The Duke’s Twin Lust by Lorena Owen
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ernest stared at Paul, a vein pounding in his forehead. “Where are they?” he asked in a tone that was mild enough to conceal his anger.
Ernest saw his steward swallow once, before saying in a low voice, “With Lady Gillingham, Your Grace.”
The vein in Ernest’s forehead was threatening to burst. “Kindly remind me what I told you, Paul, to tell the rest of the household only days ago.”
“I...” Paul started.
“Have you suddenly lost your memories?” Ernest asked. He was not used to speaking to any of the members of his household in this manner, but he had to admit that Paul quite deserved it.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” Paul said, his eyes fixed on the floor. “I’ll get them back as soon as possible.”
Ernest stared as his steward turned around and shuffled out of his study, closing the door behind him.
“God,” Ernest murmured, dropping onto the seat behind him. How was he supposed to make sure the members of his staff enforced his rules when it appeared they were all besotted with Amelia? Now, Paul had gone and given away the manor’s account books to Amelia, when all Ernest wanted to do was to bury his head in the numbers and forget about the situation he had uncovered.
It had been two days since he’d ordered her to be locked up. Ernest had to admit he had thought of little else since then. Apart from wondering about where the real Christiana was, he was also at a loss as to what to do with Amelia. He could not send her to the block, that was for sure. But, if she left the manor and people got wind of the fact that she was an imposter, it was going to be very bad indeed.
Ernest supposed he could leave her locked up till the real Christiana came around and explained why she had asked a commoner to play her. Still, the brunt of the punishment would fall on the commoner, not the lady. Amelia was sure to suffer the consequences, especially as Ernest did not think he could go ahead and punish his wife too gruesomely.
Ernest buried his head in his hands. As though the situation was not complicated already, he also had to factor in his growing feelings for Amelia. For the past two days, he had also been filled with a misery that was quite unconnected to being lied to. No matter how much he tried to deny it, he wanted to see her and make sure she was alright.
Presently, he shoved his feelings away, into the far corner of his mind. As the duke, he could not think of how he felt. Even if he didn’t want to send her to the block, she had to be punished in some way.
The problem was deciding on a suitable punishment.
Just then, the door to his study flew open.
“Who the ruddy hell is—?” Ernest started, before he realised he was looking at Rebecca, who glared at him from the doorway.
“Brother,” Rebecca said with a tight nod. She stormed in, banging the door shut behind her. “We have to talk.”
“What now?” Ernest said wearily. In the past, Rebecca had only stormed into his study when she’d had one fight or another with Christiana. He could not imagine what would have brought her in now.
“I’m here to talk about Amelia,” she said, her eyes flashing.
Ernest’s eyes narrowed. “You knew?” Out of all of the revelations he had heard over the past few days, this one struck him the most. Amelia and Rebecca had still been enemies for the first few days Amelia had spent at the manor. How had Amelia confided in Rebecca before confiding in him?
“She told me only a few days before telling you,” Rebecca said, waving her hand as though the topic was not important.
“And you expect me to let things go, do you?” Ernest said icily. It was not lost on him that even Rebecca, who had nursed the darkest hatred for Christiana, was firmly on Amelia’s side.
“I expect you to use the wisdom I am certain you possess, brother,” Rebecca said, her arms crossed. “I know our father would have ordered Amelia burnt at the stake. But you are not our father.”
Ernest raised his brows. It was strange for Rebecca to use their dead father to defend Amelia. “Not being as unyielding as Father was does not mean I don’t recognise a crime when I see one,” he said tightly.
Rebecca sighed. “Brother, even you must realise that Amelia had nothing to do with this.”
Ernest let out a bark of laughter. “She came into our manor and pretended to be my wife. She wore her dresses and ordered around the maids and almost—”
Ernest cut himself off abruptly. He was about to talk about how Amelia had almost lain with him that day at the lake. However, there were certain details Rebecca didn’t need to know.
Rebecca did not seem to notice his half-completed sentence. “Truly, Ernest. You have to believe me. She is innocent.”
Ernest stared up at her sister. “Because,” she said. “I have proof.”
And before Ernest could say anything else, Rebecca threw open the door, and Mary, Christiana’s maid, shuffled in.
“Your Grace,” she said, curtseying.
“You don’t mean to tell me you also knew of Christiana’s deceit,” Ernest said, feeling his fury starting to grow.
He expected Mary to shrink away just like Paul had, but the old maid stared him right in the face. “Amelia is the best woman I’ve ever come across, Your Grace. Back at the inn, she absolutely refused to have anything to do with Lady Gillingham’s schemes.”
“Ah,” Ernest said. “You mean to inform me that the thought of riches and wealth, albeit for a little while, did not send a lowly chamber maid rushing to do a lady’s bidding?” Apart from being an imposter, Amelia was a decent person, Ernest had to admit. But he did not believe for a moment that she had not participated in Christiana’s deceit willingly.
“I was surprised as well, Your Grace,” Mary said, still meeting his gaze unflinchingly. “Lady Gillingham requested Amelia act as her a million times, and a million times Amelia turned her down. She had no wish for this.”
Ernest raised a brow. “So what? Christiana threatened to behead her if she didn’t go through with her plans?”
He had been joking, but Mary’s face did not waver. “You’re close to the mark, Your Grace. Lady Gillingham framed Amelia. She claimed Amelia stole her ring. She told Amelia to either play her game or be accused of stealing.”
Ernest stared. He could not believe what he was hearing.
He had known his wife was rude, unpleasant, and damn near a pain to be with. But he had not known he was married to someone who could actually threaten an innocent with such a fate to play a sick game. It was unconscionable.
“I can’t believe this,” he muttered.
“And,” Rebecca said, her tone suddenly softer, “even with her less than optimal circumstances, Amelia has done nothing but try to make our lives more comfortable. She took in Michael. She apologised for Christiana’s actions and treated everyone in the manor with simple decency. She does not deserve to be locked up because she was a prop in a mad woman’s game.”
Ernest looked up at Rebecca. He could see her eyes shining with nothing but affection for Amelia. He saw now what he had not seen in a while. Over the past few years, ever since her disappointing seasons where she had not succeeded in making a match, Rebecca had been withdrawn, a shadow of her former self. But Amelia had brought her out of that.
He looked away from the women, staring at the blank wall opposite him. Mary and Rebecca were right, he knew. And not just about Christiana being a mad woman. Apparently, Amelia had done nothing but try to save herself. He could not punish her for that.
“What do you want me to do?” he said, feeling calmer than he had all day.
Mary and Rebecca exchanged glances. And then, Rebecca stepped forward. “The ball is in a few days.”
Ernest had almost forgotten about the damned ball. “What of it?” he asked.
“Grant her permission to attend the ball,” Rebecca said. “The maids already have a lot of gossip material, what with you locking her up in her chambers. If you do not grant her leave to attend the ball, their gossiping will increase, and I assure you that the news will spread. Soon, people will start to realise Amelia is not really your wife.”
Ernest ran his hands through his hair. “I see,” he said through gritted teeth. He had been blinded by his anger for the past few days, and even now that he realised Amelia had not been at fault, he still wasn’t completely cured of his annoyance. But, he had to admit that his sister had spoken wisely.
When he looked up at Rebecca, he saw that she was gazing back at him hopefully. “Will you let her attend the ball?” she asked in a hushed voice.
Ernest rose to his feet. “I have not decided yet,” he said, watching the looks on their faces fall.
Mary and Rebecca exchanged glances again. And this time, it was Mary who spoke.
“How long do you intend to keep her in her chambers, Your Grace?”
Ernest frowned. “As long as I see fit,” he said.
Rebecca stared at him in disbelief. “You just realised that Amelia had nothing to do with this. You have no basis to keep her prisoner, Ernest.”
“I cannot release Amelia until Christiana makes a reappearance,” Ernest said. Christiana was the one that had set this whole situation in motion. Ernest did not think it was right to watch Amelia leave when Christiana had not returned. He still was not sure of how to get hold of Christiana. Now that he knew Bruce was her lover, he did not know whether to drag her back to the manor wailing or wait for her to return on her own terms. But, whatever way he decided, he knew Amelia was not leaving until Christiana was back.
Amelia could serve as a convincing Lady Gillingham till the real one returned. It would be quite shameful for the people to learn that the duke had lost his wife to her lover and was now waiting in vain for her to return. Also, she was still an accomplice to the crime, and he wanted the situation explained to him in its entirety by the two women.
But most of all, even though Ernest would smash his own head into a wall before he admitted it to either of the women, he did not think he wanted Amelia to leave just yet.
He expected Rebecca to argue with him on this point, but thankfully, she merely nodded. “Perhaps you’d like to see her now, brother,” she said.
Ernest raised a brow. “Now I need your advice to tell me when I need to see my prisoner?” he asked. He felt a pang, referring to Amelia as just a prisoner. She was more than that to him. However, he did not know what else to refer to her as. Without the title of duchess, Amelia was nothing to him, only a commoner who had merely played his wife for a little while.
And that hurt Ernest more than he cared to admit.
It seemed as though Rebecca was listening to his thoughts. “Amelia is not just a prisoner, Ernest. You know that as well as I do.”
He turned away, towards the wall behind his chair. Hanging close to the ceiling was a painting of his father. He stared at the man, taking in his rigid jaw. For the first time ever, he felt as though he had disappointed his father. He had failed to notice his wife had played a game on him, and he had gone ahead and developed feelings for this imposter.
He heard Rebecca mutter some words to Mary, and he heard shuffling of feet as Mary left, closing the door behind her. Yet, he did not turn back to Rebecca.
“Back when she confessed this travesty to me, Amelia told me something else,” Rebecca said quietly.
“What did she tell you?” he asked, in a carefully unconcerned voice, although his entire body was tense, waiting for Rebecca’s words.
“She admitted to having feelings for you,” Rebecca said.
Ernest turned around, searching Rebecca’s face for a hint that she was making a jape. But she looked as serious as he’d ever seen her. He felt his heart bubble with an emotion he could not name.
A part of him wanted to run to Amelia, enclose her in his arms and kiss the breath right out of her. But another part of him wanted to stay as far away from her as possible.
Even though she was not the person he had thought she was over the past few days, he had to admit he was still concerned about the fact that she had held her truth secret from him. They had become friends in such a short while, but yet she had been intent on deceiving him till the very end.
Had she planned to swap with his wife without ever telling him she existed? Had she not cared about leaving him with his wife again, watching the friendship he’d shared with her for a while seemingly disappear into nothing?
“A lie,” he said to Rebecca, hating the words as soon as they left his mouth. Still, he could not let himself believe otherwise.
“You know as well as I do that you don’t believe that,” Rebecca said, seemingly reading his mind. “She had no need to tell you the truth. She could have simply made you believe whatever you wanted. Yet, she divulged a secret that was sure to get her killed, had it been any other person. But she trusted you.”
Ernest stared at his sister. He had not thought of it in that way. “You might be right,” he admitted.
“She has been miserable these past two days. And, looking at you, I know you have not fared any better. Go to her,” Rebecca said quietly.
Ernest felt his throat tighten. Even with what had happened, the news that Amelia was hurting made his heart twist with pain. The last thing he wanted was to make her sad.
Rebecca was right, he knew. Perhaps Amelia bore no blame for not telling him the truth any sooner. And, right now, he needed to let go of his hurt pride and see the woman his wife had roped into her game.
“Alright,” he said, hating the flare of hope that burst to life within him. “I’ll go in to see her now.”