Page 27 of A Necessary Wife

She raised a brow. “Your children?”

“I meant ours, of course.”

“No, you didn’t,” she whispered. That was another promise he could never keep straight in his head, either.

They stared at each other, but then a woman’s voice intruded.

“For heaven’s sake, Milo, let the woman go and come join me for a vigorous ride across the fields like we used to do. Your father said you might need a friend to talk sense to you about some great secret.”

Amelia glanced right to see a stunningly elegant woman seated sidesaddle on a fine chestnut horse. Her gaze was practically devouring Chatham where he stood, and the look and her words spoke of years of intimacy between them. She even used his first name.

Chatham shook his head. “Another time, Phillipa,” he replied.

And he used hers.

“Oh, come now, surely you can spare a little time for a woman in need,” the lady pleaded, inching her riding gown higher. “My foot is not right in the stirrup. I fear I might slip off my horse at any moment.”

Chatham scowled but took a few steps toward the woman, hand rising to pat her horse, and then he fiddled with her foot in the stirrup. “You should know better.”

“An honest mishap,” she promised. “My usual horse was unavailable.”

Amelia might have been invisible for all the notice the pair gave her presence as they continued their conversation. She wrenched herself away from the scene, heavy-hearted, her spirit battered. The likelihood that Chatham had a past lover at the house party made her feel sick to her stomach.

She’d had such high hope for this marriage, but already she could foresee the cracks turning into chasms. He already did not consult her before he made decisions that affected her life, and he never would unless she took a stand.

Chatham did not call after her again and she did not look back.

Amelia returned to the manor alone, trudged upstairs, and headed directly to his bedchamber. She let herself in and immediately covered her face with her hands to hold in a scream. Two days a bride and already consigned to the background. This was no better than the behavior of her own family. She had not expected much, but she had expected a little better of Chatham.

She crossed the room and sank into the window seat, looking out at the garden but without really seeing it. There was little she could do about him taking a lover. She’d given him permission.

She was not certain how long she’d sat there before a knock came at the door. Amelia ignored it, imagining her husband standing about to demand she accept his decisions, however wrong they were for her.

After a moment, the door creaked open.

Amelia finally turned to look and found the Duchess of Stapleton creeping into the chamber.

The woman rushed over a moment later, whipping out a handkerchief. “My dear, whatever is the matter?”

“Nothing.”

The duchess pushed the handkerchief into Amelia’s hand. “I cannot apologize for my husband enough. Oh, I’m so cross with him I could scream!”

Amelia knew the feeling. She stared at the handkerchief in consternation. “He has said nothing I didn’t expect, Your Grace. The duke has been kind to allow me to stay.” She was always expected to say she was grateful for everything she’d been given, but it burned even worse now.

“Posh, Nicolas has been a beast to you, and to his son. It worries me that you are so pale. Are you unwell?”

Amelia turned her gaze back to the view. “I am well, Your Grace. Please think of me no more.”

The duchess sat at her side and, after a moment, took the handkerchief from her. She pressed it to Amelia’s cheeks, gently blotting under her eyes. Amelia didn’t fight or resist the fussing.

Her Grace drew back a moment later, frowning. “Marriage can be unsettling for a woman at first.”

“How true that is,” Amelia agreed, with a shake of her head.

First, Chatham had to be convinced to bed her, then he would break the promises that mattered to her. “If you don’t mind, I would prefer to be alone.”

“I’d like to stay,” the duchess replied.