Page 48 of A Necessary Wife

“We’ll deal with you later in private,” he warned his brother-in-law, and hooked his arm through Amelia’s to lead her away from an obvious source of embarrassment for her.

He procured a glass of champagne for her on the way, but she did not take a sip immediately. Her body was stiff, and her smile had been replaced by haughtiness. It did not suit the Amelia he had come to know.

He gestured for her to walk with him outside onto the terrace. Once free of the stares of others, she exhaled and hastily set the champagne glass aside untouched. Her hand was shaking badly. “I apologize if I embarrassed you just now.”

“Embarrassed me? No, of course you did not.”

“I will have difficulty facing him again. It was a painful time in my childhood. I was thoroughly humiliated.”

He frowned, confused. He only vaguely remembered his stay at Rafferty’s. He’d gone there on so many occasions that they’d all blurred together. But Amelia had only gone the once and never returned that he could recall. “How much of your hair was stained with ink?”

“Half the length, but…”

He suddenly got a bad feeling. “But?”

“They cut it all—nearly down to my scalp.”

Milo reeled at the savagery. “But that’s ridiculous!”

“I looked like a boy, and I wanted no one to see me without a head covering for years after.” She rubbed her arms. “My little sister loved nothing more than to steal my turban and expose me to pity for my ugly appearance.”

“You could never be ugly,” he promised, but Milo cursed under his breath. Amelia’s hair was beautiful now, and he could not imagine the pain she must have suffered. “I assume your sister was not punished for that, either.”

“No, she wasn’t,” she said, her head lowering. “They were all too busy laughing with her.”

“I had no idea they were so mean to you,” he said, raising her face with gentle fingers. “How could they do that?”

“I’ve spent my entire life wondering why I was not worthy of love, too.”

“But you are,” he promised. Milo reached for his wife and drew her into his arms. Amelia remained stiff and unyielding at first, and he pressed his lips to her hair, hoping to comfort her.

Slowly, her arms rose to return his embrace, and they stood together for several moments in the dark, united in grief and sympathy. It was nice and cozy to be part of a pair again, and Milo began to feel things he should know better not to.

He held her tighter still, aching to take away the humiliation of her past from a callous and cruel family. But even as she softened into his arms, Milo knew he had to let go. Worrying about her was a slippery slope. And dangerous to his promise to keep a distance.

He gently eased Amelia out of his arms. “We must go back inside now and dance together,” he murmured. “There are people we must speak with.”

“I would prefer…”

“You can avoid Rafferty if you want,” he added quickly. “As well as Father. I’ll deal with my family from now on.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

He gestured toward the ballroom and did not offer his arm for their return indoors, but he would have to hold her if they were to dance. Milo walked at her side around the dance floor, waiting for the musicians, utterly aware of how badly he wanted to hold her in his arms again and why it was not a good idea.

When the music began, he went through the motions automatically, noticing they were again perfectly matched despite never having danced together.

Amelia made no comment, her mind clearly elsewhere, and he allowed her the distraction. But as soon as the dance ended, he escorted her back to the duchess and the company of his sisters.

He excused himself from her and found a drink.

“Good evening, brother.”

He spun about to find Samuel at his side, dressed appropriately at last, his long hair tied back in a queue.

Milo thumped his brother’s shoulder, pleased their talk had brought him back to the fold, tonight of all nights. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I wasn’t,” Samuel replied. “But then I considered that your wife could use all the support she could get.”