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Well… not nothing. She had to be honest, at least with herself. There were many things that came to mind when the name of Arthur Pike was mentioned. Dark reputation. Potential arson. Cold. Detached. And yet, there was something about him that she could not quite make out as if there was a part of himself that he kept closed off from the rest of the world for fear of having it mocked and ridiculous and misunderstood just like the rest of him was now.
When the wedding breakfast was finished, she and her new husband saw her family out. They walked them all the way to their carriage. Amelia hugged ger father first. He smiled at her, cupping her face with his rough hands.
“Your mother would have been so proud,” he whispered, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek.
She smiled back then turned to Jane. She almost couldn’t hold back her tears. Quickly, she buried her face in Jane’s neck then managed to take a few deep breaths that soothed her. The thought that she would no longer comb Jane’s hair every evening, during which time they had shared their hopes and dreams, made her incredibly sad. Of course, they would visit each other, but things would not be the same.
Nothing would be the same any longer. Now, Amelia would have her own life. A life that would in front of everyone else be a married life, but in fact, she would be all alone with no one by her side. Her days would be filled with decorating the house, reading, embroidering, and counting the days until she could go and see her sister.
It sounded so sad. Amelia tried not to think about it so grimly. She thought she would be a spinster. Here she was, a married woman. But… married to whom?
She was still smiling at her sister. When she turned to face her husband, she could only see the profile of his face gazing forward. He had one of those Romanesque noses protruding from his face, but somehow, it looked symmetrical on him. The wind ruffled his hair a little, but it only made him appear more like a Greek god, careless of the way he looked because he was not there to fit into the puny standards of mortals. Even his scars seemed to somehow transcend the idea of human beauty, purposefully defying the idea that only something symmetrical, something smooth and flawless could be considered utterly beautiful.
She quickly looked in the direction of the carriage that was leaving the property. Jane looked out of the window and waved one last time. Amelia eagerly waved back as if this mere action might wish her sister back and force her to stay to keep Amelia company.
A few long moments passed, and the carriage was out of sight. She swallowed heavily, not daring to look at Arthur. Strange how she felt so confident to talk to him that morning when she came to lay down the rules. Now that those same rules were about to enforced, she trembled under the weight of them.
“Why don’t we go back inside?” he suggested, offering her his arm.
She hesitated as if touching him might scorch her. Then, she finally acquiesced to his suggestion. They went back inside, and she realized that every single servant in the household had lined up for the official meeting. They were all introduced to her, and she was introduced to them as the lady of the house. They all looked at her inquisitively, stealing glances at her, then when she would look at them, they seemed confused when caught in the act, but they would also smile back. Amelia liked them all. She was particularly eager to speak with the housekeeper, Mrs. Collins, about some redecorations that she wanted to do in the house.
That was what she didn’t expect. The house looked dilapidated. From the outside, she could barely believe that someone dared to live inside. Fortunately, the interior was better than the exterior although that part could also be improved upon. She saw that as her opportunity to keep herself busy and productive. That way, she might even be able to forget that she was forced to marry this man who she would never be able to see as anything other than a cold, moody, grump.
“Mrs. Collins will show you to your chamber,” Arthur said. “If you need me, I shall be in my study.”
He turned around on his heels and disappeared down the corridor. All the other servants dispersed as quickly, all apart from Mrs. Collins who remained behind, offering Amelia a warm and welcoming smile.
“Why don’t you follow me, Your Grace,” Mrs. Collins spoke with a thick Scottish accent.
“Oh, please,” Amelia shook her head. “I don’t wish to be referred to as Your Grace.”
“But you are a duchess now,” Mrs. Collins commented, slightly puzzled by Amelia’s request. “We cannot possibly call you by your name.”
“Lady Amelia will be fine,” Amelia said. “Your Grace is… too much.”
It was indeed too much, but Amelia doubted this sweet woman would understand her plight. In the eyes of the servants, they were probably a happy, newlywed couple, and they could not possibly understand any cause for sadness. Still, Mrs. Collins seemed to be able to read people, and she could immediately tell that Amelia did not wish to discuss this any further.
“Why don’t you follow me to your room, Lady Amelia?” she asked.
Amelia smiled appreciatively. “I would love that, Mrs. Collins.”
Slowly, she found her way through this grand, old mansion, feeling like a ghost, doomed to wander these hallways for the rest of her days.
CHAPTER6
He was a married man now. Him. The Duke of Mosebridge. The most hated man in all of London. He had a wife, even though he had to trick her into marrying him.
He didn’t like to resort to trickery. He considered it below him. But it had become obvious that there would be no other means through which he would be able to procure himself a bride. His reputation in London had been a dark one indeed. He could not understand how or why. Some of the things he had heard about himself were unthinkable. No one who truly knew him would think that he was capable of such things. Drinking to oblivion then insulting a woman to her face by calling her ugly. That was just one of the things he heard about himself; things which, of course, could not have been further from the truth. But that did not seem to matter. So many people had already spread the rumors that they mattered more than the truth did.
He wondered if Lady Amelia heard them. She must have. She was a part of that same society, after all. Fortunately, it was mostly women who spread these rumors, not men. That was how he was certain that he could speak to Amelia’s father man to man, explaining that someone was out to get him and proving himself to be nothing less than a real gentleman. Now that he was married to Lady Amelia, Arthur realized that he wanted her to believe him. He wanted to explain himself to her, but he doubted it would serve any purpose. She already told him how she felt about this arranged marriage. She convinced him that she did not plan to give their union even a chance to blossom into something more.
A part of him actually welcomed this. He had no idea how to court a woman anymore. A long time ago, he was courting Lady Susan Nicholson, the daughter of the Marquess of Harding. Once, he believed that she was the only woman for him. He believed that they would be together forever, but she turned him back on him when he needed understanding and sympathy the most. That taught him never to trust anyone again because people were not who they presented themselves to be. That was why he built walls around himself, not allowing anyone in. He didn’t feel that he needed anyone, not in the sense of companionship at least.
That was what he thought until the moment Lady Amelia laid down her rules. He could understand where all that was coming from. He could understand it, but something urged him not to allow her to push him from herself completely. Hence, his own rule: to have dinner together every evening.
He had no idea what exactly that might do. He wasn’t expecting either of them to fall in love. He was far too bitter to believe that he would ever find love or someone to accept him as he was, warts and all. Lady Amelia was a lovely young lady – too lovely to be forced to marry someone like himself.
He sighed deeply, glancing at the clock in his study. He had spent the entire afternoon there. He knew that Mrs. Collins would have dinner ready at 7 pm sharp as every other day. Arthur was a creature of habit. He found that habits allowed him to focus inward, towards himself, towards the few precious optimistic traits and memories that he had left inside. It made life bearable in a city where he was stuck because his home was there, and he didn’t wish to leave it. He didn’t want to allow them to force him out of the only place that he ever considered his home.
