Page 52 of Maid for the Duke

‘Through carelessness or callousness?’

‘A little of both. I asked her to accept my marriage to Lady Elizabeth Dreadon and remain as my mistress. She refused and declared her love for me and I told her that I could not marry her—that I had to put my duty first and that she was not a suitable duchess.’

‘Did you drive a knife into her heart at the same time or were you satisfied with wounding her emotionally?’

Will dropped his head, sinking it into his hands. He had been callous. This was the woman he loved and he’d trampled over her emotions when she had laid open her heart, when she’d been at her most vulnerable.

After the scandal of losing her childhood home and her father ending up in debtor’s prison, Amelie had rebuilt her life, ensuring she relied on no one else. Her trust had been broken by her father and her former fiancé, and her life blighted by the shame of falling so far in society. Yet her nature was open and honest, and her instinct had been to trust him. Despite the gulf in their social standing, despite his reserved nature, she had allowed him close, allowed him to see what she felt ashamed of. Then he had cruelly told her she was not worthy to become his wife, that he needed someone better, when in truth there was no one more pure of heart or generous in spirit than Amelie.

‘It was poorly done,’ he admitted.

Mrs Hampton regarded him for a few seconds, letting him sit with the knowledge of what he had done to Amelie.

‘Do you understand why she refused you?’

‘She wanted the possibility of love, true love. Of someone who would love her and not hide her away.’

‘Sensible girl,’ Mrs Hampton murmured. ‘Amelie should not be confined to the shadows. No woman you care about should. Either it is love or it is not.’

‘There are other considerations.’

‘If you mention your duty one more time, William Beescroft, I will scream.’

‘It seemed important. I thought my duty was clear: to my family; to my title; to marry a woman who is above reproach. A duke does not marry the daughter of a man in debtor’s prison.’

‘You are the one who brought scandal to her door.’ There was a pause and then Mrs Hampton leaned forward, her eyes suddenly fierce. ‘And what good is a title, Your Grace, if it leaves you hollow? What good is duty if it slowly kills you? Your sister would not want that for you. I do not want that for you.’

He did not want it either. Running a hand through his hair, he thought of how Amelie had made him feel, of the happiness that had blossomed for the first time this summer. He could not remember a time in this past year he had felt carefree, until Amelie.

He was slowly beginning to realise that was what Catherine had meant when she’d extracted her promise from him to do something just for himself, forgetting duty for a short while. He had taken it literally, taking time away from his normally rigid schedule, but he was starting to see that Catherine had meant it to be more than that. She’d wanted him to step away from his duty so the other joys of life could be allowed space to blossom. It had been her way of making him see there was more to life than the role and responsibilities he had inherited.

Mrs Hampton spoke again, this time her voice returning to its normal calm, smooth tone. ‘Think carefully, Your Grace. Duty is important, but do not mistake stubborn pride for duty. They are not the same thing.’

He closed his eyes briefly, swallowing against the ache in his throat. It was dawning on him that he had made a terrible mistake—ruining his life and Amelie’s in the process.

Will returned to Ashmead House that evening with Mrs Hampton’s words echoing in his mind. The house was quiet, too quiet. Normally he welcomed the silence after a day of obligations, but now it pressed down on him, suffocating, reminding him of everything he had lost, everything he had let slip away.

He poured himself a glass of brandy and stood before the fire in his study. The flames leapt and crackled, casting shadows along the bookshelves. Catherine’s old chair still sat by the hearth, untouched since her death. He had never allowed anyone to move it. Loneliness flooded through him, threatening to overwhelm him.

Do not mistake stubborn pride for duty.

Mrs Hampton’s voice sounded in his mind again. He had thought himself a man of reason, a man who understood his responsibilities. But what if he had mistaken fear for reason? What if the chains he called duty were only of his own forging?

He thought of Amelie—her smile that had undone him so easily, the way she had trusted him even when she’d had every reason not to. He remembered her voice when she’d told him she could not be his secret; her bravery in telling him she loved him and then walking away, holding fast to her convictions.

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a long breath. He had spent a year building walls around his heart after Catherine’s death, convincing himself it was noble to be untouchable. But Mrs Hampton had been right: he was not noble. He was simply lonely. And he had let that loneliness dictate his life.

He set down the glass, untouched, and pressed his palms against the mantelpiece. ‘What would you say to me, Catherine?’ he murmured into the firelight. ‘Would you tell me to hold fast to duty, or to let it go?’

There was no response. The silence stretched out and he had no sense of her. His sister’s voice was quiet in his mind.

Chapter Twenty-Six

It was early morning and the ground was wet with dew. September had always been his favourite month. He loved the crisp mornings and the hint of yellow and orange as the leaves started to turn.

Today he hardly noticed the beauty of the estate. Everything but his mission had faded into the background.

He had buried his sister a little over a year ago, choosing a spot in the magnificent grounds of Ashmead Hall, the ancestral seat of the Dukes of Ashmead. It had been her favourite of their many properties and it gave him a little comfort to think of her spirit roaming free around the grounds, as she had as a child. Her grave lay at the crest of a gentle hill, overlooking the rolling countryside, with the hall far in the background beyond the lake.