The Duke’s Twin Lust by Lorena Owen
Chapter Twenty
Amelia stared at Mary. The old maid looked as serious as she’d ever been, with worry lines on her forehead and her eyes full of something close to fear.
“What’s wrong, Mary?” Amelia asked, panic shooting up inside her. Had something happened to Ernest or Rebecca?
Mary let out a huge sigh. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but…”
The maid paused again. Amelia felt her panic increase. Had someone started to suspect she was not Lady Gillingham already? Amelia knew she’d made friends with Ernest and even Rebecca, and the maids seemed to like her. Still, that did not mean that she would be safe if someone figured out what was happening.
Finally, Mary said, “I lied.”
“About what?” Amelia asked quickly.
“About Lady Gillingham. The story I told you about her is a farce.”
Amelia squinted at Mary. She could recall Mary’s story of the stable boy and Christiana’s love for him. Mary had sounded so convincing.
“But why would you lie?” Amelia asked, confused.
“I needed to tell you something, but I didn’t know if I could trust you,” Mary said. “You see, you were only a girl Lady Gillingham used to escape her life. I was sure you held nothing in your heart but hatred for the lady. But, as I’ve grown to known you these past few days, I realise I was wrong. A soul like yours would never hold hatred for anyone, even if the person deserves it. And so, I know I can trust you with Lady Gillingham’s secret.”
Amelia stared at the old maid. She could not believe what she was hearing. In the past, she had been vaguely curious about Lady Gillingham’s past, but Amelia had to admit the curiousity was dimming by each day. She no longer cared for Lady Gillingham’s story. Also, she knew Lady Gillingham would not be too pleased to know that Mary was divulging her secrets. So, why did Mary think it was important for Amelia to know?
Amelia looked down at Mary. Mary was looking at her with hope in her eyes, and Amelia hated to squash that hope by telling Mary she was not quite interested in hearing why Lady Gillingham was so mean to these kind people.
And so, she nodded. “Tell me, Mary,” she said.
Mary opened her mouth, but no words came out. She seemed unable to speak out of fear.
Amelia took the maid’s hand. “You don’t need to tell me,” she told the maid. “I don’t need to know.”
“No, Your Grace,” Mary said. “You have to know. I know you think little of Lady Gillingham, and I quite understand that, what with how she treated the duke and his sister. But Lady Gillingham wasn’t always like that, mean and acerbic. She used to be a very sweet girl who loved roses and embroidery.”
Amelia’s eyes widened. Lady Gillingham loved embroidery? She seemed to remember Rebecca saying Lady Gillingham made fun of her embroidery.
“Tell me,” Amelia said. She was quite interested in knowing what had changed Lady Gillingham.
Mary said nothing for a while, merely working on Amelia’s gown. Finally, when Amelia was free of the gown and stood before her in only her chemise, Mary started to speak.
“Lady Gillingham did not grow up in a happy home,” Mary revealed.
“What?” Amelia said. Somehow, she had convinced herself that noblemen and noblewomen grew up happy, surrounded by the most beautiful things life had to offer.
“Yes,” Mary said, looking sadder than Amelia had ever seen her. “She was the only child of her mother, Lady Burlington. Lady Burlington was a very pleasant woman, but she was a rather ill one. After she’d given birth to Lady Gillingham, she was informed by the midwives that birthing another child was akin to wishing death upon herself.”
“She was that ill?” Amelia asked.
Mary nodded. “I do not recall a time in Lady Gillingham’s life where her mother was not sickly and in bed. It was an illness that even the best physicians did not know how to handle. And so, she remained in bed for years after she bore Christiana.”
Amelia felt a twinge of pity for Lady Gillingham. The lady had never really known the love of a mother, and perhaps it was obvious in the way she acted. “And what of her father?” Amelia asked.
Mary looked sadder still. “Lord Burlington was as healthy as a young horse, but I fear he did not care much for Lady Gillingham. He had always wanted a male heir, and it was a source of annoyance to him that his wife birthed a female child. Since his wife could not give birth again, it was not lost on him that he would have to surrender his manor to his younger brother, and he was not pleased about that.”
For the first time, Amelia imagined how Lady Gillingham was as a child. She would have been a tame girl, seeking love as most children did. But, in her case, she never found it, as her mother was too ill and her father did not care about her. Amelia felt her pity grow. She had never thought she would feel sorry for Lady Gillingham, but Mary was proving her wrong.
“Her father would have forced his wife to carry another pregnancy, if not duly warned against that by physicians. And so, he was resentful to both his wife and Christiana. At some point, he probably regretted wedding Lady Burlington. Till the day she left for this manor, Lady Gillingham never heard a kind word from Lord Burlington’s mouth.”
Amelia remembered her father, the kind, docile man he was, teaching her to climb trees or teasing her mother with her. She did not think she would have been the person she now was if her father had been distant because she was a girl.
“I’m sorry,” Amelia said softly.
Mary shook her head, as though to tell her it didn’t matter. “Lady Burlington died when Christiana was five, and Lord Burlington was finally free,” Mary said, a tone of bitterness in her voice. “After his wife’s death, he tolerated Christiana for a short while, and so Christiana almost started to feel like she had a father. That was, until, he married his second wife.”
Amelia raised her brows. She had been expecting that, but still, it took her by surprise.
“The second Lady Burlington was a strapping young lady who produced a boy within a year. And so, Lord Burlington abandoned his first daughter completely, the better to focus on his heir. I still recall Lady Gillingham during her childhood. She was the loveliest young lady I’d ever met.”
Amelia was surprised to hear that. “Do you really mean that?” she asked.
A small smile appeared on Mary’s face when she nodded. “She loved to knit, and her embroidery was the best I ever saw. Quite better than Lady Rebecca, I should say. But as she grew older and saw the love and care her younger brother got for the simple reason of being a boy, she soon abandoned her feminine hobbies. She started to ride and even told the men of the estate to teach her how to hunt.”
Amelia could hardly imagine Lady Gillingham being taught to hunt. She let out a small chuckle of disbelief.
Mary’s smile grew before she continued, “All this did not matter to Lord Burlington, however. Lady Gillingham was a girl, no matter what, and she served no purpose to him whatsoever. And so, when she was nineteen, he arranged her marriage to the duke.”
Amelia’s eyes widened. “Had she even met Ernest before?” she asked.
Mary shook her head.
Amelia felt her pity grow even more. She could still make no excuses for Lady Gillingham’s behaviour, but she now knew why Lady Gillingham had not been ecstatic about coming to a new home. She had never even met her proposed husband, and even though Ernest was the nicest nobleman Amelia had ever met, she could see why Lady Gillingham had not given him a chance.
“Lady Gillingham did not want to marry the duke, of course, but being married off like a broodmare was not the main reason she was opposed to the union,” Mary said.
“Then why?” Amelia asked.
“At that point, Lady Gillingham had fallen in love with someone else.”
Amelia’s jaw dropped. “What?” she asked.
Mary nodded. “During one of her hunts with her father’s men, she met a man named Bruce, a commoner and the owner of a gaming hell. He was quite older than her, of course, but it was the first time Christiana had received positive attention from a man. She was quite taken with him. I rather think she would have fled her father’s estate and run off with him if she’d had the chance.”
This was a little similar to the story Mary had told her, and Amelia now understood where Mary had gotten the inspiration for the fabrication she’d told. “What happened?” she asked.
“Of course, Lady Gillingham did not have any option in the matter. Her father had proclaimed she was marrying the duke, and she had no choice. But, Lady Gillingham did something quite uncharacteristic.”
“What was that?” Amelia asked, extremely curious.
“She went to her father and told him she wanted to marry Bruce. This was quite unlike her, as Christiana had wanted her father’s approval all her life. Marrying the duke without complaint would have won her that, but for once, Christiana put her feelings first and confessed.”
Amelia felt her stomach knot on itself. “I know that would not have gone well,” she said.
“The baron was furious,” Mary said. “Bruce was not only a commoner, but one whose reputation preceded him. Bruce had been married once already, and had been known to spend time with courtseans. It did not matter to the baron that Bruce loved Christiana as deeply as she loved him. He was convinced no offspring of his would ever wed a commoner.”
Amelia was on tenterhooks waiting for the next portion of the story.
Mary let out a sigh before she continued. “And so, Baron Burlington forced his daughter into marrying the duke. She was brought forcibly, and she resisted all the way. At one point, the Lord Burlington ordered the men to bind her hands and feet.”
Amelia felt her stomach twist with pain. The baron sounded like the most awful father she’d ever known.
“Of course, that did not happen,” Mary said quickly. “But she was dragged into the duke’s presence. Christiana fought the men off with her nails and feet and even her teeth, but they were far too strong for her.”
Amelia nodded. She finally understood why Lady Gillingham was the way she was. Amelia did not think she would have any kindness left in her to spare if she was almost bound hand and foot to wed her husband. It did not matter whether the husband was as compassionate as the duke. All she would think about was what she was losing by being with him.
Amelia sighed, her face in her hands. Now that she knew Lady Gillingham’s true story, she felt nothing but pure sympathy for her. Someone like Lady Gillingham had never known love in her life. If she’d found it at the hands of a commoner, who was her father to judge?
But, there was a piece of the story that didn’t make sense, Amelia thought. Judging by what Mary said, there was no love lost between Lord Burlington and Lady Gillingham. Why then would Lady Gillingham spend the week she was apart from the duke visiting her father?
Amelia shook her head. There was only one explanation to that. That Lady Gillingham was not, in fact, with her father.
But then, where was she?
* * *
It had been hours, and Ernest was still no closer to discovering how the fire that had killed two people had started.
He had inspected the premises upon which the fire had occurred, looking for the source. But, no matter how many times he had combed through the cottage with his men, he had found nothing. There had been no dry hay or anything of that sort that could spread fire rapidly in the cottage. There had also been nothing to suggest the couple had been negligent in their duties to take care of their cottage.
Also, judging by the spread, the fire seemed to have come from outside. The couple had not been doing anything untoward with fire, like roasting an animal or burning some dirt. None of the neighbours had been doing anything of that sort, either.
And so, Ernest was left with only one explanation; that someone had deliberately started the fire.
But even that did not make much sense. The couple was well loved, and he knew even Rebecca had been friendly with them. Ernest had sent the stable boys to ask around, and all of them had come back with variations of the same story; that no one had ever had a problem with the Highsmiths, and they were all aggrieved by the loss.
But, the fire had to have been started by someone, Ernest knew. He also knew he was going to do whatever he could to bring that person to heel.
He was alone in his study, pacing around as he thought of possible reasons why two people had just been burned alive. Momentarily, he looked outside the window. The sky was darkening rapidly, the grounds free of people. But, he knew that just minutes ago, Christiana had been with Michael, watching him as he rode a pony for the first time.
Even the thought of her was enough to make his heart grow warm. According to the stable boys, she was brilliant with Michael, patient and kind. She had clapped and screamed with glee as he rode, and under her eyes, the boy had not made a single mistake.
From the maids, Ernest had heard how Christiana had saved the boy by climbing up a tree. He was still shocked as to how she’d done that. He’d had no idea Christiana could even climb a tree, and he was more than a little impressed. It had been her idea to take the boy on as a ward, and Ernest knew she was doing her job as a guardian beautifully.
He could not help thinking of how much better Christiana would be when they had children of their own. She would be a far better mother than Ernest’s own mother, he was sure.
Ernest felt a tingle in his groin as he remembered what had happened at the lake. Yes, she had pulled away at the last minute, but Ernest had seen her eyes smoulder with passion, and was still replaying her moans in his ears. She had wanted him as much as he’d wanted her—as much as he still wanted her—but he could not for the life of him figure out why she always seemed to lose her nerve at the last minute.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, interrupting his thoughts.
“Come in,” he said.
The door opened, and Paul stepped in. He was clutching onto a letter.
“I have this for you, Your Grace,” Paul said.
Ernest took the letter, recalling the issues with the estate’s finances. He still had a mild suspicion that Paul had something to do with the incomprehensible numbers, and he recalled how Christiana had said she would help him figure it out. They had to get started on that soon, he knew.
Paul left, and Ernest tore the letter open, wondering who it was from. Perhaps Christiana wanted to invite him somewhere, he thought, and anticipation rose in his belly.
But it was not Christiana. In fact, Ernest could not tell who it was from, because the letter contained only four words:
“I HAVE YOUR WIFE.”