The Duke’s Twin Lust by Lorena Owen

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The ballroom looked better than any room Ernest had ever set foot in.

There were candles glittering from candleholders all over the room. The floors, made of wooden floorboards, were so polished that Ernest could examine his teeth in them. The drapes looked to be made of the finest silk he’d ever seen, and he thought that Amelia must have searched the whole manor for drapes as fine as they were. The flowers, plucked from the gardens, were hanging from vases, contributing an exquisite feel to the room. Several gallant paintings, particularly of Ernest’s family, were also on the walls.

Ernest had seen the ballroom made up before, but his mother had never expended effort into making the place look as good as it did that night. She usually left the planning to the maids, not caring whether they remembered to decorate the place or not.

But this time, Amelia seemed to have taken charge of every single detail.

It was even more astounding that she had managed to do all of this in mere days, after Ernest had released her from captivity. He had tried to avoid her for the past few days, but he had still been aware of her ordering the maids to clean the manor, even rooms that the guests would not visit, like his study. And, when every room lay cleaner than Ernest had ever seen, he started to wonder if he was in the right manor after all.

Even more impressive than the state of the manor were the people Amelia had invited. They were the most important families of London, and Ernest was surprised they had deigned to accept the invitation. He had been all over the room for a while now, shaking hands with the men and bowing to the ladies.. Most of the noblemen seemed to have invited their young daughters, presumably to get them a good match, and Ernest could see some young lords eyeing some of the more beautiful ladies.

Ernest looked around to where the members of the small orchestra were seated at the corner of the room, playing a slow, almost sad, tune. It was the duty of the duchess to ask them to pick up the pace of their song, but as Amelia had not yet made an appearance, Ernest strode over to where they were.

“Your Grace,” the conductor said smoothly, bowing. The orchestra was one of the most popular ones in England, and Ernest was further impressed that Amelia had managed to book them as such short notice. He leaned forward, whispering into the ear of the conductor. The man nodded once, said a few words to the other members of the band, and very soon, the Sussex Waltz began to play.

The change in music brought about a visible change in the nobles milling about. While some gentlemen took the hands of their wives and made their way over to the dance floor to begin to dance, the younger men were now making for the young women. Ernest smiled to himself. He quite remembered how he’d had to dance with a dozen women he cared little for during events like this.

Still, the woman he’d married had not been one of those he’d danced with at one of these balls.

At the thought of Christiana, Ernest’s amusement dissipated, replaced by a tinge of irritation. He hated thinking of his wife, particularly on a day when he was quite pleased with the turn of events. But he had no choice. At this moment, his wife was somewhere with her lover, and even though Ernest hated to think of it, he knew he would have to let Amelia go after the ball and go to search for his wife.

The prospect was more unpleasant than he could imagine.

First, Ernest did not think he was quite ready to welcome Christiana back. He could still recall what kind of person she had been, and after his experience with Amelia, he was not certain he could live with her. Also, she had left her marriage to lay with her lover, after hiring a woman to play her. Those were grounds for asking her to leave the manor, but Ernest was not sure he wanted to risk the gossip that would spread around if the ton heard of it.

But, Ernest was certain he never wanted to see Christiana again.

Just then, the doors to the ballroom were thrown open. Ernest turned towards the doors, and from the corner of his eyes, he could see many heads turning too. His breath caught in his throat almost immediately.

It was Amelia.

She looked more beautiful, more ravishing, than he’d ever seen her. She was dressed in a red ballgown. The gown had been embroidered beautifully in the front, and Ernest thought he recognised Rebecca’s handiwork. The gown was cinched at the waist, so it showed off her slim figure, and flared out into a massive pleated skirt that dragged behind her as she walked. Her hair had been manipulated into long blond curls that fell across her shoulders and forehead with a reckless abandon.

Ernest was not quite aware of moving, but he realised he was making his way over to her in a few seconds. He was not the only man, however. The Duke of Luxemberg, Victor Hastings, had left his frail, elderly-looking wife and was now in front of Amelia, bowing and smiling at her in a way that made Ernest’s stomach froth over.

“My dear lady,” Ernest heard him say as he took her hand and brushed a kiss across the back. “That’s quite a way to make an appearance.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Amelia said, curtseying with a smile. To Ernest’s chagrin, she did not look even the slightest bit uncomfortable with the attention. He had to admit she fell into the role of duchess with an overpowering grace, and he thought to himself how much of a better duchess she made than Christiana.

“That’s a beautiful dress,” Lord Hastings said, now raking his gaze all over her body. “The patterns are quite exquisite.”

This time, Amelia gave a tinkling laughter that made the hairs on Ernest’s arms stand on head. “I didn’t think men usually noticed dresses, Your Grace,” she said.

“I always notice when a woman is well-dressed.” He glanced at his wife before turning back to Amelia. “Why, my poor wife barely has time to make an effort. When I—”

At that point, Ernest decided he’d had enough. Stepping in, he cleared his throat loudly.

“Why, it’s the Duke of Roxburghe himself,” Lord Hastings exclaimed, smiling toothily at Ernest. For some reason, he did not deem it fit to let go of Amelia’s hand yet.

Ernest forced a smile. Amelia was not his wife, of course, but he could not deny the pit of jealousy that had flared up within him the moment he saw her with another man.

“I was just telling the lovely duchess how well she looked tonight,” Lord Hastings went on, not the slightest bit abashed. “She is the most stunning woman here, if I dare say so myself.” Turning to Ernest, he asked, “Can I beg the honour of a dance from your lovely wife, Your Grace?”

Ernest felt his upper and lower teeth crush against one another. Taking hold of himself, he said, “The decision is up to my wife, I should think.”

He strongly expected Amelia to decline smoothly, to come up with some explanation as to why she couldn’t dance with him after all. But, Amelia did quite the opposite. Without even turning to Ernest, she said, “The honour is all mine, Your Grace,” before she let the duke take her hand and lead her away.

Ernest watched them through narrowed eyes, his teeth rather painful now. Lord Hastings was a clumsy man on the dance floor, but even his terrible movements did not overshadow Amelia’s grace. She did not know all of the steps, but her movements were quite exquisite. Ernest felt his jealousy burn even hotter.

Even though he hated to admit it, there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to be the man holding her.

“I can see that Amelia has finally found a good match,” a smooth voice said behind him.

Ernest whipped around and was not surprised to see his sister. She had a dress similar to Amelia’s. But, while Amelia’s was red, she had favoured a light-blue gown. She had departed from her usual single braid, and now her hair was done up in curls.

“Sister,” Ernest said, staring at her. “You look quite beautiful.”

Rebecca looked bashful at his compliment. “Thank you, brother,” she said. “Amelia taught me a trick for styling my hair. It seems to have worked, hasn’t it?”

Ernest nodded. His sister did look exceptional tonight. He turned away from her towards the dance floor, and was greeted by the unpleasant sight of Amelia and Lord Hastings.

Rebecca seemed to be watching them as well. “The duke seems quite taken with our dear Amelia,” Rebecca said.

Ernest felt hot air escape through his nostrils. “What took you women so long?” he asked, trying to change the topic.

“Michael,” Rebecca said simply. “Your ward was quite devastated when you locked up Amelia, and now that she is returned, he has barely spent any waking moment out of her presence. Amelia had to sing to put him to bed.”

Ernest felt a twinge of guilt. He had thought little of Michael when he’d ordered Amelia locked up. Now, watching her, he thought he had made quite the mistake in doing that. Apart from the fact that she had been innocent of any wrongdoing, it was obvious how much the manor thrived when she was around to run it.

“You know, any man here would want Amelia. Even after they realise she’s a commoner,” Rebecca said, an evil glint in her eye.

“Perhaps,” Ernest said brusquely. He was not in the mood to discuss Amelia’s prospective suitors.

“Lord Hastings in particular seems eager to stake a claim on another wife tonight. It is no secret his current one is in ill health and that he is on the prowl for another, the cad,” Rebecca continued. “I reckon he would have asked the question if he didn’t think she was already your wife.”

Was Rebecca intentionally trying to rile him? Ernest could not imagine why. But then again, knowing his sister, she was quite capable of that.

He refused to rise to the bait. “Perhaps we should go around and introduce ourselves,” he said, trying to change the topic once more.

“Brother,” Rebecca said suddenly, and, turning around, Ernest saw that the dancers on the floor had now switched partners. Amelia was now dancing with Lord Christopher Dondarrion.

Ernest felt his annoyance grow. Lord Dondarrion, the roguishly handsome Earl of Sussex, was famed for breaking more hearts than any other man in the country. He was the last person Ernest would want his wife to have physical contact with.

But she’s not your wife, he reminded himself for the second time that night, but he found out he didn’t quite care about the specifics.

“Perhaps I was wrong in thinking of Amelia with a tired, old duke like Hastings,” Rebecca murmured. “Lord Dondarrion is so much more handsome.”

Ernest felt his hands ball into fists. “Lord Dondarrion is a rogue,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, but Amelia might be the very thing he needs to calm his wandering heart,” Rebecca said. “And you have to admit that they do make a magnificent couple.”

Ernest glanced at his sister. She had a self-satisfied smirk on her face, and he had to admit her words were hitting the mark.

“Oh, look,” Rebecca said, gesturing towards the pair. “It seems like they are getting along swimmingly.”

Lord Dondarrion was now leaning towards Amelia, whispering something in her ear.

Ernest’s anger came to a full broth. He could not take any more.

Ignoring his sister’s cackle, he started to make his way towards Amelia and Lord Dondarrion.

But, there was absolutely no need to. Because, at that moment, the song ended, and Amelia and Lord Dondarrion started to make their way over themselves.

It was barely seconds before they were standing next to Ernest and Rebecca.

“Your Grace,” Lord Dondarrion said with a bow. “It is a pleasure to see you once more.”

It was a little difficult to pretend to be happy in the presence of the man who only just had his hands around Amelia, but Ernest forced a smile all the same. “And you,” he said.

“This is Lady Rebecca Gillingham, my sister-in-law, and the woman I was telling you about,” Amelia said with a grin, as she gestured to Rebecca.

“My lady,” Lord Dondarrion said with the smoothest of bows. “Your sister-in-law did you no justice. You look even more stunning than you did from afar.”

Ernest was quite amused to see Rebecca’s cheeks flame red. He could not remember the last time he’d seen her this embarrassed.

“T-thank you, my lord,” she muttered.

Lord Dondarrion took her hand, and Ernest thought he saw Rebecca positively shiver with nervousness. It was all he could do to not start to laugh.

“May I share a dance with your sister, Your Grace?” Lord Dondarrion said, now smiling at Ernest.

Ernest nodded quickly, his anger at the lad quickly dissipating. He saw Rebecca shoot him a look of gratitude before she went off with the earl.

When he turned to Amelia, he saw that she had a small smile on her face.

“How did you manage to do that?” he asked, not quite believing what had just happened.

“Do what, Your Grace?” Amelia asked.

“Get Christopher to even look in Rebecca’s direction. He has seen her many times over the years, but has never quite even looked at her.”

Amelia grinned up at him, and Ernest felt his chest suddenly lighten. “I just convinced him she was far better looking than any other woman here. Also, I might have mentioned how much older he was getting and that he needed to get himself a wife sooner rather than later.”

Ernest could not help himself. He laughed, Amelia giggling silently beside him.

“I expect Rebecca will tire us all with stories of her dance with the man,” Ernest remarked. “It has been quite a while since anyone has asked her for a dance at one of these events.”

The mirth on Amelia’s face suddenly crumpled, only to be replaced by a look of sadness. “Poor Rebecca,” she lamented.

Ernest nodded. “It is no matter. I know the men around this room, and the mere fact that Lord Dondarrion danced with her would be enough to ignite some more interest. With any luck, we should be receiving calls from gentlemen soon.”

“I would really like that,” Amelia said in a small voice.

Ernest looked down at her. She seemed to be wishing for it with all of her heart. He thought of Christiana then, how little his wife cared about Rebecca’s spinsterhood, how it would never have occurred to her to even help Rebecca.

“Amelia,” Ernest said, turning squarely to her. “Shall we share a dance, my lady?”