My Fair Duchess (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel Book 1) (19 page)

He stood in the hallway and watched her depart, her hips doing that luring gently swaying motion as she went. When her gray skirts fluttered out of sight, he moved to find Harthorne, yet a thought caused him to pause. She was intriguing, and when he was through with her, she would be beguiling. Then she would learn the power she could yield over a man, and her desire for true love would be replaced by the desire for true wealth and status. The thought made his chest tighten, yet oddly enough, the idea of her wedding Worthington did not sit quite right, either.

Amelia awoke the next morning rather late and found the duke had gone into town but had left specific instructions for her to be prepared for her first lesson, which was to be instructions in dancing. Muttering to herself, she crumpled the note he had left for her and tossed it on the stand by the entrance to the door. He could not have picked a weaker accomplishment for her to start with if he had tried. Why it was almost as if―

“Philip!” Amelia screeched.

Within a moment, her brother came strolling down the staircase and bowed to her. “You called?”

“Did you tell the Duke of Aversley of my dancing abilities?”

“He did not,” her mother said from the top of the stairs where she appeared blessedly dressed in a light-green and white striped carriage gown. Her hair was swept off her face in a lovely chignon, the emerald earrings Father had given her twinkled at her ears, and light rouge graced her cheeks. Yet even dressed in finery and having taken obvious efforts with her appearance, the dark circles under her eyes were evident, and as she drew nearer, the tight lines around her mouth were also hard to miss.

Her mother stopped at the foot of the stairs and stared at Amelia. “I told him. He asked me where you needed the most work and I told him dancing, flirting―”

“Mother!” Flames licked Amelia’s cheeks.

“It’s true, dear. I’ve never taught you how, and you just don’t seem to be one of those young ladies who innately knows how to flirt. If you’re going to capture a husband you must learn to flirt.”

Philip coughed discreetly, but his red face gave away his discomfort. “I don’t think I’ll be needed here today. Will I?”

Amelia quickly shook her head. She certainly did not want her brother as an observer while she made a total cake of herself. “Where are you off to?”

Philip settled his hat on his head before answering. “To see the bankers. I’m going to try once more to get an extension on the payment of our debt. The crops look good, and all I need is more time.”

“Do you think you can manage it, Philip?” their mother asked.

The question was perfectly normal and had been on the tip of Amelia’s tongue, as well, but it was the desperate note in her mother’s voice that gave Amelia pause.

“I hope so, Mother,” Philip replied. “Try not to worry.”

Her mother’s shoulders slumped, but she nodded. Amelia said nothing as Philip gave them both a quick hug and departed, but when the door closed, she turned to her mother. “Is there more happening than you are telling me? Or telling Philip? Is there something else we should know?”

Her mother bristled. “Certainly not.”

There was no point in arguing because her mother’s gaze had dropped and she had balled her hands into fists by her side. Whether she was concealing something or not, she was not going to be forthcoming about it. Amelia glanced over her mother’s fine carriage gown. “You are not planning to go out, are you? What if His Grace comes back?”

“Oh dear. I had not thought about that when we let Philip go. Lord Huntington”―her voice cracked on his name―“will be here shortly to collect me.”

Amelia frowned. She didn’t understand what was occurring. This was the second time her mother had allowed the man to take her riding in his carriage, and she had not looked happy about it either time. “Are you sure you want to go? You just saw him yesterday.”

“Yes, of course,” her mother replied in a tired, broken whisper.

A thought occurred to Amelia. “Mother, are you considering allowing the man to court you because you think to save Philip? You don’t have to do that, you know. Philip will win this wager, and everything will be fine.”

Her mother’s face had drained of all its color, and she pressed a hand to her chest. She glanced away and then back at Amelia. “That’s not it at all.” Her voice wavered as she spoke.

“I don’t understand,” Amelia began in slow, faltering words. Her heart squeezed a bit within her chest. She supposed she had thought Mother would love Father forever. It wasn’t fair to expect that, though. She should be happy that her mother was out of bed and dressed so nicely, even if she was going on a carriage ride with another man.

It should not come as such a shock, anyway. Lord Huntington’s visits here had become more frequent with every passing month, but Amelia had not wanted to believe her mother could care for that man. Seems she had been incorrect. “I, well…” She floundered for the right words. “That’s nice if you really do like him, Mother.”

Her mother swallowed audibly. “Never say that, Amelia. Never think it.”

“Now I’m afraid I really don’t understand. If you don’t care for him why are you letting him take you on a carriage ride, and why do you constantly let him call on you?”

“I’m glad you don’t understand, and I pray you never will,” she replied, her features drawing closed.

Amelia frowned. “Do you mean because you hope I never lose my husband?”

She jerked her head in confirmation. “Yes. That’s what I mean.”

What a falsehood. Amelia sucked in her lower lip and fought the urge to question further. “I’m sure if you don’t want to go, Lord Huntington will understand that you cannot leave me here unchaperoned with His Grace.”

“No!” her mother snapped. “I must go when he comes. I must.”

There it was again. That note of desperation. “What would you have us do, then?” Amelia asked carefully, afraid to upset the situation more.

The wild-eyed look her mother gave her did not make her feel one bit better. “The cook can chaperone you.”

“The cook?” Amelia asked blankly. At her mother’s nod, Amelia opened her mouth to protest, but a knock resounded on the front door, and her mother fairly shoved past her.

“That must be Lord Huntington. Go on now, dear. Find the cook and tell her to chaperone you. I’ll be home by nightfall. I’m going to visit Lord Huntington’s sister again, as well.”

Amelia did not move. Something very strange was happening, and she was not about to go anywhere, whether commanded to or not.

At the door, her mother glanced back at her with a worried frown and hissed, “Go, Amelia.”

Amelia shook her head.

The knocking increased, and with one last scowl, Mother opened the door to Lord Huntington.

His gaze passed over Mother with a slight smile then landed on Amelia. Something in the way he insolently studied her made her skin crawl. She took a step backward, preferring distance. She had never liked the man, but now she cared for him less than ever.

He stepped toward Amelia, grasped her hand, and kissed it before she could snatch it away. A rather lecherous smile tugged at his lips. “You look lovely in blue, Lady Amelia. Much lovelier than my daughter. That thing does not have the slightest clue how to dress in colors that suit her, but then again, none do, pathetic woman.”

“Oh, Lord Huntington,” her mother crooned in a high-pitched tone. “How complimentary you are of Amelia.”

Amelia narrowed her eyes. It was so wholly unlike Mother to ignore someone besmirching another, but for Mother to pretend Lord Huntington had not spoken cruelly of his own daughter was astonishing. It was almost as if Mother were afraid to stand up to Lord Huntington. That was ridiculous, though. The man had no power over them.

Amelia set her hands on her hips. “Mother, I’d really like for you to stay.”

“Oh, silly girl,” her mother twittered in a false voice and clutched Lord Huntington’s elbow. “We better get going.” Her mother’s gaze landed on her as she pulled Lord Huntington toward the door. “Make sure to concentrate on your lessons, Amelia.”

Too dumbfounded at the odd scene before her to say anything, Amelia nodded. Within seconds, the door closed and she stood alone and confused in the entranceway.

She had no idea what had just occurred, but she had to somehow solve the mystery. She would talk to Mother again tonight to try to force her to tell her the truth. If that did not work, she would threaten to tell Philip. Maybe that would do the trick. Mother never wanted to burden Philip, since he had so much on his shoulders already. However, this might be one of those instances where Amelia would have no choice but to involve her brother.

It did not take long to find the cook and ensure she would be on hand to chaperone once the duke returned. With nothing more pressing to do, Amelia made her way to the courtyard since it seemed the best place to practice dancing. The weather was perfect today. Not too warm but with a nice burst of sunshine. Though she knew she would not be doing the waltz at the country-dance tomorrow night, she had always dreamed of when she would waltz. She felt rather silly, but she raised her arms to the correct positions, closed her eyes, and began twirling around the cobblestone terrace, humming.

Colin’s chest tightened at the sight of Lady Amelia twirling in the sunshine with her eyes closed and her arms raised in the air. Was she dancing with an imaginary lord? No doubt, it was Worthington. For some inane reason the thought irritated Colin, but the annoyance slid away as he watched her waltz around the terrace. Her unbound hair swayed as she moved, and the slender column of her neck beckoned to be kissed. Devil take it. He desired Lady Amelia, and he had not even recreated her yet.

Behind him, something shifted, and he got a whiff of perfume. Damnation, he cast his gaze over his shoulder, remembering that the new lady’s maid he’d hired in town for Lady Amelia stood behind him. He pressed a finger to his lips to signal Lucy to remain quiet before he turned back and studied Lady Amelia as she danced. Though her movements were somewhat stiff, he could detect a bit of grace. Practice would give her confidence and lend her poise.

Turning, he pointed to a bench at the top of the stairs and waved Lucy toward it. She nodded and moved quietly back up the stairs the way they had just come. Years of practice of moving around his parent’s home so as not to disturb his mother made it easy for Colin to approach Amelia without making a sound. A smile tugged at his lips as he positioned himself to take her in his arms. She twirled left, and he stepped toward her, sliding one hand around her waist and clasping her other hand with his.

Her eyes flew open as her body tensed. Her steps faltered then stopped altogether. When she moved to step away, he held tight and stared into her beguiling blue eyes. “I’m pleased to see you have some skill at dancing.”

She blushed but did not lower her gaze from his. “Were you watching me?”

“I was studying you to see what needed to be worked on.” That was partially true. He had enjoyed watching her―another first when it came to the fairer sex. He had, in the past, only ever taken the time to watch a woman he was planning on seducing or who he knew was attempting to seduce him. What was between him and Amelia was innocent.

She cocked her head. “And did you find there is much I need to learn?”

“A bit. You lack confidence, which effects how you appear. First, you must learn to stand up straight. You slouch as if you are embarrassed of your height. All that hunching over makes you appear inelegant.”

Amelia stood straighter and regarded the hand that still clasped hers. “If you’ll release me, I will go get Cook so she can chaperone us. Mother and Philip are both out.”

He inclined his head toward the bench at the top of the stone staircase. “I went into town to secure you a lady’s maid. She will also act as your chaperone in London for the Season.”

Lady Amelia glanced at Lucy then back at him, her eyes swimming with what appeared to be gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hitching.

Colin’s own heart seemed to fill immeasurably. He did not like it. Not one bit. Making her happy should not have such an influence on him. Allowing someone to affect you meant they could hurt you. “No need to thank me. I did it for myself. If you end up as my wife your reputation needs to be sterling.” That was utter rubbish, but it sounded good. He would will himself to believe it.