The Duke’s Twin Lust by Lorena Owen

Chapter Thirteen

It was only midday, and Amelia was already exhausted.

“Are you feeling well, Your Grace?” Maeve, one of the servants in the manor, asked.

Amelia forced a smile on her face. “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

She ignored the looks of surprise exchanged between Maeve and the servant closest to her. Apparently, one other thing the real Lady Gillingham didn’t do was thank her servants for enquiring about her health.

Amelia was getting tired of noting these little things. “So, the ball shall be held during a full moon,” Amelia stated, still feeling a little embarrassed. She had not known balls were regularly held during full moons, and the feeling of mortification when the servants stared at her was still present.

The servants nodded approvingly.

“We will need candles for the room,” Mary said, and Amelia saw Mary glance at her worriedly before she continued. “Wax candles, which will shine brightly.”

The two servants nearest to Amelia exchanged glances again. Amelia felt sweat break out on her forehead. She cleared her throat, wondering what she ought to say next. She had no idea what was needed for a ball, having never been in a position to attend one in all her life. Now, she was saddled with the responsibility of planning one, and she had no idea what to organise.

Suddenly, it came to her. “Flowers,” she said. “We should get some flowers from the garden.”

Mary flashed her a smile, and Amelia felt blissful relief.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Maeve said. “We will do that.”

“We also need a lot of mirrors,” Mary put in.

Amelia nodded, although she had no idea what they would use mirrors for at a ball.

“During the last ball hosted by the duke’s mother, she declared that a retiring room be instituted, as well as a supper room,” Maeve said.

Amelia nodded again, hoping she looked like all of this was not news to her. “We should think of the food, as well. We need to provide the guests with delicious meals, befitting the Duke of Roxburghe,” Amelia said.

The servants nodded. Thankfully, they did not exchange glances again.

“We shall take a tour of the third-floor dressing room tomorrow, girls,” Amelia said, hoping she sounded noble and imperial, much more like a duchess and less like a maid. “We will not start putting in decorations till the date nears. Of course, I will have to discuss it with my lord husband. He has to give the final approval on the date.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the servants mumbled.

Amelia felt relief flow through her body.

“You can leave now,” she said to the servants, and they curtseyed before trooping out of the drawing room.

Amelia heaved a sigh of relief. Turning to Mary, she saw the old maid beaming at her.

“I was horrendous, wasn’t I?” she said in a whisper.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Mary said.

“The servants were looking at me as if I’d grown two heads,” Amelia said.

“They are just not used to the Lady Gillingham being so cordial with them. Lady Gillingham never even responded to their greetings. And now, here you are, nodding and agreeing to their suggestions. I reckon they are still in shock,” Mary said.

Amelia nodded. She wanted to believe that, wanted to believe she had not sounded like a bumbling idiot in front of girls who were supposed to be her servants. “I didn’t know anything, though,” Amelia said.

“You did a good job of pretending to,” Mary replied. “I don’t think the girls suspected anything. Anyhow, it is not unusual for a duchess planning her first ball to not know anything about it. I reckon Lady Gillingham is even more clueless than you are.”

Amelia sighed. “I hope so,” she said. Although it was a long way off, she was already dreading taking a tour of the drawing room with the servants.

“Fear not,” Mary said, as they began to walk back to Lady Gillingham’s chambers. “You are a good duchess. From what I hear from the maids, you are the best duchess they have ever served under.”

Amelia’s brows knotted in disbelief. “I highly doubt that. What about the duke’s mother?”

“From what I hear, Lady Katherine Gillingham was as strict as her husband. She was not quite as rude as Lady Gillingham, of course, but the maids were scared of her. I suppose it is a nice change, having you in charge. It is the first time they’ve never had to live in fear of their ruling lady.”

“How can they tell I’ve changed?” Amelia asked. “I’ve been here less than a week.”

They had reached her chambers, and Mary pushed the door open. Amelia entered the room. The place had only been hers for mere days, but it was beginning to feel like home the way her room back at the inn did not. She sat on the bed, peeling off her gloves.

“Servants talk,” Mary said. “I’m sure word has spread about your good deed.”

“What good deed?” Amelia asked, confused.

“You offered to help a maid carry a bucket of water back to the manor. It is quite unusual, Your Grace.”

Amelia’s eyes widened. That was it? She had not thought of it as anything major when the event occurred. It had been yesterday, after the duke had left her and returned to the manor. Amelia had been wandering around the grounds when she saw a servant who seemed likely to collapse from the weight of the bucket. Even though Lady Gillingham had warned against such behaviour specifically, Amelia did not think she could just watch while a servant collapsed right in front of her. Of course, the servant had stared at her in terror and fled, and Amelia had thought nothing of the incident.

Now, it seemed everyone knew of it.

“Would that make me seem like less of a duchess?” she asked Mary, suddenly worried.

Mary shook her head, smiling. “It would make you seem like a compassionate duchess. Together with the duke, you would exert a reign so kind the people would not dare believe.”

At the mention of the duke, Amelia felt herself starting to blush. She turned away, and for want of things to do, started to pull her gloves back on. Mary had a point, she thought. The duke was kind. His insistence on not increasing rent even at the detriment of the manor was unprecedented.

But, she was not his real wife, Amelia thought to herself, feeling a pang in her chest. Soon Lady Gillingham would replace her at the castle, and the servants would relearn how to cower in terror when she addressed them.

It would do Amelia no good to start to get used to all of this.

“When will you speak to the duke about the ball?” Mary said, cutting through her thoughts.

“I-I don’t know,” Amelia said. She had not seen Ernest since yesterday. Amelia had chosen to eat her dinner the night before and her breakfast this morning in her room. She had been avoiding Rebecca, but Amelia knew she was not quite ready to face the duke after the events of the day before.

Every kiss she shared with him brought Amelia closer to giving into her passion. Anytime she was with the duke, all she could think about was him tearing her clothes off and having his way with her. That was a very bad idea, she knew, and she figured it was best to avoid him until she got the lid on her emotions.

“You might see him at dinnertime,” Mary suggested.

“Yes, I think so,” Amelia replied. She did not think she could skip any more mealtimes without the duke demanding to know what was wrong.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Amelia felt her heart contract—was it the duke?

“Come in,” Mary said.

The door creaked open. It was not the duke. It was a slight lad with red hair and freckles.

“Good day, Your Grace,” the lad said. “My name is Paul.”

Amelia stared at him, remembering him from what the duke had said.

“The steward,” she said.

Paul nodded. “I’m replacing Joel,” he said, as though she did not know.

“I see,” Amelia said. “Why are you here, Paul?”

“I bear an invitation from the duke,” he said, passing over an elegant letter to Mary. With a short bow, he took his leave.

Mary passed the letter over to Amelia. Amelia’s hands trembled slightly as she took it, and she did not know why. She was more than a little eager as she tore the letter open.

It read:

My dearest Christiana,

Would you mind joining me on a ride now?

Signed,

Your husband,

Ernest.

Amelia released the breath she had not realised she’d been holding.

“It’s just riding,” Mary said, looking relieved. “I shall escort you to the stables, Your Grace,” Mary said.

Amelia stared at her. Her own first instinct had been to ignore the letter, probably tell the duke she was too busy planning for the ball.

“You have to go, Your Grace,” Mary said, as though she was reading Amelia’s thoughts. “You are making great progress with the duke. It would be a shame to turn this down.”

Amelia sighed. She supposed Mary was right. She had no wish to hurt the duke by turning down his proposal.

“I will go,” she said. “What do I wear for riding?”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Amelia was heading in the direction of the stables with Mary. She was dressed in one of Lady Gillingham’s riding habits, a blue jacket over a shirt with a matching skirt. It looked almost new.

“Lady Gillingham did not go riding much,” Mary had told Amelia as they dressed her up. “This did not sit well with the duke, as he loves to ride.”

Now, Amelia swallowed as she strolled towards the stables with Mary. She could not say whether she loved to ride or not, as she had barely been on a horse all her life. But, she supposed she could make an effort for Ernest, seeing as this was one of his favourite pastimes.

They reached the stables at last. Amelia waited in front, while Mary went in to fetch one of the stable boys. She came back with a tall, wiry, dark-haired lad.

“Your Grace,” the lad said, bowing.

Amelia stared at him. She had never seen him before.

“His Grace is not here yet,” Mary asked. “Thank you, Pat.”

Amelia shot Mary a look of gratitude. Now she knew the boy’s name.

“We had better wait for the duke, then,” Amelia said.

“We won’t have to wait for long,” Mary said, nodding towards the direction of the manor.

Amelia whipped around. The duke was striding towards them, squinting in the midday sun. He was dressed in riding clothes, and a hat concealed his blond hair from view.

Amelia felt her heart miss a beat. It had only been a few hours since she last saw him, and yet her heart seemed to explode with joy at seeing him once more. Her heart resumed beating rather fast. Amelia did not know why, but she was nervous.

She curtseyed when he got nearer. “Your Grace,” she said.

His eyes twinkled as he looked at her. “My lady,” he said. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Her heart gave a guilty throb as she said smoothly, “No, of course not, Your Grace. I’ve been overseeing preparations for the ball.”

The duke nodded, but he did not seem to believe her. “Bring out the horses, then, Pat,” he called.

Pat bowed and hurried inside. Amelia stared at her feet, aware of the duke’s eyes on her.

“I must leave now, Your Grace,” Mary said, before she walked away.

Amelia’s palms began to sweat. She was now alone with the duke.

She looked away, back towards the stables, waiting for anyone to interrupt the tension that seemed to stretch between them. Through the corner of her eyes, she was aware of the duke coming closer. Her heart seized with anticipation, with anxiety, with fear.

“Christiana,” he suddenly called, and Amelia jumped. She’d had no idea he was so close by.

She turned to him, opening her mouth to speak.

However, before she could say anything, a strangled yell came from inside the stables. Amelia turned towards the sound. She could hear more yells, the thud of something coming closer.

And then, from the stables emerged the largest, darkest horse she’d ever seen, thundering towards them at full speed, followed by a chain of anxious stable boys.

Amelia felt a scream leave her, just at the same moment as the duke crushed her to himself and dove for the floor. Amelia screamed again as she fell, landing on top of the duke, his body cushioning her against the floor. She whipped around. The horse jumped over them and pelted away towards the direction of the gates.

Amelia’s heart was beating rather fast. She was aware of Ernest’s hard mass against her body. It was the first time they had ever been so close together, and she was not prepared for how acutely her body reacted against him. She closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing, which had increased from both the duke’s press against her body and the horse. She was barely aware of Ernest standing up, raising her up with him.

“Your Grace, I am so sorry,” Pat said, moving closer, his words tumbling out in a hurry to get out of his mouth. “We lost control… Boxer is our most violent horse… We didn’t realise…”

Amelia was aware of the other stable boys dishing out excuses as well. But the duke ignored them all. Turning Amelia to face him, he said, “Are you hurt, Christiana? Did anything happen to you?”

Amelia shook her head, still unable to speak. The duke was staring at her in concern, looking at her as though he had just watched the horse barrel into her.

Amelia cleared her throat. The stable boys all fell silent. “Really, I’m fine,” she said.

The duke looked highly relieved. He sighed, and Amelia noticed the drops of sweat on his brow. “Perhaps we should postpone our ride,” he said. “You should get back and rest.”

“I’m fine, Your Grace,” Amelia said. The duke was a compassionate person, really, but Amelia was not used to being fussed over. “We should go riding. Unless, of course, you are scared to be bested by me?”

The stable boys tittered. The duke stared at her, amusement in his eyes.

“Alright then,” he said. “Let’s ride.”