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“The Duke of Mosebridge?” Amelia asked, although the answer was clear as day. What other duke would Jane be talking about?
“Yes,” Jane confirmed Amelia’s suspicions.
“What does it say?” Amelia asked eagerly, frightened of what she might learn but absolutely certain that she needed to know.
“The author of the article claims to know all the truth regarding what happened that night,” Jane explained. “And not only that, but that woman… Lady Susan Nicholson is retelling her version of events, claiming without a doubt that the Duke was the one who caused the fire.”
It took all of Amelia’s conscious effort not to reveal to her sister that Arthur was indeed the one responsible, but it was not in the way everyone thought. He was not the monster they all believed him to be. He was a good, kind soul who made a terrible mistake which he would force himself to pay for the rest of his life. He would provide enough of a punishment for himself. He didn’t need others to do it for him. But she could not say that to Jane, no matter how much she trusted her. She had already betrayed Arthur’s trust by reading his diary. She could not go another step further and do it again.
“I don’t understand,” Amelia scoffed angrily. “Why can’t that woman simply leave him alone? Hasn’t she done enough damage already?”
All Jane managed to do was shrug. She had no idea what else to say.
“She has been doing this for too long,” Amelia continued. She instantly remembered Lady Susan’s behavior at the ball. She did not like it when she wasn’t the center of attention. That much was obvious. The very fact that Arthur had married someone else meant that he had also moved on from that terrible tragedy. It meant that he had moved on fromher.
That had to be it, Amelia thought to herself. No woman liked to be left behind, especially someone like that. This had to be why Lady Susan decided to help publish that horrible article, stirring up all the painful memories again, not wanting to allow Arthur to move on from it all. The thought made Amelia enraged beyond belief.
“You know what?” she suddenly said, stopping in her tracks.
Jane turned to her, surprised. “What?”
Amelia faced her, never more determined in her life than at this moment. “I think I shall go and have a talk with Lady Susan.”
“You?” Jane gasped. “What do you think you shall achieve with it?”
“I don’t know,” Amelia admitted, but she refused to be defeated. “Perhaps nothing. But perhaps, I will be able to help her see that what she is doing isn’t helping anyone, least of all Arthur. If she ever cared about him even in the slightest, she must want him to be happy.”
Jane didn’t sound as convinced. She remained quiet, allowing her sister to do the talking. To be honest, Amelia was trying to convince everyone: Jane, herself, the world. She wanted them all to know, without the shadow of a doubt, that Arthur was not to be blamed. It was a dreadful accident but an accident, nonetheless. He should not be blamed for it by others.
“I shall go and see her tomorrow.” Amelia was adamant.
“Do you think she will want to see you?”
“I don’t see why not,” Amelia shrugged. “I just wish to speak with her. Nothing else.”
“You think that shall make a difference?” Jane still didn’t sound convinced.
“I don’t know… but I have to try,” Amelia confessed.
There were so many other things that she wished to tell Jane. She wanted to tell her how her heart slowly became Arthur’s without her even realizing it. She wanted to tell her that she knew now that Arthur would be the only man for her. There would never be anyone else. She loved him. It was as simple as that. Because she loved him, she wished to see him happy. Lady Susan was hurting him with these articles and lies she was spreading. Amelia had to put a stop to it in any way possible.
Sadness cut through her. She couldn’t imagine how this would make him feel to have his past be dug up again in this manner. Rage seized her again. How selfish could someone be? How careless? Lady Susan had to know what this was doing to Arthur. She had to know, and she still continued to hurt him in this manner. She kept purposefully trying to ruin a man who was already ruined by what happened to him. Lady Susan couldn’t see, just like the rest of the world, that Arthur was a better man than they could ever have imagined. He was simply hiding this part of himself from everyone else because they had already hurt him so much. He couldn’t risk being hurt like that again, and Amelia understood this better than anyone else.
This was a man who kept her safe in his arms throughout the night. This was the man who caressed her and kissed her with such tenderness that it made her shiver with longing the moment she remembered it. It seemed to her that it was a long time ago when she was certain she could never fall in love with a man like him. Then, she fought this feeling with all her might until finally, she could fight it no more. She succumbed to this scarred, hurt man whose wounds were too deep to heal because everyone kept clawing at them.
“But do tell me about yourself, dear Jane,” Amelia said with a cheerful exclamation, wishing to change the subject.
Jane gladly took over, telling her everything about the young gentleman they had met at the last ball, and how she hoped that she would see him again. Amelia loved to see her sister so joyful. She loved to listen to that thrilled voice, just like they did when they were girls.
For two precious hours, everything was perfect. Amelia managed to push to the back of her mind the fact that Arthur, the man she loved with all her heart, was upset with her, and she had no idea if he would ever be able to forgive her. She never wished to hurt him, yet it seemed she did it unintentionally. That changed nothing. In his eyes, she was just like everyone else, picking at his most hurtful places in an effort to dig up the truth which he was so desperate to keep hidden.
Her heart ached for him. It yearned for him. It broke for him because she had no idea if he would ever welcome her in his arms again.
CHAPTER22
Amelia was sitting in the drawing room of Harding Estate. Not in a million years did she think she would ever find herself there and especially not for the circumstances that brought her there. The butler of the estate gave her an odd glance when she said that she had not previously set up appointment with Lady Susan, but she made it known that the matter was of the utmost urgency. Still with that strange look on his face, the butler led her to the drawing room, instructing her to wait there.
So, that was exactly what Amelia was doing, albeit nervously. A part of her felt as if she should not be there, but a greater part assured her that she was exactly where she was supposed to be. It was merely fear, gripping at her, digging its clutches into the tender crevices of her heart, trying to dissuade her from doing what she felt was right.
