not know of the mess Amelie had created.

‘My poor child,’ Mrs Hampton said, leading Amelie through to the drawing room. ‘You look as though you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Sit; I will make you a cup of tea, and you can tell me as much or as little as you wish.’

‘The children…’

‘Are asleep for the night. Once you have had something to eat and drink, you can sleep in the spare bedroom. They will be delighted to wake up and find you here in the morning.’