Derek

The de Wolfes of Esterley Castle
Book 2

Alexa Aston

Text copyright by the Author.

This work was made possible by special permission through the de Wolfe Pack Connected World publishing program and WolfeBane Publishing, a dba of Dragonblade Publishing. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original World of de Wolfe Pack connected series by Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc. remains the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc., or the affiliates or licensors.

All characters created by the author of this novel remain the copyrighted property of the author.

Additional WolfeBane books by Author, Alexa Aston

The de Wolfes of Esterley Castle

Book 1 – Diana

Book 2 – Derek

Book 3 – Thea

De Wolfe Pack: The Series

Rise of de Wolfe

Dragonblade books by Alexa Aston

King’s Cousins Series

The Pawn

The Heir

The Bastard

Knights of Honor Series

Word of Honor

Marked by Honor

Code of Honor

Journey to Honor

Heart of Honor

Bold in Honor

Love and Honor

Gift of Honor

Path to Honor

Return to Honor

The St. Clairs Series

Devoted to the Duke

Midnight with the Marquess

Embracing the Earl

Chapter One

London—1816

Lady Amelia Ward looked past the newlyweds and stole another glance at Lord Reston, seated two spots away from the groom. The earl was talking with his sister, Thea de Wolfe, his handsome face animated. Amelia quickly looked away, not wanting her brother to realize where she gazed since Colin read people very well.

Amelia needed to keep her infatuation with Derek de Wolfe to herself.

“They look very happy, don’t they,” she said to Colin, hoping to throw him off track as she spoke of their brother and his new bride.

“They do,” he agreed. “Although I’ve just met Diana, she and Oliver seem perfectly suited to one another. The fact that she brings Finn and Mena into the marriage is a bonus. I’ve never seen anyone as good with children as our brother.”

“Oliver is as besotted with the twins as he is his new wife,” she agreed. “They are very sweet children.” She chuckled. “And I’m sure they’ll have siblings before we can blink.”

Colin glanced down the head table of the wedding breakfast, which was being hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Everton. “You say you’ve become close to Lady Thea?”

“Yes. Thea is my best friend. I’ve spent many an afternoon with her since she came to London.”

Catching a brief glimpse of Derek was a perk of her visits with Thea. That’s when she’d become smitten with the new Earl of Reston. He would stop to check on Thea on his way to whatever errand he ran and Amelia had tried hard not to betray her budding feelings for him. Thea had broken her leg just before the Season began and hadn’t been able to make her come-out. Amelia liked that Derek was kind and solicitous toward his sister, just as Oliver was to her. Her older brother had been like a father to Amelia for almost a decade, ever since her father’s death in a riding accident. Oliver had remained her closest friend until Thea de Wolfe came along. Her brother encouraged their friendship, knowing Amelia need feminine companionship. Besides, he’d been taken with Diana de Wolfe, the oldest of the three de Wolfe siblings, from the beginning. Their whirlwind romance had resulted in today’s wedding, the first match of the new Season.

She wished dancing could be part of a wedding breakfast. If so, it might have given her a chance to dance with Derek again, as they had on the opening night of the Season at the Duke and Duchess of Everton’s ball. As it was, the Earl of Reston had escorted his sister to ton events, where he then disappeared into the card room for long stretches. Amelia had only seen him dance that first night. Now that they were family in a way, she hoped she might see more of him socially.

She sighed. What was the use? Even when Derek had looked in on Thea before going to his club or to box or whatever he did, he only gave Amelia a cursory smile and greeting. She wasn’t even sure he remembered her name. Thea had confided to her that Derek proclaimed he had no interest in marrying for several years. As the new Earl of Reston, he wanted to focus his time on learning all he could about managing his estate and making it more profitable, as well as getting to know his tenants. That’s why he didn’t seek a bride from the Marriage Mart. He’d only come to London to help Diana find a husband. Now that she had, Derek de Wolfe might even leave London before the Season ended, taking Thea with him. Then Amelia would truly be despondent.

Oliver and Diana rose. Her brother thanked everyone for attending their wedding and said he and Diana planned to spend the next week at Merrimore, the family’s country estate, before returning for the rest of the Season. People began rising as the couple circulated around the room, trying to visit with all their invited guests before they changed into clothes more suitable for traveling south. Once Diana headed upstairs, Amelia would follow and help her since Thea’s leg was still in a cast and navigating stairs proved impossible.

She made her way to her friend just as Derek stood. He smiled politely at her.

“Hello, Lord Reston,” she said, hoping her voice sounded steady despite the butterflies exploding in her stomach.

A slight frown crossed his face. “That sounds very formal. We are family now. Perhaps you should call me Derek. If you’d like, that is.”

Amelia’s heart fluttered.

“Oh, that’s a splendid idea, Derek,” Thea chimed in. “I have a new sister in Amelia—and two new brothers in Oliver and Colin. I rather like being informal, don’t you, Amelia? I’m sure we’ll spend some of our holidays together. Using first names is much more intimate.”

Oh, it certainly was.

“Then you must call me Amelia,” she told Derek. “Thea has for ages.”

“You two are quite close,” he noted. “Thea’s even asked if she could invite you to visit us at Esterley.”

Amelia sensed her cheeks heating. It would be wonderful to be near Derek for a time but he’d shown no interest in her whatsoever. A prolonged visit might turn into agony on her part.

“Maybe we can arrange that in the future,” she said. “For now, I am committed to finishing the Season here in London.” She paused. “Will you be staying now that your sister has wed?”

The earl shrugged. “I hadn’t made plans beyond the wedding. With Thea laid up, though, there’s no reason to remain in London.”

Thea spoke up. “No, Derek. My plaster will come off soon and then I want to see some of London before we return to Northumberland. It’s my first time here and I’ve been tied to the house because of my broken bone. Besides, I would miss Amelia too much. We can’t leave just yet.”

He gave her an indulgent smile. “All right. I’ll consent to extending our stay. If you’ll excuse me?” He bowed and left them.

Amelia took his seat, forcing herself to concentrate on her friend instead of gazing after Derek like a lovesick puppy. “I can’t wait for you to be up and about. We’ll certainly have some fun together.”

“What about your Season, Amelia?” Thea asked. “You haven’t mentioned anyone special so far.”

She shrugged. “It’s still early, though no one has caught my eye so far.” Amelia hated lying to her closest friend but didn’t know how Thea would react if Amelia told her of her interest in Derek.

“You’ve said several gentlemen have called on you. What about them?”

“None of them interest me. You know I’ve confided in you that I wish to marry for love, Thea. I know not many do so but I look at Oliver and Diana and see how giddy they are. I wish the same bliss for myself.”

Going into the Season, Amelia’s practical nature had been ready to accept an offer if the gentleman was kind and interesting. If he possessed a title and charm, those would be nice additions. The thought of loving someone had never entered her mind. Then Oliver had shared with her that she should truly like the man she would wed since they’d live together for decades. He told her to take her time in choosing her future mate, saying to let it happen naturally and not to force anything. He assured her she had a home with him as long as she wished and that if she didn’t find any man to her liking this Season, there were always future Seasons to come.

Then Amelia had observed how thunderstruck Oliver became, falling deeply in love with Diana. The look in his eyes as he gazed upon Diana—and the one she reserved for him—made Amelia desperately want what the couple had. She determined that while others might wed for a lofty title and wealth, she would follow her heart.

And wed for love alone.

Thea took her hand. “You know, sometimes love can come after marriage. Perhaps if you found someone who made good conversation, he could be a potential candidate.”

Amelia laughed. “Too many men in the ton are not skilled conversationalists. They’re forever commenting on the weather. I’ve gotten a few to tell me about their horses. Thank goodness I’m interested in that topic, for some of them have gone on and on about it until my ears bled.”

“You’ll find the right man, Amelia. I’m certain of it. Go and mingle now with the other wedding guests.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“You don’t have to,” a voice said over her shoulder. She turned and saw Colin.

“I’ll keep Lady Thea company,” Amelia’s brother promised.

“Please, call me Thea. And never Dorothea, my full name, which I abhor. We’ve decided as family we should use our Christian names.”

Amelia rose and Colin took her seat. “I like it, Thea. I’m sure we’ll be thrown together many times over the coming years.”

“Tell me about Oxford and your studies,” Thea said. “Amelia tells me you’re reading history.”

She took that as her cue to leave. Amelia circulated through the room, talking with various guests. She noticed Diana leaving to head upstairs and excused herself so she could help her new sister-in-law prepare for the upcoming journey to Merrimore.

As she left the room, she headed across the foyer and then remembered Diana had asked her to fetch a book she’d left in the library so she could pack it in her belongings. Amelia made her way to the library, where the door was already open. Just before she entered, she heard a familiar, deep voice inside the room and paused.

“It’s fine with me, Shelton. I’m surprised you even thought to ask.”

“You’re sure you aren’t interested in Lady Amelia?”

“Not in the least,” Derek de Wolfe said.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked rapidly. Eavesdroppers rarely heard good of themselves. She should walk away.

And found she couldn’t.

“Well, I think she’s a very beautiful woman,” the man called Shelton continued.

“She may be but she seems empty-headed to me. Oh, she’s been a marvelous friend to Thea—don’t get me wrong—but I don’t know if I’ve ever heard her speak of anything beyond fashion and the ton events she’s attended. She seems a bit immature to me,” Derek concluded. “Besides, she will be as a sister to me now. You know my feelings, Shelton. I’ve no plans to settle down for a good half-dozen years or more. Esterley needs my attention. I don’t need a wife to pull me away from what should be tended to with love and care.”

“Then I’ve your permission to pursue an acquaintance with Lady Amelia?” Shelton asked.

“You don’t need my permission. Dance with the chit and see for yourself if you’re interested in her.”

Crushed, Amelia turned and hurried away, racing up the stairs and fleeing to the bedchamber where Diana was getting ready. She wiped at her eyes and determined to hide her unhappiness as she helped her new sister-in-law.

Entering the room, she said brightly, “What can I do?”

Diana turned and held out her hands. Amelia came and took them, tears welling in her eyes again.

As they spilled over, she said, “Forgive me. I’m just so happy for you and Oliver. You are perfect together.”

“He is rather perfect in every way,” Diana agreed. “Every day is better than the one before. And the twins adore him.”

“Remember, they can stay in London. You don’t have to take them with you.”

“Oliver insists they accompany us. Their governess is also coming so we can spend some time alone.”

The lady’s maid and Amelia helped Diana from her dress and into another. The maid left, telling them she would have the dress pressed and returned to the Merrifield London townhome. As she left, Oliver ducked his head into the room and then slipped inside.

Diana grinned as he came toward them. “What are you doing here?”

Her new husband took her into his arms. “I’ve just spent the longest quarter-hour of my life being away from you.”

He gave her a lingering kiss, which Amelia was used to seeing ever since their engagement. She was happy for them but the sight cut her to her core.

Why couldn’t she have that?

Determination filled her. She would find someone to love, a man who’d hopefully love her in return. She would forget about being enamored with Derek de Wolfe. He might be the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes upon but there were dozens of unmarried men among the ton who were looking for a wife. She would find one that was handsome and intelligent and considerate. One who wanted to kiss her the way Oliver did Diana. She would wed and bring her new husband to family gatherings and hope Derek de Wolfe would then see what he’d missed out on and regret having tossed her aside without ever having gotten to know her.

Amelia slipped from the room as the lovers continued to kiss. She would seek out this Lord Shelton who was so eager to pursue her and see if he might be the one for her.

Most importantly, she would stop thinking about Derek de Wolfe.

If only that were possible . . .

Chapter Two

Amelia entered the ballroom on Colin’s arm, glancing across the space for no one in particular.

Or so she told herself.

“Thank you for escorting me this evening,” she said. “I appreciate you delaying your return to Oxford in order to do so.”

“It’s my pleasure, little sister,” he replied. “I suppose Oliver and Diana have reached Merrimore by now and the twins have already run them ragged.”

“He told me he was going to show them how to fish while they were there.”

“At our pond? They’ll have ever so much fun. Merrimore is a place they’ll be able to roam about freely. Thea shared with me a little of Diana’s background.”

Amelia nodded. “She raised the twins herself after her father demanded she leave Esterley Castle because she was unwed and refused to name the father. She kept a roof over their heads but they lacked in creature comforts.”

“Well, we both know Oliver will spoil those children rotten. Or I shouldn’t say that,” Colin amended. “He did a remarkable job raising us. It wasn’t spoiling as much as giving us plenty of love and attention and supporting us in everything we did. I’m sure he’ll raise the twins and his own children the same way, while lavishing love upon Diana as well.”

Colin led her around the ballroom and allowed her to introduce him to some of her new acquaintances from the Season, telling them he’d only come to town for their brother’s wedding this morning and would be leaving tomorrow to return to his studies at Oxford.

Suddenly, Amelia’s neck prickled and she turned, finding Derek de Wolfe at her elbow.

“Good evening, Amelia, Colin,” he said in that lovely, rich voice of his that seemed to blanket her in warmth.

She couldn’t help but admire his fine looks. His hair was slightly longer than was fashionable, all thick and wavy and dark as night. His strong jawline and high cheekbones appealed to her as well, but it was Derek’s eyes, a mixture of hazel and gold that Thea had told her was a de Wolfe family trait, that mesmerized Amelia.

“Good evening, Derek,” she managed, her voice even though her heart raced.

He indicated his companion. “May I introduce to you Viscount Shelton? We went to school together.”

So this was the Shelton who thought her beautiful. The viscount took her hand, his dark brown eyes glowing at her with appreciation.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Amelia.”

“Shelton here wants a dance with you,” Derek said.

Her gaze connected with his. “And what of you, my lord? Do you also wish for a dance?”

For a brief moment, the earl hesitated and then said, “I’m not interested in dancing. I’ll leave that to you. If you’ll excuse me?”

“Certainly.” She watched him walk away and swallowed then lifted her programme to Lord Shelton. “Choose whichever dance you’d like, my lord,” she encouraged.

“May I have two?” he asked.

“Why not?” she said agreeably.

He signed her card twice and excused himself. Soon, the orchestra struck up their first song and Amelia focused on each new partner, forcing any thought of Derek from her mind. Already, she’d eliminated Lord Shelton from becoming her future husband. While polite and a moderately good dancer, he barely could put two sentences together. She couldn’t decide if he was merely stupid or painfully shy. Either way, the viscount wasn’t for her.

She left the dance floor with her latest partner and stopped to consult her dance card to see whom she danced with next. As she started to lift the card, it came away from the ribbon attached to it and fell to the floor. Amelia knelt to retrieve it but a man stepped on it, his back to her.

“Excuse me,” she said, tugging on the card.

He turned and she saw it was the very handsome Marquess of Trumbull, a notorious rake she’d been told to avoid by numerous people. His lips twitched in amusement as he wheeled and joined her, squatting beside her as he retrieved her programme.

“Where have you been hiding?” he asked, his tone flirtatious as his fingers latched on to her elbow and he brought them to their feet. His sky blue eyes looked at her in amusement.

Feeling reckless—and knowing she had his attention—Amelia replied, “Why, under your nose, my lord,” her lashes batting coquettishly.

His fingers remained on her arm as he said in a low voice, “You have a very smart mouth on you. I’d like to see what I could do with it.”

Amelia couldn’t believe his outrageous words. Her breath caught as she stared at him, but she could see he was intrigued with her. At least for the moment. Then she glanced over his shoulder and saw Derek staring at them, his eyes narrowing in disapproval. She looked back to the marquess and snatched her programme from his hand.

“Thank you, my lord, but I’ll take this.”

Trumbull’s fingers closed on the card and tugged. Amelia didn’t give it up. She saw interest spark in his eyes.

“I’d like to ask you for a slot on your dance card, my lady—and ask your name since we haven’t been properly introduced.”

“I’m Lady Amelia Ward, sister to the Earl of Merrifield. Unfortunately, I have no vacancies available. Perhaps another time, Lord Trumbull.”

His fingers tightened on her elbow a moment and then he released her. His other hand jerked the programme from hers and he tore it in two several times before letting the pieces fall to the floor.

Shock filled her and then the thrill of the moment replaced it.

“I’m captivated by you, Lady Amelia,” the marquess said, his smile showing white, even teeth. “Come. Dance with me.”

Placing her arm on his, he led her to the center of the ballroom and caught her up in his arms as the music started up. The air rushed by as he twirled Amelia enough times to make her dizzy then held on to her so she wouldn’t fall.

“We should slow down,” she managed to gasp.

“Oh, I’m not much for slow,” he drawled. “I like fast music. Fast horses.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Fast women.”

She stopped, knowing this was too dangerous a game to play with a known rake. Frowning, she said, “I’d like to leave the dance floor.”

“I’m sorry, pet,” he said lightly. “I took my banter too far.”

Trumbull’s arms held her close and urged her back into the dance. Amelia danced without speaking and the song finally came to its conclusion. He leaned close and murmured into her ear, “Forgive me,” sending an interesting tingle rippling through her. She pulled back and nodded.

The marquess released her but tucked her arm possessively into the crook of his arm. Instead of returning her where he’d come upon her, he led Amelia toward the supper rooms. She hadn’t realized it was the supper dance.

“Come and meet my friends,” Trumbull said in honeyed tones. “I think you’ll be amused by them.”

They reached a table filled with couples laughing heartily. She only knew a few by reputation and none personally. It was a fast set, one which she didn’t think she’d ever be comfortable being a part of. Then she saw Derek looking her way, disapproval on his face. That decided her. He’d missed out on his chance with her, calling her immature, when he hadn’t truly spent any time in her company. Yes, she’d spoken often of fashion and ton events, but that’s what Thea had asked her to talk about. Her friend was saddened by not being able to make her come-out and pestered Amelia to reveal even the smallest details about every function she attended.

Amelia didn’t care what Derek de Wolfe thought of her now. She would sup with these people and enjoy herself. If he was jealous? So be it.

As she ate, the witty comments flowed quickly back and forth. Sometimes, the way something was said told her there was an innuendo that went over her head. She tried not to look perplexed or ask any questions, not wanting to appear foolish.

Trumbull fed her a pastry, his fingers grazing her lips. Amelia hid her discomfort and chewed quietly.

He took a finger and wiped it slowly along her bottom lip, causing her alarm. Before she could protest, he said, “There. You had some cream on your mouth.”

He took the same finger and slipped it inside his mouth, pulling it slowly out and then showing her it was clean. “I’d rather have licked it from your lips, Lady Amelia. Did you know what soft, pouty lips you possess?”

Her face flamed with his words and he chuckled. “You are quite the innocent. I like that.”

She rose and he followed suit. “If you’ll excuse me, I must visit the retiring room.”

His gaze held hers a long moment before he said, “Don’t be gone long, pet.”

Amelia left the raucous table and headed quickly to the retiring room. She relieved herself and washed her hands and then splashed water on her face, trying to cool down. She patted it dry, wondering if her plan of making Derek de Wolfe jealous had at least worked. She hadn’t known where he sat during supper, afraid to pull her attention away from her companions, lest they tease her.

She emerged from the room and found Derek pacing outside the door.

“There you are.” He came toward her and her heart threatened to pound from her chest.

“Did you wish to speak with me?” she asked haughtily.

“I do.”

Taking her arm, he led her to the foyer, which was empty. For a moment, relief swept through Amelia. The night had been full of too many people and too many conversations. To have a few blessed moments of quiet alone with Derek was most welcome.

Until he frowned at her.

“Merrifield isn’t here, Amelia, and so I believe I must be the one to look after you as a brother might.”

His words riled her. “I don’t want you to act as a brother to me,” she said angrily, not caring that she revealed the true way she felt about it.

Unfortunately, he took her words in an entirely different way.

“I know you have two brothers who usually care for you and that you think I’m merely meddling in your affairs tonight, Amelia, but you need to keep your distance from Lord Trumbull and his entire set. Many of the women have questionable reputations and all of the men are known for their depravity and loose morals. You don’t want to get mixed up with that kind.”

Her face flushed with embarrassment. “I don’t need you to lecture me. I’m a grown woman and can make my own decisions regarding whom I dance with and whose table I sit at.”

“Merrifield wouldn’t approve—”

“Oliver isn’t here,” she said flatly. “I am. He raised me to think for myself. I know what I’m doing, Lord Reston. I’m old enough to choose my own friends without any advice from you. At least these people talk to me. You usually ignore me and now talk down to me, as if I were a child.”

Amelia removed his arm from hers and glared at him. “I know what you think of me. I overheard you tell Lord Shelton that I was immature and empty-headed. It’s far from the truth, but you’ve never taken the time to get to know me. It’s too late for that now. I thank you for your concern but I wish to pass. I have more dancing to do. Unlike you.”

With that, Amelia stormed back into the ballroom.

Chapter Three

Derek watched Amelia leave in a huff, her beautiful face flushed with color, her hips swaying as she left him standing speechless.

It mortified him that she’d eavesdropped on his conversation with Shelton. If she’d only stayed a moment longer, he would have apologized for any pain he’d caused her. Likely, she wouldn’t have listened, though. Derek had hurt her deeply with words she was never meant to hear.

Words that were nowhere near the truth.

It didn’t matter what she’d said to him. He would keep a watchful eye on her—and not because he was feeling brotherly. Far from it. Derek had been smitten with Amelia Ward from the moment he’d first seen her head bent close to Thea’s, whispering as two conspirators. He longed to run his fingers through her long, blond hair. Gaze into her penetrating blue eyes until he lost all rational thought. Nibble on her full, bottom lip. He thought her far from immature. The few times he’d been around her, he’d realized she was intelligent and spirited. And very beautiful. One of those women who would keep growing into her beauty until late in life.

Unfortunately, he’d be around to see that unfold as they’d be inevitably thrown together through the coming decades. Not only was Amelia a friend of one of his sisters but his other sister had wed Amelia’s brother. It was as if they were related now, which made his interest in her slightly awkward. But what truly kept him from even thinking about pursuing her was when he’d overheard Amelia and Thea talking about love. Amelia enthusiastically wanted to find a husband she could love.

Derek didn’t think love existed.

His parents’ marriage had been a nightmare. His domineering father frightened everyone, including his very shy wife. Derek couldn’t remember a single time his mother had stood up to Rafe de Wolfe. His father had countless mistresses stashed away in every village within twenty miles of Esterley Castle. Who knew how many bastards his father had sired?

The ton wasn’t in favor of love matches. They happened upon occasion but often turned out to be messy. He hoped Diana and Merrifield would prove an exception. Looking at them, Derek could almost believe, for a moment, that love existed. The way Merrifield gazed at his new wife with a mixture of lust and protectiveness startled Derek. He’d caught the couple kissing on several occasions, fascinated by how passionate they seemed. As if true love might really exist.

It didn’t matter. He satisfied himself with available women. During his years at Oxford, he’d had an arrangement with a widow close to thirty. She’d taught him much about lovemaking, which he’d put to good use with two different women residing in the village nearest Esterley. In London, he’d visited a few bawdy houses, adding to his knowledge. No matter how many partners he’d had, love never entered the mix. It wouldn’t when he finally chose a wife, either. When the time was right, he’d select a suitable bride on the Marriage Mart, one who would run his household efficiently and give him a good number of children. He’d be respectful toward her and wish for the same in return. Love wouldn’t play a part of their lives. Derek didn’t like complications—and that’s all he saw love could be.

Especially if Amelia Ward were involved.

That’s why he’d approved of Shelton’s interest in his new sister-in-law. Shelton came from a solid background. He was reliable and intelligent and would make for a good husband. If Amelia would show some interest in him. Derek had watched the pair dance earlier in the evening and saw the reserved Shelton behaving in his usual manner. He might have been fascinated by Amelia but he certainly didn’t know how to show it. Derek saw the moment she lost interest in him. She’d quit trying to engage him in conversation and gazed across the ballroom in boredom.

Instead, she’d drawn the attention of Trumbull, a man wholly unsuited for marriage. The marquess had bedded countless women of the ton, married or not, and if the rumors were true—even a few men. Trumbull was the last man Derek would want interested in Amelia. Naturally, in her rebellious mood and with Merrifield absent, she’d been drawn to the marquess.

He wondered if he should speak to Colin Ward about the matter. The middle Ward sibling had spent most of his evening in the card room and would be returning to university tomorrow. Derek decided to keep quiet and wait. If need be, he would contact Merrifield upon his return and have him shut down any prospective relationship between Amelia and Trumbull.

Returning to the ballroom, Derek lingered in the shadows with a cup of punch, watching as Trumbull danced with Amelia again. She looked a bit uncomfortable in his arms and he wished her common sense would warn her away from the marquess. The man had ripped up her dance card, shocking many. Derek had thought it a joke, but if Trumbull continued to keep Amelia as his partner for what remained of the evening, the ton’s tongues would wag incessantly, damaging her reputation beyond repair.

The dance completed, Trumbull led her toward a set of doors that opened onto the balcony. Derek decided to follow them outside. He turned to his right and quickly descended a set of stone stairs, coming back around in the direction he’d seen Trumbull leading them. The night was still and it was easy to hear their conversation. He seethed, knowing the marquess’ reputation and how the man was leading Amelia on as he flirted shamelessly with her.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Derek cringed at her question but made ready to rush to her aid nonetheless.

“I should,” Trumbull said, chuckling. “Have you been kissed before, Lady Amelia?”

“No. I’m curious about it. I gather you have quite a bit of experience in this area. I could stand to be more informed.”

“Then you’ll have to wait, pet. Our first kiss will be at the altar—once you bear my name.”

“You haven’t asked me to marry you, Trumbull,” she pointed out.

“If I did, what would you say?” he mused.

Derek waited, his heart pounding, the blood rushing to his ears.

Say no, Amelia. Say no. Please say no.

“Ask and you’ll find out.”

“Lady Amelia, will you marry me?”

A long pause gave Derek hope and then she said, “I need to know you better, Trumbull. Court me.”

“Court you?” Trumbull laughed heartily.

Derek imagined the smug smile on his face and wanted to punch the marquess until his knuckles bled.

“All right,” Trumbull agreed. “For one week. Then I will ask you again. Let’s return inside.”

“To dance?” Amelia asked coyly. “I believe courting involves dancing.”

“As you wish.”

Derek waited several minutes, trying to rein in his emotions. He’d known Trumbull from Eton. Though the marquess was three years older, he’d bullied nearly every boy in Derek’s class and then charmed his way out of trouble. Trumbull wasn’t good enough for Amelia.

But Derek had no say in the matter.

Unless he told Merrifield immediately. Should he interrupt his sister’s honeymoon? Diana would never forgive him. She’d led an extremely difficult life, thanks to their father exiling her from Esterley when she turned up with child. With their father’s death, Derek had assumed the title and wanted Diana to be happy, bringing her to London to find her a husband. Rumors about her past had flown about as the Season had begun. Merrifield had been the one man interested in Diana from the start, ignoring the rampant gossip. He’d proven both his love and devotion. Derek couldn’t infringe on the first happiness she’d had in years, not after all she’d been through. Merrifield loved Diana’s twins already as if they were his own. He was the one who’d insisted Finn and Mena accompany them to Merrimore. It would be wrong for Derek to show up and put a stop to their idyllic week away.

The newlyweds would return to London in one week. From Trumbull’s words, he would ask Amelia for her hand again after that same span of time. Derek would bide his time and call on Merrifield once they arrived.

He only hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

The past week had been a whirlwind of activities. Trumbull called on Amelia each afternoon, where every day another of Oliver’s friends suddenly showed up for tea, acting as chaperones. The marquess had taken her riding in the park in his barouche, drawn by the finest pair of horses she’d ever seen. They’d attended the opera and theatre with several of his friends. Everywhere she accompanied him, much laughter and gossip occurred, with references and jokes known only to his group, making her feel like an outsider. Amelia tried to banish her insecurities, especially since Trumbull had been so attentive, paying her numerous compliments and focusing on her as he ignored all others.

His attention made her even more popular at the three balls she’d attended in the last several days. Men flocked to her, many who hadn’t even noticed her before. Having so much attention was exciting though, at times, Amelia felt as if the events unfolding were like a team of horses out of control which couldn’t be stopped.

What impinged upon her happiness was the fact that she wanted to make Derek de Wolfe jealous more than she enjoyed Lord Trumbull’s company, which was absolutely foolish. Trumbull was the catch of the Season, a marquess destined to be a duke, and a man with looks and power and wealth. If he asked her to marry him—as he’d promised he would—Amelia doubted she could refuse him.

She ventured to the drawing room and picked up some embroidery that she’d left days ago, trying to concentrate on the intricate design and failing miserably. Their butler interrupted, letting her know that Lord Trumbull had come to call.

“Show him in,” she said, a little worried that it was an hour before teatime and too early for any of Oliver’s friends to have arrived. She shouldn’t have agreed to see Trumbull in the house without a chaperone but it wouldn’t have been the first rule of Polite Society that she’d broken this week. In a way, it increased the excitement of his chase of her, seeing him alone in this forbidden way. He made her feel like breaking the rules since he was well known for doing so himself.

He still hadn’t kissed her, though. Could she agree to wed a man she’d never kissed? When she’d gone to see Thea and told her of the situation, Thea thought Amelia should insist on a kiss before deciding anything, saying it was all Diana and Oliver seemed to do. She stressed that Amelia must discover if she was compatible with the marquess in this way before she could agree to wed him.

Trumbull breezed in, interrupting her thoughts, his killer smile in place.

“You know what today is?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Tuesday,” she said innocently. But she knew exactly what he meant. It was the day they’d first spoken a week ago.

“Would you care to be my wife?” he asked casually, taking her hands in his.

It bothered her that he gave no declaration of love. Of course, she couldn’t expect one after a week. Amelia certainly didn’t love him. Few engaged couples in the ton did. Yet part of her hesitated, knowing her girlish wish to wed for love, despite her sensible nature. She thought of Oliver and Diana’s happiness when they gazed at one another and doubted she’d ever have that with Trumbull—or any man. Looking into Trumbull’s inquiring eyes, she decided she should behave logically. Derek de Wolfe would never be interested in her the way she was in him. Here was a bird in the hand, a very charming one. She would be a marchioness upon their wedding and someday a duchess. This handsome man whose hands held hers could give her everything a woman in society wished for.

Still, she asked, “Do you care if I become your wife?”

“I do,” he said solemnly. “I shall be a duke someday. You’d make for an impeccable duchess. You have beauty and poise. You’re well-spoken and thoughtful. You’d never want for anything material, Amelia.”

It was the first time he’d used her Christian name and it sounded right on his lips. Perhaps he did care for her in his own way.

He added, “My father will be delighted with my choice.”

“Are you close to him?” she asked.

Amelia knew who the Duke of Durham was because he’d been present at a few of the events this Season, an imposing man and a more than a bit of a snob.

“Not particularly,” he said, a shadow crossing his face.

“Oh. I . . . I am very close to my two brothers.”

“Then they will always be people you can turn to if things become difficult.”

His cryptic words caused her to hesitate. “Difficult? What do you mean? Wouldn’t I turn to my husband in a time of trouble?”

Trumbull released one of her hands and brought it to stroke her cheek. “I only meant I would never keep you from them. I’d expect you to share the good and bad with them. Whatever life brings.”

Amelia supposed he meant things such as births and deaths, necessary parts of life. At least he let her know in advance that Oliver and Colin would always be welcome.

With that in mind, she firmly said, “Yes. My answer is yes.” Hovering in the back of her mind was the fact that she still hadn’t kissed him. Thea would be disappointed Amelia hadn’t pressed the issue before accepting Trumbull.

“When does your brother return to London with his new wife?”

“Oliver and Diana are scheduled to arrive late tomorrow afternoon.”

“Then I will call on Merrifield the following morning. Say eleven o’clock? Please let him know.”

“Will you be at the ball tonight?”

He shook his head. “I have business on my estate in Essex I must attend to. I’m leaving now and will be gone tomorrow. I wanted to call on you first and hear your answer before I left town.”

Trumbull captured both her hands in his and kissed them. “Thank you, Amelia. I’ll let my father know of our engagement. I’ll also purchase a special license when I return. We can wed next week. I’m eager to have it done.”

Disappointment filled her. She’d hoped to be engaged the entire Season and have the banns read once it ended. She’d imagined being married in the Merrimore chapel. Next week gave her little time to organize a wedding. She started to speak and saw the glow in his eyes and realized he must truly care for her to want to wed so quickly.

Hiding her feelings, Amelia said lightly, “Whatever you wish, Trumbull.”

Chapter Four

Amelia dismissed Mary, her lady’s maid, and made her way to the breakfast room, her stomach knotting painfully. She’d briefly seen the newlyweds when they’d returned with Finn and Mena late yesterday afternoon but hadn’t said a word about Trumbull calling this morning. She didn’t want Oliver to be surprised by the visit and needed to tell him immediately. Knowing Trumbull’s reputation, she didn’t think her news would go over well.

Entering the breakfast room, she saw her brother feeding Diana a triangle of toast. The look in his eyes as he gazed at his wife caused Amelia’s stomach to twist further.

“Good morning,” she said brightly, pushing her nerves aside as she went to the buffet and placed a poached egg and a piece of toast on her plate.

“Ah, good morning, Amelia,” Oliver said, his thumb wiping a bit of jam from the corner of Diana’s mouth.

The gesture caused her to think of Trumbull doing the same with her the night they met. While Diana looked as content as a cat that had lapped a bowl of cream, Amelia hadn’t felt anything close to that with Trumbull’s touch. It still worried her that they might not suit physically, especially since he was so experienced in matters in the bedroom and she had yet to receive her first kiss. What if she disappointed him?

Or worse—what if he disappointed her?

“We need to catch up,” Diana said. “I’m sure you’ve been busy while we’ve been gone. I did ask a few friends to stop by and keep you company during teatime so you wouldn’t be too lonely without us.”

“Yes, I had several visitors,” Amelia replied. “I also went to see Thea twice.”

Both times, she’d casually asked where Derek might be and was told by her friend that her brother was out.

“That’s nice,” Diana said. “I hope you have some time to spend with Finn and Mena today. They’ve missed you.”

“How did they like Merrimore?”

Her sister-in-law chuckled. “They almost refused to return to London.”

“It was a wonderful place to grow up,” Amelia said. “I hope it will become home to them.” She paused. “I do have something to discuss with you both.”

By now, Oliver had picked up the newspaper as he attacked his eggs and ham. “Hmm. What?”

Diana smiled widely. “I think I know. Have you made a connection with someone special?”

She nodded. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

Before she could continue, the butler entered the room and announced, “The Marquess of Trumbull is here, my lord.”

Oliver frowned. “Trumbull? What on earth would a scoundrel like Trumbull be doing here at this hour?” Then he glanced at Amelia. “Oh, no. Please, tell me no.”

Suddenly, Trumbull appeared in the doorway. He sailed past the frowning butler, dressed immaculately as always.

“Good morning, Lord Merrifield. Lady Merrifield.” He paused, his eyes raking over her. “Amelia.”

“Amelia?” her brother challenged as he shot to his feet, tossing his newspaper aside. “Since when do you come to my house unannounced, Trumbull, and act so familiar with my sister?”

“Oh, dear,” the marquess said, his eyes cutting to her. “I thought you might have mentioned me to them.” His tone made his disappointment evident.

“I was just in the middle of doing so, Lord Trumbull.” She frowned at him. “I thought you told me you would call at eleven.”

He shrugged. “I was too keen to speak to Merrifield. I’m sorry if I ruined things for you, Amelia.”

“Ruining my sister is not something you’ll be doing, Trumbull,” Oliver said flatly.

“Perhaps you should go to your study, Oliver,” Diana suggested, trying to soothe her husband’s ruffled feathers.

“I’d be happy to go there with you, Merrifield,” Trumbull said. “Only I wish for Amelia and Lady Merrifield to join us there.”

Her brother’s jaw hardened. “And why is that?”

“I have come to admire Lady Amelia during our short acquaintance,” the marquess said sincerely. “She is as clever as she is beautiful and should be present when her future is being discussed. As for Lady Merrifield? The entire ton knows you’re a love match. Wouldn’t it better for the countess to hear everything firsthand? You’re going to tell her of our conversation anyway. I think she should come, too, and be able to express her opinion.” He gave both women a charming smile.

Amelia stood and Diana joined her, saying, “I think that’s an excellent idea, my lord. Oliver, may we go to your study? Or the drawing room?”

The earl’s lips thinned in disapproval. He glared at Trumbull and then said, “Follow me.”

The four left the breakfast room, Oliver leading the way and Trumbull close behind him. Amelia and Diana brought up the rear.

Diana slipped her arm through Amelia’s. “You really think this is the man you wish to wed?” she whispered. “Even I, being new to London, know of his unsavory reputation.”

She merely nodded.

They reached the drawing room and followed Oliver in. He stood and indicated for Amelia to take a seat in a chair, which she did. He and Diana perched on a settee next to her. Diana gestured for Trumbull to take the seat opposite when her husband didn’t ask their guest to sit.

“I know my reputation,” Trumbull began. “It’s quite dreadful. And deserved. I was a rebellious child who grew into a rebellious man. I’ve never gotten along with my father. But things change.” He smiled at Amelia. “Your sister has made it so. Lady Amelia is a calming influence on me.”

She certainly didn’t think so but kept quiet.

“Go on,” Oliver prodded, his brow furrowed.

“I’d like to offer for Amelia. As I told her, I will be Duke of Durham someday. I need a woman by my side of impeccable breeding. Amelia is that woman. She is kind and intelligent. She has a way about her that will allow her to manage not only several large households—but me.” Trumbull grinned. “Let’s just say that Beauty has tamed this Beast.”

Her brother sat silently for a few minutes. Amelia kept her hands in her lap, clasped tightly together. Finally, he looked her way.

“Is this what you truly want, Amelia? If it is, I won’t stand in your way.”

What she wanted and what she could attain were two entirely different things. She wanted Derek de Wolfe to fall at her feet and admit he was wrong about her as he declared himself madly in love with her. That fantasy would never occur. Instead, she had a wealthy, eligible marquess offering for her. She would live a good life. He would give her children. She would supervise his households. In time, he might grow to love her and she might do the same with him.

“It’s an arrangement I want, Oliver.”

“Arrangement?” he questioned. “Remember, Amelia, no one is forcing this decision upon you. The Season has barely begun. If you wish to keep looking for a husband, it’s your prerogative. If you wish to delay and look even next year, you know Diana and I are happy to have you with us for as long as you wish.”

She couldn’t do that. Oliver was starting a new life with his bride and the twins. He’d been responsible for her almost a decade now. It was time she allowed him space so he could raise his own family, just as she would hers.

“I’m very ready to marry Lord Trumbull,” she said confidently. “In fact, he’s agreed to go to Doctor’s Commons and purchase a special license so we can wed next week.”

“So soon?” Diana said, frowning.

“Yes,” Trumbull said, standing and going to Amelia. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “We are excited to start our new life together.”

“Where will the wedding be?” Diana asked.

“You know Rachel will want to hold it at the Merrick townhouse,” Oliver said.

For the first time this morning, Amelia smiled. “Oh, yes, please. Lady Merrick has such excellent taste and she’s so very fond of you, Oliver. Please, let’s ask if she’d be willing to host things.”

Oliver stood. “I’ll do so today.” He extended his hand to Trumbull. “Welcome to the family, my lord. Let’s discuss the settlements.”

Derek knew Diana and Merrifield had returned to London because she sent him a note late last night informing him they were back. She wanted to come visit Thea, knowing she was still housebound with her broken leg. His return message told his sister to come to tea today and bring the twins, knowing Thea had missed being around her niece and nephew. In the meantime, Derek had decided to call upon Merrifield this morning and let him know of the strong interest the Marquess of Trumbull had paid to Amelia during her brother’s absence. If his brother-in-law wasn’t aware of Trumbull’s reputation, Derek intended to inform him of it.

As his carriage arrived at the Merrifield townhouse, he saw the Marquess of Trumbull step from inside it. Anger pulsed through Derek. He leaped from the vehicle before it came to a complete stop and strode towards the man he thought of as an enemy.

“Ah, Lord Reston, how nice to see you.”

“Did you offer for Lady Amelia?” Derek demanded, dispensing with niceties.

A sly smile crossed the marquess’ face. “As a matter of fact, I did.” His lips twitched in amusement. “Did I beat you to the punch?”

Derek said evenly, “I’m not interested in Lady Amelia in that way,” wanting to wipe the smug look off Trumbull’s face. “I’m her brother-in-law and care about her. And her reputation. Something which you haven’t seen to trouble yourself about this past week.”

“No need to say anymore, Reston. I’ve stepped up and done the right thing. Merrifield and I just came to terms regarding the settlement. So in a way, you and I will be related distantly by my marriage. Good day.”

Trumbull strolled away jauntily. Derek felt as if the man had landed a pulverizing blow to his belly.

Amelia couldn’t wed Trumbull. She couldn’t.

And yet, she would be doing that very thing. Something he couldn’t stop.

If only he’d told her of his true feelings . . .

In a daze, he went and rang the bell. Once he was admitted by the butler and escorted to the drawing room, he entered and saw Diana and Amelia embracing as Merrifield looked on.

Diana glanced up. “Derek! What a surprise. Come hear Amelia’s good news.”

He moved forward and greeted them with little emotion.

“We leave and are gone a little more than a week and return to find Amelia has found a husband,” Diana declared.

“Is that so?” Derek directed his comment to Amelia.

She stared at him steadily. “Yes. I’m deliriously happy. Lord Trumbull thinks I’m beautiful and intelligent. Even mature,” she added, knowing the word would hold meaning for him alone.

His gut twisted as if she’d wounded him with a knife but he painted a smile on his lips. “Then I should offer my congratulations,” he said, his gaze penetrating hers.

Amelia turned away. “Diana, come with me. We have so much to talk about.”

The two women left and Derek looked at Merrifield.

“He’s not the one for her,” he said flatly.

The earl studied him. “And you are?”

Derek felt himself flush. “I didn’t say that. I only meant to say I knew Trumbull at Eton and didn’t care for him.”

“Eton was a long time ago, Reston. Boys change into men and put petty arguments behind them.”

Derek didn’t think Trumbull had changed an iota. He was still the rash bully who used people to get whatever he wanted and charmed others, who turned a blind eye to his faults.

“Besides,” Merrifield continued, “I would never have agreed to Trumbull’s offer without consulting Amelia. She assured me she was happy.”

“And you believed her?” Derek asked, not hiding his outrage.

Merrifield’s brows knit together. “I’ve never known Amelia to do something lightly. True, she could be impulsive as a child, but that was part of her charm. She’s matured considerably since then. She’s got a most practical nature and Trumbull seems quite taken with her. He even admitted that she had tamed him. Perhaps all it took was a woman of strong character to make the marquess see his true potential and put aside his scandalous ways.”

Merrifield put an arm around him. “I have to trust her, Reston. If she wishes to wed Trumbull, I won’t stop her.”

Derek only hoped Amelia wouldn’t regret her decision.

“I’ve said my piece,” he told his brother-in-law. “You’re right. It’s your sister’s decision.”

“Uncle Derek!”

He turned and caught Mena, who bounded into his arms. Finn followed close behind his sister and latched on to Derek’s leg.

“My two favorite people,” he declared, hiding the ache in his heart. “Come. Sit. Tell me all about Merrimore.”

As the twins regaled him with tales of the past week and their new father added his own tidbits to the conversation, Derek took the piece of him that loved Amelia Ward and locked it away in his heart. He would never speak of his feelings to her.

And never acknowledge them to himself ever again.

Chapter Five

Lady Merrick fastened the clasp of Amelia’s sapphire necklace, a gift from Oliver and Diana. Trumbull had sent her a pair of matching earrings so she knew he had coordinated with them. She liked how the stones brought out the blue in her eyes, making her feel confident in her appearance. Despite that, Amelia tamped down the anxiety flooding through her and rose.

“You look lovely, Lady Amelia,” Lady Merrick told her. “The marquess is a lucky man.”

“Do you think so?” she asked quietly as her lady’s maid slipped from the room.

“I most certainly do. All of you Wards are a wonderful catch.”

Amelia studied her hostess for a moment. “Do you regret not allowing Oliver to catch you?”

Lady Merrick shook her head. “I think the world of Oliver and would have been fortunate to claim him as my husband. We got along so well together.” She smiled. “But it was always Merrick for me. Now that I see Oliver with Diana, I know they, too, were meant to be together. Just as you and Trumbull are.”

“I’ve never kissed him,” she blurted out.

The marchioness looked startled. “Why not?”

“When I told him I’d never been kissed before, he said he would be the first to do so at the altar when I took his name.”

“Hmm.” Lady Merrick’s brow creased in thought.

“I know he has a horrible reputation. That most in the ton think him a scoundrel. Maybe he didn’t want to kiss me. Maybe I shouldn’t be marrying him.”

Lady Merrick’s hand cupped Amelia’s cheek. “He asked to wed you, my dear. Perhaps he’s more of a gentleman than any of us ever dreamed. You will go to him unspoiled.”

“And woefully ignorant,” she said bitterly.

“Has no one spoken to you of the marriage bed?” the marchioness asked softly.

“Not really. Mama . . . well, you know Mama has been away many years.” Amelia didn’t like to think of her mother, who’d gone mad after their father’s death and currently lived in an asylum. “And it’s nothing I would ever talk with Oliver about.”

Quickly, Lady Merrick explained what Amelia should expect to happen once she and Trumbull retired to their chamber. Some of it surprised her but at least she understood more of what the marital act involved now.

“Tell him to go slowly if you’re unsure of anything. He’ll be your husband, Amelia. He’ll want to please you. Take care of you. You’ll have a lifetime to explore so many possibilities together.” The marchioness kissed her cheek. “Do your best to please him and see that he pleases you in return.”

“How will I know what to do?”

“He’ll guide you. And nature has a way of taking over. Your passion will lead you in the right direction.”

“Oh.”

Amelia regretted that she felt no passion for Trumbull. He seemed more of a duty to her. A man she would wed and bed and provide heirs. The thought of lying with him paralyzed her with fear. She hoped Lady Merrick was right and that everything would work out.

A knock sounded at the door.

“It must be time to start,” the marchioness said as she went to the door and opened it.

Oliver awaited, looking as handsome as he had on his wedding day. Seeing him almost caused Amelia to burst into tears. She wondered if it was too late to change her mind as doubt plagued her. Then she decided that would be foolish. Everyone had already gone to so much trouble for her, especially the Marquess and Marchioness of Merrick. She’d eventually have to wed someone. It might as well be Trumbull. He checked off all the requirements on the ton’s list.

Except she didn’t love him. And he didn’t love her.

Still, she was an adult now. In charge of her own life. Her marriage would allow her to begin her own family and allow Oliver to start a new one with Diana, Finn, and Mena.

As her brother entered, Lady Merrick excused herself. Oliver said, “You make a most beautiful bride, Amelia. I’m very proud of you today.”

“Thank you.”

“Diana has seen Thea settled on a chair near the front. Once I escort you to Trumbull, I’ll help Thea up so she can stand with you as you take your vows.”

“She told me she’d tied ribbons on her crutches so they’d look festive.” Amelia attempted to smile.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Oliver embraced her and, for a moment, she soaked in all his warmth.

“You’ve always given the best hugs,” she said as they parted. “I don’t remember Father or Mother ever hugging me, but you did from the moment you told me about his death.”

He embraced her again.

“Don’t ever stop hugging me, Oliver. I’ll always need them from you,” she said softly.

He offered his arm to her. “And I expect the same from you.”

Leading her from the room, they ventured down the corridor and the wide staircase. They reached the foyer and headed to the drawing room, where two servants opened the doors and allowed them inside. Amelia saw the small group of guests gathered. Most were Oliver’s friends. The Evertons. The Mayfields. The Alfords. And their hosts, the Merricks.

She spotted Derek sitting next to Thea and the hurt in her heart made her turn away. Colin caught her eyes and smiled broadly. Then she saw a few of Trumbull’s friends, Carrion and Birdville, looking sober for the first time since she’d met them. Both were known rakes and, even now, right as she was about to wed their friend, they eyed her as if she were still on the Marriage Mart. It infuriated her and, once again, Amelia wondered what she was getting herself into by marrying into Trumbull’s circle.

Finally, she saw his father. The Duke of Durham had received them for tea two days ago. Amelia had been apprehensive about meeting him but he’d been charming to her, though a bit distant to his son. Knowing the two had never gotten along would be her new cause. She would see that, if not loving toward one another, they would learn to be friendly and comfortable in each other’s presence. After all, Durham would be grandfather to their children. She wanted the duke to be a part of their lives.

Oliver led her to Trumbull and handed her off. Her groom was turned out in a dark green jacket and buff pants that spoke well of his talented tailor. Every woman on the Marriage Mart would be jealous that Amelia had landed such a handsome, distinguished husband. He clasped her hand and they faced the minister.

It suddenly hit Amelia that she didn’t even know her groom’s given name.

Oliver had helped Thea join them and she turned to her friend. Thea winked at her and Amelia relaxed. Everything would be all right. She would marry Trumbull and . . .

And what?

She supposed life was a mystery to be solved as the months and years unfolded. Her fondest wish would be that she and Trumbull would grow close. Even come to love each other. If they didn’t, she would still have her place in society and children to raise. She would have her family and friends.

Would it be enough?

Frowning, Amelia concentrated on the clergyman’s words, finally learning her husband’s given name as the man of the cloth said, “Do you, Lord Trumbull, Roy Ashbury, take Lady Amelia Ward as your wedded wife?”

The vows went on. Trumbull—Roy—looked down upon her with a hint of a smile as he spoke his, as if she were his secret from the world. Oh, she hoped he really did care for her a little bit though she could never, ever call him Roy. The name sounded ridiculous and didn’t fit him in the least.

“My lady?” the clergyman prompted.

She swallowed as he repeated the words she hadn’t said and she echoed them. Her heart thumped wildly and, suddenly, the man proclaimed them husband and wife.

Trumbull turned her toward him. “Your first kiss, Amelia,” he said so softly that she doubted even the preacher heard what he said.

She licked her lips nervously and nodded. “Go ahead.”

His hands ran up her arms to her shoulders, bringing a chill as he held her firmly in place. Then his lips grazed hers and lifted.

That was it.

That was it?

Amelia thought of Oliver and Diana and their amorous kisses which seemed to go on and on. Perhaps Trumbull thought she might be embarrassed by such a long show of affection in front of their guests. He was right. She didn’t want what happened between them to be studied by those in public. Instead, their next kiss would be much different. It would be in private—and lead to other things.

“May I present to you Lord and Lady Trumbull!” the minister proclaimed.

The guests applauded politely, unlike the cheers that she’d heard at Oliver and Diana’s wedding. She understood that most of those in attendance didn’t know Trumbull well and what they did know wasn’t pleasing. It was up to her to show them her husband wasn’t the man they thought he was.

She hoped she’d be able to do so.

They faced everyone and Amelia sensed Derek’s eyes boring into her. She forced herself to look straight ahead and paste a smile on her face as Trumbull led her from the room and toward the ballroom where their wedding breakfast awaited them.

As they walked in and took a seat at the table for the bride and groom, Amelia prayed she would be able to get through the rest of the day.

Amelia allowed Diana and Lady Merrick to fuss over her as she changed from her wedding gown to one more suitable for travel. The wedding breakfast had gone on for two hours, with toasts from Oliver and one from Trumbull’s friend that made little sense to her. She’d made small talk with their guests and then excused herself to come upstairs. Part of her was eager to see what her new life with her husband would bring, while another part wished she could stay here since so much was unknown to her. She and Trumbull would now leave London and head directly to his estate in Essex. She didn’t know its name, much less how long it took to reach it. She didn’t even know how long they planned to stay. Already, she was missing her family and friends and hadn’t even said goodbye to them yet. Her feelings troubled her but she knew she’d committed to Trumbull and would make the best of things with him.

She only hoped he was as committed to her.

Had he given up any mistress he’d kept? Would he be faithful to her—at least until she had provided him with an heir? Durham had told Amelia it was up to her to keep his son in line. Trumbull had chuckled at his father’s words, assuring him that his fiancée had a firm grip on him. It didn’t feel as though she did. To her, holding on to Trumbull would be like trying to capture water. Some might stay in the palm of her hand, but much of it would spill over the sides or leak through her fingers. Amelia still felt as if she barely knew the man she now called husband.

Well, they had decades together ahead of them. She would invest time in getting to know everything about him. His favorite food. His favorite color. Whether he favored brown to black horses or autumn to spring. Trumbull was like a fat tome she’d never opened. She was eager to do so and thumb through its pages, getting to know the contents.

Heading downstairs, she saw their guests awaited. Amelia went to each one present, thanking them for their attendance and telling them goodbye. Thea revealed that her plaster would come off in the next two weeks and she looked forward to getting out and about.

“Promise me we’ll go a few places together,” her friend begged. “Even though you’re an old married lady now.”

“Of course,” Amelia assured her. “We’ll go to Gunter’s for ices. I’ll have Trumbull take us through the park. And you must attend the opera. Trumbull’s box is a good one.”

Thea’s face glowed with happiness. “I’m looking forward to all of that.”

“All of what?”

Amelia saw Derek had joined them. “Your sister and I are making plans for when she’s not hobbled by her broken leg. Once it mends, we plan to get out. I daresay we’ll do some shopping,” she said, knowing he thought her frivolous and featherbrained.

“I’d love to get a new hat,” Thea said. “To wear for when we go to the opera.”

Derek’s face darkened. “The opera?”

“Yes,” Amelia said. “My husband has excellent seats for both the opera and theatre. Once Thea’s ready to be out and about, I want her to attend both with us.”

“That won’t be possible,” he said.

“Why not?” she demanded, keeping her voice low.

“Thea’s yet to make her come-out. I must watch and make sure she’s only seen in the best of company before her debut.”

Amelia felt her face flame. “And you’re saying Trumbull and I aren’t suitable company for her?”

“Yes.” He hesitated and then said, “It’s not you, Amelia. You’ll always be welcome to visit Thea on your own at our townhouse. Even go shopping or to a gallery with her during the day. Being responsible for my sister, though, I have to ensure her reputation remains spotless. Your husband belongs to a dubious crowd. I can’t see Thea’s name harmed by being linked with such a group.”

“I see.” She looked to her friend, who remained dumbfounded by her brother’s words. “It’s all right, Thea. We’ll spend time together. I understand what your brother is saying. Hopefully, the ton will see that marriage has changed Trumbull. Now, I must part from you.”

Amelia kissed Thea’s cheek and then glanced to Derek. “Lord Reston.”

She hurried away, telling Colin goodbye and then kissing the twins and then Diana and Oliver.

“Are you ready, Lady Trumbull?” her husband asked with a charming smile. “It’s time to depart.”

Hearing her new title startled Amelia but she took his offered arm. “Yes, Lord Trumbull.”

They went to the waiting carriage and he handed her up, climbing in and seating himself opposite her. Though disappointed, she kept silent as he tapped on the roof and the carriage went into motion. Amelia waved out the window to those who’d accompanied them outside and then settled back against the cushions.

Her husband’s eyes were already closed.

“Would you care to sit with me, Trumbull?”

He opened his eyes. “I hate riding in carriages.” He moved into the corner and leaned against it, swinging his legs up to the seat and stretching out. His eyes closed again.

Amelia bit her lip. This wouldn’t do.

“Talk to me, Trumbull,” she commanded.

He opened one eye and then shut it again. “I think not. I told you. I don’t like carriages. I’d have preferred riding my own horse but I know appearances are important. Wake me when we’ve arrived.”

“And when would that be, my lord? And where, exactly? You’ve told me nothing of your estate. Not its name or its size. What village is closest to it. How long it takes to reach.”

Her husband didn’t answer. Amelia didn’t know if it was because he’d already fallen asleep or he didn’t care to provide the answers. Hurt rippled through her to be cast aside already, not even worthy of a few minutes of conversation.

She stared out the window, watching the teeming streets of London go by. Then they left the city behind and she studied the countryside for several hours. The carriage turned up a lane and she supposed they were about to arrive at Trumbull’s country estate. No, their estate. All she knew was that they were somewhere in Essex.

“We’re almost there,” she said loudly, stretching a foot out and nudging his leg with it.

He sighed and sat up, smoothing his jacket.

The vehicle turned and Amelia saw the house was as lovely as the drive they’d come up. She hoped the inside would prove as nice. If not, she would set about improving it. She wanted to put her own stamp on the home so she’d feel comfortable in it. Hopefully her husband wouldn’t have any objections.

The carriage came to a halt and the door opened. Trumbull exited and stepped aside. The footman swung the stairs in place and offered Amelia a hand down. She descended and looked about.

“Like what you see of Trumbull Hall?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s quite beautiful.”

She saw several servants lined up and went toward them as Trumbull followed. He introduced her to the butler and housekeeper and allowed them to name the rest of the staff. Something told her he had little idea who served him beyond a select few.

As they went inside, he told the housekeeper they were tired from their journey.

“I’ll see hot water brought to both your chambers, and food, my lord.”

“The food first. We’ll have our meal in the small dining room. Not too much. I’m still full from the wedding breakfast. Then we can bathe,” he instructed. “Have Lady Trumbull’s maid unpack her trunk. Our baths should await us by the time we finish eating.”

Amelia accompanied him to a room and allowed him to seat her. She removed her bonnet and gloves and sat them in the chair to her right. Trumbull sat at the head of the table, which was to her left. She would have preferred being escorted to her chamber first to wash up but she’d decided to try and please him in small ways. Questioning his orders in front of the servants wouldn’t be a good way to start their relationship.

Glancing about the room, she saw the furniture was of good quality and the carpet thick. An oil painting of a lake hung over the sideboard.

He noticed her gazing in that direction and said, “That’s on Trumbull land. Supposed to have good fishing.”

“Have you never fished in your own lake before?” she asked, incredulous.

“No. As a boy, I lived at Durbury, the seat of the Duke of Durham. It’s actually the next estate over, to the east. I fished there. Once I began university, I moved to Trumbull Hall. I don’t care much for fishing. Or country life. I prefer the city.”

“But we will spend part of our year at Trumbull Hall, won’t we?”

Two footmen arrived and placed bowls of soup in front of them. Two more followed with plates that contained roast beef, slices of bread, and fruit. Conversation ceased as her husband dug into his food. Amelia picked at hers, nervous about the night to come. A footman refilled Trumbull’s wine glass several times and she wondered if he would be able to stay awake after drinking so much. The one glass she’d consumed already made her sleepy.

He pushed his chair back and a footman came and did the same for her.

“Your trunk should have been taken upstairs by now. Let me show you to your chamber.”

Leading her up the stairs, he took her down a long corridor and stopped at a door.

“This is your bedchamber.”

“Where is yours?”

He opened the door and she followed him inside, where Mary, her lady’s maid, leaped to her feet. Pointing, he said, “You have a dressing room through that door. Your bath should await you by now.”

“It’s ready, my lord,” Mary informed them.

“My dressing room is adjacent to yours and my bedchamber beyond it. I’ll leave you to your bath.”

Trumbull left the room without further word. Amelia supposed she was to bathe and dress for her wedding night.

“Come, my lady. I’m sure you’re ready for that bath,” Mary said cheerfully. “It’ll be nice to wash the dust of the road from you.”

She allowed the maid to undress and then bathe her, making sure her hair remained pinned up. She’d washed it the night before and as long and thick as it was, she didn’t want it wet again since it took hours to dry. Mary helped her into a white, filmy night rail that Diana had gifted her with. She insisted on putting a dressing gown over it since she could see her limbs through the gauzy material. The maid unpinned Amelia’s hair and brushed it one hundred strokes, leaving it unbound.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Mary,” Amelia said, dismissing her.

Mary gave her a quick grin and exited the room.

Amelia sat and then sprang to her feet, nerves eating away at her. She knew they would kiss some. Then go to the bed. Lady Merrick said Trumbull would then undress her and himself. They would touch intimately, in places that made her blush as she thought about it. The marchioness had warned her there would be brief pain during their first coupling but that it never occurred after the first time. She even warned Amelia there might be a little blood. That had been good to know. She wasn’t fond of the sight of blood. At least knowing it could occur helped her prepare herself.

After pacing some minutes, she took a seat to await Trumbull.

And waited. And waited.

She thought a good hour must have passed since they’d come upstairs. How long did it take for a man to bathe? Longer than a woman? She had two brothers but they’d always merely appeared, washed and dressed. She had no idea how long that took.

Tentatively, she went back into her dressing room and then approached the door leading to Trumbull’s. She tapped lightly on it and waited. When she got no response, she opened the door.

He wasn’t there. He must be in his bedchamber. Was she supposed to have known to go to him? Had he been waiting on her arrival? She hated not knowing the protocol of tonight’s adventures in the bedroom and wished her new husband had kept her better informed.

Crossing his dressing room, she went and knocked on his door. When no answer came, she took the knob and tried to turn it.

It was locked.

Puzzled, she knocked more loudly and called out, “Trumbull? Are you there?”

She heard footsteps and then the lock turning. He threw open the door.

Shock filled her. He was bare to the waist, his chest glistening as if he’d just climbed from his bath.

Frowning, he said, “What it is?”

“I thought . . . I mean . . . I didn’t know if I was supposed to come to you. Or you to me.”

He smiled sardonically. “Neither. You’ve had a long day, Amelia. I know you’re tired from all the wedding nonsense and the hours in the carriage here.”

He drew close and kissed her brow. She could feel his heat. Smell the spice of his cologne—and sweat.

That didn’t make sense at all. Hadn’t he come up for his bath as she had?

“Be a good girl and return to your chamber.” He started to close the door.

“Wait!” she cried.

Trumbull stopped. “Yes?”

“Aren’t we . . . don’t we . . . what I mean to say is . . .”

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re tired. Go to bed. To sleep.”

“So . . . we aren’t going to . . . do anything?”

“No. Not tonight.”

Her husband closed the door. She heard his footsteps receding. Amelia stood frozen in place.

They weren’t going to consummate their marriage tonight. Relief swept through her, followed by anger. That’s what married people did on their wedding night. Yes, she was tired. Of course, it had been a long day but still . . . she’d expected to become a true wife tonight. She tried to give Trumbull the benefit of the doubt. He was only thinking of her welfare. They could come together tomorrow, once both had rested.

She started to turn away and decided she didn’t want that. She wanted to explore what marriage was about tonight. Now. Tired or not.

Amelia started to knock again and then remembered she hadn’t heard Trumbull lock the door. She eased the door open and stepped into his bedchamber. One candle glowed on the far side of the room. She moved uncertainly toward it as she heard . . . something.

Drawing closer, she could make out her husband’s silhouette. He stood next to the bed, his arms around someone who knelt upon the mattress. The two kissed passionately, their eyes closed, their hands roaming along each other’s torsos as they made satisfied noises.

It was Viscount Birdville.

Chapter Six

Amelia murmured one-word responses to Mary’s questions as her maid dressed her for the day. She’d spent most of the night staring at the ceiling in the dark, dry-eyed and numb to what she’d witnessed between her husband and his bosom buddy. As Mary put the finishing touches on her hair, though, the numbness finally wore off, replaced by a rage so volatile that it took all Amelia had not to scream.

She would confront Trumbull. Now. While the anger flowed in her veins, giving her courage which might abandon her if she waited.

“That will be all, Mary,” she said succinctly and left the room, her steps rapid as she made her way downstairs.

She reached the bottom floor and realized she had no idea where breakfast was being served. Fortunately, a passing footman noticed her hesitancy and offered to escort her. Entering, Amelia saw Trumbull at the head of a small table for six. To his right sat Viscount Birdville.

She had to stop herself from smacking them both in the head.

Taking her place at the opposite end of the table, a footman promptly set a cup of tea down for her and then returned with a plate of food. She looked at it and pushed it aside but took a few sips of tea to fortify herself.

“Will there always be three of us in this marriage, Trumbull?” she demanded. “Or more?”

Surprise crossed his face and he sprang to his feet.

“Madam,” he growled, looking daggers at her.

“You owe me an explanation as to what I saw under my own roof last night.”

The viscount glanced lazily in her direction. “I thought you said she’d be docile, Trumbull. I don’t envy you trying to tame this one.” He went back to his eggs and sausage.

Her husband strode toward her and jerked her from the chair, startling Amelia. He dragged her from the room, his fingers gripping her elbow. She tried to pull away and found she couldn’t. He ascended the stairs and rushed her down the hallway to her chamber. Flinging the door open, he shoved her inside.

A maid smoothed the covers over her bed. She leaped back, fear in her eyes.

“Leave us!” roared Trumbull and the servant hurried from the room, not making eye contact with Amelia.

Trumbull slammed the door behind her.

“Never, ever, speak of private affairs in front of the servants,” he warned.

She laughed harshly. “You truly believe anything is private in a large home such as this? Servants know everything—even before you do sometimes—and talk below stairs flies faster than any gossip the ton flings about.” Amelia crossed her arms. “They know exactly what you do and when you do it.

“And whom you do it with.”

He looked as if he might slap her and she steeled herself for the blow. Fortunately, it never came.

“I witnessed you with Birdville last night. Was this ever going to be a real marriage?”

“No,” he admitted. “But it’s the marriage you’ve made, Amelia.”

“It’s not the one I want.”

“It may be,” he contradicted. “From your wedding day on, you’ll have no one to answer to. You have your freedom. You may come and go as you please. Do what you want with whom you wish.”

“Why did you marry me?” she asked, her throat starting to close up as the direness of her situation began to settle in.

“Because of Durham. We have been estranged for many years. He caught me—as you did—with a stable boy when I was scheduled to leave for university in a week. He flogged the boy himself and dismissed him without references. I was held down by his valet and our butler as Durham beat me senseless and then locked me in my room for three days.”

Trumbull raked a hand through his hair. “When he came to let me out, he told me he never wanted to see me again. That I was to go away to university and then spend any free time at Trumbull Hall, taking up all duties as the Marquess of Trumbull. We have corresponded a few times over the years, dealing with business matters, but I’ve never spoken to him in person until I accompanied you to tea the other day.”

Amelia felt a small bit of pity for him but was still confused. “That still doesn’t explain why you married me with your . . . inclinations.”

He laughed bitterly. “Durham gave me an ultimatum. To wed by my thirtieth birthday this July—else he’d change his will and have all unentailed properties go to my cousin. He would also free up a good chunk of money that I wouldn’t have seen until I became the duke. Some will go to pay off my gambling debts. The rest of those funds, along with your dowry, will let us live comfortably until Durham dies.”

Her husband paused. “For now, though, I must live quietly and not draw attention to myself as I have in the past. It’s another of Durham’s conditions. So to society, I will present a respectable image, with an adoring wife whom I dote upon. In private, though, we may each follow our own heart and do as we wish. With whomever we wish.”

Her head reeled from all this unknown information. Then the worst of it struck her harder than any physical blow. “What about children?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“There will be none. That will be Durham’s punishment, going to his grave, realizing his bloodline will die out.”

Despair filled her. “Won’t he question you about it?”

“I doubt we’ll ever speak again.”

She pushed aside her hurt and told him, “You may not, but I certainly can tell him you have no plans to touch me and see us have children.”

Trumbull’s fingers flew to her upper arms, holding her fast. She knew it would leave bruises.

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“You can’t stop me,” she boldly proclaimed. “In fact, I can tell all of society what you are.”

His grip tightened, frightening her. “You won’t. If the truth came out, you’d be humiliated. Embarrassed. The ton would wag their tongues about the naïve, stupid Ward girl who married the sodomite. You’d no longer receive invitations to any events. Your friends would abandon you. You wouldn’t have a husband to warm your bed and you’d lead a very lonely life, Amelia.”

She knew it to be true. “What about you?”

He shrugged. “I’d be fine. I would go to my gaming hells. Bordellos. My friends know who I am and I’d continue to see them in the privacy of their homes. I already have my funds from Durham and would merely wait for him to die.”

Finally releasing her, he stepped away. “If you keep silent, Amelia, we can have the kind of marriage most everyone in the ton does. You’ll go your way. I’ll go mine. I’ll escort you to events, if you wish, though as a married woman you may now have others escort you. As long as you’re discreet, I encourage you to take as many lovers as you choose.”

“As long as there’s no child,” she said bitterly.

“Yes. Tell your lovers to use a French letter.”

“What’s that?”

“Just tell them. It prevents a child coming. They’ll know what to do.”

She felt tears forming in her eyes. “So that’s it, then? We’ll return to London and act as if nothing is wrong.”

When everything is.

“Exactly. You’ll smile at me and pretend in public to be happy. In private, you may actually be happy with the lovers you choose. You’re a marchioness, Amelia, destined to be a duchess. You have a powerful name and several homes. You can do what you wish with your life. You’ll keep those gorgeous curves of yours since you won’t experience childbirth.”

All she could see was the bleak future ahead of her. No true husband. No children. A life of emptiness.

“Be a good girl and come back downstairs. Birdville is quite amusing, you know. We’ll be here a week before we go back to the city. Several of my friends arrive later today to join us for some fun. Perhaps you might find someone interesting among them and lose your virginity before we even return to London.”

“You disgust me,” Amelia said. “I have no interest in the kind of life you describe. I’ll tell Durham and society just how despicable you are and how you trapped me into marriage. I don’t care about the consequences and your secrets. I can’t live a life of lies.”

He strode across the short distance between them, catching her wrist and holding it so firmly that she thought he’d break bones. His other hand caught her chin, forcing their gazes to meet.

“You will do no such thing. You’re my wife now. My property. I can do with you as I see fit.”

Amelia spat in his face. Trumbull shoved her hard and she stumbled back, falling on to the bed.

The look he gave her chilled her to her very soul. “Let’s see just how lonely your life might be if you don’t accept the freedom I offer.”

With that, Trumbull left the room. She heard the lock thrown and raced to the door. Voices came from outside and she pressed her ear against the door, trying to hear what he said and to whom.

“Lady Trumbull is very ill,” he declared.

“I must go to her.”

She recognized Mary’s voice.

“The marchioness will be cared for by others. Report to the housekeeper. She will give you duties to perform until further notice.”

Amelia could only imagine the look on Trumbull’s face. Poor Mary would be quaking in her shoes.

The conversation ended and silence blanketed her. She went and sat in a chair by the window, which looked out on the front drive and lawn of Trumbull Hall.

Her defiance had led her to this prison.

Amelia wondered how long Trumbull would keep her here.

The first day of her imprisonment seemed like a week. Amelia had first checked the door leading from her dressing room to his, hoping to find it unlocked so she could make her way to his bedchamber and out its door to freedom. Trumbull had been a step ahead of her and she found it locked. She’d kicked at it viciously but been unable to get it to give. She returned to her chamber and paced the room anxiously, hoping Trumbull would come to his senses and let her out. She spent much of the afternoon by the window, watching as a good dozen friends of his arrived for what would be a house party instead of her honeymoon. She recognized all of them as they spilled from their carriages, having seen them at balls and while out with Trumbull before their marriage. She speculated on how many of the men’s taste ran as Trumbull’s did and then shocked herself by thinking that some of the women might be the same way, only finding pleasure with their own gender.

By the end of the day, she believed all of his guests had arrived. She roamed the room as an animal in a cage might, restless and anxious.

And hungry. She’d only nibbled at a few bites of dinner last night in anticipation of her wedding night and had nothing but a sip of tea this morning. Her stomach twisted with shooting pains. Finally, she lay on the bed, tired from being on her feet most of the day. She had to leave her gown on because it had a few dozen buttons that lined the back. Not being able to reach them, she found she must remain in it.

She awoke during the night several times and then finally arose as the sun did. Today, the hunger had subsided somewhat but it was her thirst that did her in. By noon of the second day, she only took small sips of water from the bowl where she’d washed her hands. She rationed herself, not knowing when Trumbull would return or if he’d send anyone to her. Glumly, she watched out the window as the group gaily made their way down the lane. Earlier, she’d seen servants loading a wagon with food and drink and decided Trumbull was holding a picnic for his guests.

Every fiber of her being wanted her to call out for help, hoping either servants or guests would rescue her, but she remained quiet. She understood that any servant who came to her aid would be dismissed. Finding employment was too difficult. None of them would give up a job in the household of a marquess, especially if no references were forthcoming. She couldn’t look for help from any of Trumbull’s friends either. They would know his proclivities. For all she knew, he’d told them exactly what had occurred between them and that he was punishing her.

Thus, she remained silent as the grave.

The house party guests returned several hours later, their laughter floating up to her window. Most of the women entered the house but a few stayed as servants appeared with numerous loaded rifles. Amelia watched dully as the men shot at released birds for sport, the servants reloading the rifles. Trumbull never missed. Of the group, he certainly was the best shot.

By the third day, Amelia thought she might go mad. From hunger and thirst. From boredom. From berating herself for having rushed into a marriage with a man she barely knew.

All because she had wanted another man who didn’t want her.

How foolish she’d been.

She remained abed most of the day, her energy waning as her stomach cramped painfully. She’d only risen to open the windows and let some fresh air inside. The stench from her chamber pot filled the room. She’d dragged it into her dressing room and closed the door but the strong smell remained.

Voices had risen from outside but she didn’t have the strength to see who was there. Instead, she lay in the bed, drifting in and out of sleep. She thought of her brothers and how much she wanted to see them. She’d give anything to go back in time and start the Season over. She would attend the various events and truly enjoy them, not worrying that Derek de Wolfe wasn’t interested in her. She would have taken her time and gotten to know several gentlemen well, hoping one would have been kind to her. She would have married a considerate man, something she now understood the value of after what her own husband was putting her through. She would have had children. Amelia dreamed of little girls with bows on their dresses and small boys with curious grins upon their faces. She would have loved them and spent time with them and have been fulfilled.

And then she awoke again to her living hell.

Suddenly, her skin prickled. She’d become attuned to her quiet surroundings and sensed something different in the darkness that surrounded her. Sitting up, she used the last of her energy to swing her legs from the bed and stand, pride driving her to her feet. She gripped the bedpost for support.

The sound of the lock being turned caused her breath to catch in her throat.

Was she finally going to be free?

Of course, she would never be free from Trumbull. She understood after three days of contemplation that she’d made her bed and must lie in it. If it were her husband coming to release her, she would not give him the satisfaction of listening to her beg. She would do whatever it took to be released from this prison and maintain her dignity along the way. She watched as the door swung open and a figure holding a candle appeared in the dark.

“Good evening, Trumbull. Or is it morning soon? It’s hard to tell,” she said casually as the light moved toward her.

He held up the candle and studied her. “Hmm. You look a little worse for the wear.”

Amelia shrugged. “I suppose that would be the case when one doesn’t eat or drink for three days, much less bathe and change clothes.”

The flame caused shadows to flicker across his face but she thought she saw admiration in his eyes and raised her chin a notch.

“And here I thought you’d fall at my feet and plead for mercy.”

“Mercy implies compassionate treatment, Trumbull. I doubt you have that in you, especially toward me. Mercy also implies that I’ve done something wrong and seek forgiveness, which I haven’t and I won’t.”

She knew she should hold her tongue but found it impossible.

“You are a little spitfire, Amelia. I thought three days would have broken you.”

“I’m merely bent, not broken, Husband.” She paused. “Did you wish to speak to me about something?”

He pursed his lips and thought a moment. “Have you reconsidered?”

“You mean will I keep your secrets from the ton and our families? I will—because you give me no choice. I don’t wish to spend my days locked away from society. Starvation has taught me that much.”

Trumbull cocked his head and studied her. “Then you agree to be an adoring wife in public and allow each of us to go our separate ways in private? You give me your word that you will never speak of what truly lies between us—and whom we lie with?”

Amelia tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. “I do.”

She would have to live with herself for making this deal with the devil.

Chapter Seven

Derek had spent a miserable week in London. Thea had refused to speak with him. He’d tried to make her understand that Amelia had married an unsavory character, even if the man was a marquess, and that, as Thea’s guardian, he couldn’t have her seen in Trumbull’s company. As it was, he was compromising by agreeing to allow Amelia to call at the de Wolfe townhouse or even let the two women go about London once the plaster came off Thea’s leg.

His sister wouldn’t hear anything against her friend and had shut Derek out, ignoring him at meals. He’d left the townhome each day, heading to box out his rage at Gentleman Jack’s or making his way to White’s to wile the day away. At night, he made sure he attended every event he’d been invited to, though he had no taste for it. Now that Diana was married and no longer needed his escort, Derek was ready to pack up and head home to Esterley Castle. He’d broached the subject again at breakfast this morning, telling Thea that it might be time to return to Northumberland. She’d only glared at him and returned to painting her toast with marmalade.

He decided he wouldn’t have them leave until Amelia returned. It would only be fair to Thea to see her friend again before they left London. Or they could stay until Thea’s cast was removed and she saw a bit of the city, as was originally planned. But no longer than that. He was eager to return to his estate and continue the work he’d begun there once he inherited it and the title.

At least, that’s what he told himself. If he were in a truthful mood, he wanted to wait and see Amelia. Talk to her. Assure himself that she was fine. That she was happy in her marriage to Trumbull. That the feelings for her which lingered were foolish. Derek would see that she’d begun her new, married life and it would dispel any notion he’d ever had about her. And him. Together.

He knew she’d returned to town this afternoon for she’d sent Thea a message, asking if she could call tomorrow. Derek only knew this from the butler telling him. As he readied himself for this evening’s ball, he determined to clear the air with his sister before he left, idly wondering if he wanted to do so in order that she not speak ill of him with Amelia tomorrow.

His valet finished tying Derek’s cravat and wished his master a good evening, leaving the room. He knew Thea would be in her room by now. Her habit had been for a footman to carry her back upstairs after dinner each evening. With so many stairs, it would have taken her a good hour or more to go up them on her crutches.

Derek knocked at her chamber door and heard her bid him to enter. He did and spotted her stretched out on a chaise lounge, a book in her lap. Her eyes narrowed as he approached.

“It’s ridiculous that we haven’t spoken in a week,” he began, not sounding contrite at all. Softening his tone, he added, “I’m sorry for angering you.”

“You hurt me, Derek. Amelia is my best friend. Forbidding me from seeing her and Trumbull is wrong.”

He knelt beside her and took her hand. “I only wish to keep you from Trumbull and the company he keeps, Thea. I have no qualms with you seeing Amelia.”

She sighed. “Is Trumbull really that awful, Derek?”

Nodding, he said, “He’s a scoundrel of the worst kind. His antics alone could keep the ton’s gossip mill grinding for the entire Season and beyond.”

Thea frowned. “Then why did Amelia marry him? He doesn’t sound like anyone she would be interested in. She hadn’t even kissed him before they wed and I thought that odd. After seeing Diana’s behavior with Oliver, I expected something much different.”

“Lady Amelia never kissed Trumbull?” he asked, hardly believing his ears.

“Yes. Do you think that means he’s trying to be a better man? That he respects her? When she told Trumbull she’d never been kissed, he said he would only do so at the altar.”

His insides tightened. Amelia had never been kissed before. How he wished he’d been the one to be her first.

And last . . .

He swallowed his regrets and said, “I suppose he might have turned over a new leaf. We’ll have to see. In the meantime, you aren’t to accept any invitations that involve him. You have your own future in society to consider. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Derek,” Thea said, resignation in her voice.

He kissed her brow. “I know you’ll see Lady Amelia tomorrow. I hope that will cheer you up.”

“Lady Trumbull now. Of course, she’ll always be Amelia to me. I thought you were to also call her the same, Derek. She asked you to do so.”

“We’ll see. Marriage may have changed things.” He grinned. “We wouldn’t want Trumbull jealous of me, would we?”

His sister laughed. “You should call her Amelia at tonight’s ball and see how he reacts. She wrote that she’s attending it.”

Derek rose. “Then I will make a point to seek her out and address her in that manner.”

“Good.”

He left and ventured downstairs, finding his carriage awaited him. Excitement filled him at the prospect of seeing Amelia again, married or not. He shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t want her as much as he did. He should avoid her after a brief greeting and yet, somehow, he knew he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. She would draw him like a moth unwillingly flies into the tempting flame. His feelings for her would more than likely destroy him. As it was, Derek could no longer entertain the idea of marriage with anyone else. Amelia Ward had ruined all other women for him.

As he settled back against the cushion, he decided to put her out of his mind and concentrate on bringing out Esterley’s full potential once he returned to the north. He had new farming and breeding techniques he wanted to try. Repairs needed to be made to tenant’s cottages, as well as updating parts of the castle. By focusing on his land and estate, he would be too busy to think of the Marchioness of Trumbull.

But while he remained in London this brief time, he would see her. Dance with her. Take tea with her tomorrow when she came to call. He’d pay the price later, wallowing in misery, but it would be worth it for the little bit of heaven on earth that she would bring to his existence.

The carriage came to a stop and Derek alighted with a wave to his coachman. He walked two blocks and joined the crush of guests entering for the evening’s activities, going through the receiving line and then greeting an old schoolmate. His eyes searched the ballroom and didn’t spot Amelia. Trumbull had never been an early bird at ton events. Marriage had unlikely changed that pattern. Derek found a group of acquaintances and passed the time talking with them.

“Isn’t that Trumbull’s new wife?” one of them said.

He casually glanced over his shoulder and saw Amelia in the receiving line.

“Yes,” said another. “She’s a pretty little thing. Very sweet and down-to-earth. I wonder what she saw in a rogue like Trumbull.”

“Maybe he brings out her wild side,” someone suggested.

“Lady Amelia is not like that,” Derek said brusquely. “I know her quite well. She is my sister-in-law.”

“That’s right. Lady Diana wed Merrifield not long ago. Hmm . . . two weddings in the family in a short time. Might you be next, Reston?”

He smiled. “Not a chance. I plan to enjoy my twenties. My thirties can be when I settle down. Excuse me, gentlemen.”

He was drawn like a magnet toward Amelia. He saw her smile at her husband, who kissed her cheek and strolled away. A footman handed her a programme, which she slipped on her wrist. Before she could move, he was before her.

She looked lovely in a pale blue satin gown that made her vivid blue eyes stand out like glittering sapphires. Her thick, blond hair was arranged artfully in a way he hadn’t seen her wear it before.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, clearly startled by his presence, but she recovered quickly. “Good evening, Lord Reston.”

“I thought, as your brother-in-law, I’d earned the name Derek. You look very beautiful tonight, Amelia, though a trifle thin.”

Her cheeks flushed pink and she licked her lips nervously. “I suppose being away from London and all of the rich food may have caused a little weight to drop off.”

“May I ask for a dance tonight?” he asked. “A waltz if they’re playing one.”

The color deepened and her cheeks now flamed. “No one has requested any dances from me in advance.”

“Then allow me.”

He took her card and located the waltz. It was the supper dance. Frowning, he said, “I only see one waltz tonight.”

“Take it,” she urged.

“I’m not sure if I should. It leads into supper. Your new husband might want you all to himself.”

As she worried her bottom lip, Derek felt a rush of desire flood him.

“Trumbull won’t mind. I doubt we’ll even dance tonight. He assures me married couples rarely spend time together at ton events.”

Derek’s gaze held hers. “If you were my wife, I would spend all of my time with you.”

Tears misted her eyes and she blinked them away. Anger replaced them.

“You stupid man,” she said, her voice so low he thought he’d misheard her. Then she smiled brightly. “I will see you for the waltz later this evening.”

He bowed, uncertain what had just occurred between them. Someone called her name and Amelia turned. Derek moved away. He had no intention of dancing with another woman tonight. His lone dance would be with the Marchioness of Trumbull.

Amelia smiled, telling everyone who asked that marriage was wonderful and Trumbull waited upon her hand and foot. At one point, she saw her husband at the punch bowl, looking her way. She smiled and wiggled her fingers at him. He returned her smile and inclined his head before making his way to her.

Pulling her aside, he said, “You’re doing well, pet. I’ve already had three gentlemen seek me out and tell me how you’re singing my praises. They all looked at me as if I’d lost my devil’s horns and tail.”

She continued to smile at him. “I’m only doing what you asked. So you won’t think to punish me again.”

Amelia glanced at Lady Rothmore, who eyed them with interest. The baroness had been one of the guests at Trumbull Hall. Not one person had questioned where Amelia had been for the three days they had caroused without her. Instead, the guests merely smiled as she joined them at meals. The rest of the time, she’d avoided their company. She’d gone for long walks. Read in her parlor. Visited the conservatory. She had no interest in spending any time with her husband’s set of immoral friends.

“I see Lady Rothmore gazing in our direction,” she noted. “Do you sleep with Lord Rothmore?” Her tone was civil and her voice lowered.

Trumbull’s brows arched and then relaxed. “As a matter of fact, I’ve dallied with both Rothmores. She’s much more adventurous in bed than her husband, but his sleek physique is quite pleasing to the eye. And hands.”

She nodded, tamping down her disgust. “So you do bed women.”

“Of course. I prefer men but some women interest me.”

“Just not me.”

Trumbull chuckled. “Not in that way, pet. You’ll have to find your own partners.”

The music struck up and Amelia saw her next partner hurrying toward her. When he arrived, her husband said, “Would you mind terribly if I claim my bride for this dance? Her programme was already filled and I find I must have a dance with her this evening.”

“Of course, my lord.”

He led her onto the floor.

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

“Because I could. Besides, I think it looks better if we’re seen dancing together. Durham is here tonight. In the card room. Even if he doesn’t witness our dance, he’s certain to hear about it.”

Amelia remembered her promise not to reveal to the duke that her marriage was a sham.

“Smile, darling. You’re supposed to be deliriously happy with me.”

She smiled brightly. “I think I could go on the stage with my performance tonight.”

He looked at her indulgently. “Just remember, if you find someone you wish to see tonight, you’re to be careful with the plans you make. I don’t want you discovered in the gardens embracing someone other than your husband.”

“I will always be the picture of discretion in public, Trumbull,” Amelia guaranteed.

The music died away and he returned her to the spot he’d found her. Derek joined them.

“Good evening, Lord Trumbull. Amelia.”

Her husband frowned. “That’s Lady Trumbull to you, Reston.”

“Oh, no,” Amelia said smoothly. “Derek is my brother-in-law. Our families decided to call each other by our first names after Oliver and Diana wed. I am Amelia and he’s Derek. In fact, I believe this is our dance, isn’t it?”

Derek offered her his arm, which she took. “Good seeing you, Trumbull. Come, Amelia.”

Leading her to the dance floor, he took her right hand in his and brought his arm about her as the music started up. She refused to look and see if Trumbull stayed to watch them. Instead, Amelia gave herself over to the music and allowed Derek to sweep her across the floor, almost growing drunk on the spice of his cologne.

“And how is marriage treating you?” he asked.

“I’d rather dance than talk, Derek,” she replied, wanting to savor being in the arms of the man she was destined to always want.

Unless she could convince Derek de Wolfe to become her first lover.

Chapter Eight

Derek approached his rented townhouse, knowing that it was almost teatime.

And that Amelia would be there.

She’d confirmed she was taking tea with Thea during supper last night. They had sat with Diana and Oliver and the Earl and Countess of Mayfield. Diana had become friends with the countess, the owner of Evie’s Bookstore. Derek had shopped there himself twice, finding a new book for Finn and Mena a few days ago while the twins were away at Merrimore with their parents. It still seemed a bit odd to think of Merrifield as their father and yet Derek could already see how much Finn and Mena loved the earl. In return, the earl seemed as loving to them as their mother. Derek couldn’t be happier for his sister.

It did surprise him when Amelia had steered him away from the table at which her new husband already sat. As usual, he was with his cronies; a loud, raucous group. She did wave to him, and Trumbull blew her a kiss, but she seemed glad to be away from their company.

As for Derek, he had enjoyed every minute in her presence. Dancing. Conversing. He knew he should watch himself and his behavior around her. He didn’t want to give Trumbull any reason to come over and speak to them. Not only would it embarrass Amelia but Derek didn’t know if he could keep himself from smashing his fist into Trumbull’s nose, merely for existing.

Confusion filled him. He hadn’t known a thing about love and doubted it existed—and now he realized it did—but it was too late. Amelia had wed another man and Derek would have to live with brief encounters with her, though he knew those would never be enough. Perhaps he should avoid her altogether. He’d gone to sleep last night with the light floral fragrance of her perfume teasing his nose. He’d dreamed of Amelia, dreams that could never be voiced because of what he did to her in them. All day, he’d constantly found himself thinking of her. No good could come of this. She had a husband. He could never be anything more to her than a friend.

Derek already knew being her friend would never be enough.

He thought of his plan to leave London now that Diana was wed. It would be the best way to avoid Amelia but he couldn’t be so unkind to Thea. She was looking forward to being free to walk about again and explore London. Derek decided he couldn’t take that pleasure from her. He’d simply learn to keep his distance from Amelia Trumbull.

After tea today.

He entered the house and bounded up the stairs toward the drawing room, spying a maid rolling in the teacart. Entering behind the servant, he saw Amelia wasn’t their only guest. Diana sat next to Thea on a settee as Finn and Mena played on the floor. The twins spotted him and squealed, running to greet him. After hugging them, he swept one up in each arm and returned them to where Thea was pouring out tea.

“I smelled hot scones and followed my nose. I hope it’s all right if I join you ladies for tea.”

“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Thea said, handing him a cup and saucer.

They spent a pleasant half-hour together. He made sure not to stare at Amelia for too long or engage her in conversation separate from the others. He’d even taken a seat in a chair instead of the empty space beside her. Finn and Mena had scrambled up next to her and kept asking her questions. She answered them every time, paying them close attention.

“Would you care to read to us, Amelia?” Finn asked. “If you’re finished with your tea?”

“Oh, please!” cried Mena. “That would be lovely.”

Amelia smiled warmly. “I’d be delighted to. Shall we go to the nursery and find a book?”

“I actually have a new book for you,” Derek said quickly. “One I purchased at Evie’s the other day. In fact, Lord Mayfield was there and recommended it to me. Shall I fetch it?”

“Yes, please, Uncle Derek,” Finn said. “Bring it to the schoolroom. We can read there. The light is better than in the nursery.”

“We’ll be back,” he told his sisters. “Enjoy your time together.”

He went to his chamber and claimed the book and then went up the stairs and to the schoolroom, where he presented the book to Mena. She took it to Amelia and then climbed into her lap while Finn sat next to them. Derek knew he should leave but he couldn’t. He remained, standing away so as not to distract them.

Amelia’s voice was perfect for reading and she voiced different characters, which delighted the twins. He couldn’t help but think how right she looked with children surrounding her. She would make for a wonderful mother. Sadness filled him, knowing another man would be their father. How he wished he’d ignored the conversation he’d overheard between her and Thea, where Amelia said she wished to marry for love. That had put him off—and now look where he was. Coveting another man’s wife and doomed to forever feel unrequited love for this woman.

She finished the book and Mena declared, “Read it again, Amelia. It’s so good.”

Just then, the children’s governess appeared. “One reading is enough, Miss Mena. It’s time for you and Master Finn to get a bit of exercise.”

“May we walk to the park?” Finn asked.

“An excellent suggestion,” Miss Gimbel replied. “And remember . . .” Her voice trailed off as her brows rose, prompting both twins to immediately thank Amelia for reading to them and Derek for purchasing the book.

The trio exited the room and Amelia stood.

“They are delightful,” she said wistfully.

“You will soon have some of your own,” he said as he came toward her.

It surprised him to see tears well in her eyes.

“Amelia, what’s wrong?”

A sob broke from her and he brought her to him, feeling her tremble as she wept, her face buried against his chest. An overwhelming feeling of protectiveness descended upon him. Trumbull had to be the cause of her tears. It made him all the angrier at the marquess. She finally calmed and then pulled away, looking fragile and very sad. Derek captured her hands in his.

“I won’t ever have children.”

Her words shocked him. “Is . . . is something wrong?”

She sighed. “Everything.” She sank her teeth into her quivering bottom lip, stilling it. “Do you know what a French letter is?” she asked, the sudden change in the conversation taking him aback.

Why on earth would she ask him such a thing?

“I do. Is that what Trumbull is using? Perhaps he wishes to have some time with you before children come.”

Her jaw tightened. “Trumbull doesn’t ever want children.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “Why?”

“He is on poor terms with Durham. It’s his way of punishing his father, letting the bloodline die out.”

Derek couldn’t imagine Amelia not being allowed to mother children. If he hurt this much for her, he couldn’t imagine what she must be feeling. “Did you know of this before you wed?”

“No,” she said. “I would never have married him if I had. Or if I’d known about . . . the other.” Her eyes dropped to the floor.

“What other?” Derek urged.

She remained mute. He released her hands and cradled her face in his palms. “Tell me.”

“My life is in ruins. I married Trumbull in haste. He . . . he plans . . . he says . . .” She took a deep breath and then blurted out, “I’m still a virgin.”

He stilled. “What?”

Her tears began to flow again. “He doesn’t want to be my husband. Not in that sense. I . . . saw him . . . with Lord Birdville. They were . . .” She shuddered.

His thumbs swiped tears from her cheeks, hiding his response. He’d known Trumbull was a horrible choice as a husband but he hadn’t known just how vile. To have wed Amelia and then condemn her to a life such as this? Rage filled his every limb. He wanted to beat the life out of Trumbull.

“Trumbull told me I’m free to do as I please. See whomever I wish, as long as I’m discreet.”

Amelia gazed into his eyes. “I’m so unhappy, Derek. It would have been better if I’d never wed. I only did it because . . . I was in love with you.”

He sucked in a quick breath. “What?”

“You thought me silly and featherbrained when I’m not at all. But I knew you’d never like me, much less love me, and I wanted you to be jealous and I was stupid, oh, so very stupid, and let Trumbull say what I thought were all the right things and they weren’t and he’s awful and—”

Derek silenced her with a kiss.

It was gentle. Knowing that the brief kiss on her wedding day was the only one she’d ever experienced, he didn’t want to rush her. He wanted to comfort her. Make everything better for her. God help him, he wanted to love her.

He brushed his lips against hers, allowing her to get used to the motion. Then he began kissing her tenderly, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. Amelia’s hands went to his chest, her palms pressing against it, scorching him. His kisses became insistent, more frequent and harder, as his hands slid from her face and down her neck before he enfolded her within his arms.

Derek teased her now with his tongue, urging her to open to him. She did, and his tongue swept inside her mouth. She tasted the spice of the tea and a sweetness he couldn’t name, something that was entirely, indelibly Amelia. Her fingers glided up his chest, to his shoulders, and then toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending a shiver of desire through him. He deepened the kiss and Amelia responded. Though a novice, she began mimicking his actions. His heart pounded as a primal urge to possess her ran through him. He fought the urge to push her to the table and make love to her.

He couldn’t take her. She belonged to another, even if her husband had no interest in her. By law, Amelia could never be his. Kissing her now was madness and would only result in heartbreak for them both.

Breaking the kiss, he touched his forehead to hers. They both breathed quickly, almost panting. He inhaled her perfume as he brought her flush against him, feeling her breasts pressing against his chest. What he wouldn’t give to erase the mistakes he’d made, knowing she’d rushed into Trumbull’s arms merely because Derek had cast her aside. He would have to live with that the rest of his life. See her unhappiness as the years unwound. Watch her grow old and bitter, never fulfilled with children, much less have a loving husband and safe home.

“Derek?”

“Yes?”

“I know you are not only a man of principle but very kindhearted because you brought Diana back into your family.”

He lifted his head from hers. “I loved her. Father banishing her from Esterley never meant I stopped loving her. I brought Diana home as soon as I could.”

Amelia studied him, a slight frown creasing her brow. “I know it’s asking a lot. I’m not asking for love. I’m just so lonely, Derek. I was hoping you would agree . . . to become my lover. For just one night.”

Chapter Nine

It had taken every ounce of courage Amelia possessed to say the words.

She knew it wouldn’t be fair to Derek to ask for any type of commitment to her. Being tied to Trumbull made that impossible. All she wanted was one night with the man she loved. A night to collect memories to look back on for the rest of her life. She wouldn’t ask for anything beyond that. After all, Derek needed to wed someday. He must provide an heir for his estate. Amelia somehow knew if they went beyond a single night that he might never follow the path chosen for him.

Her heart twisted when she saw the conflict clouding his face.

“It’s all right to say no,” she calmly told him. “I just thought as long as Trumbull suggested I’m free to take a lover, that I might do so.”

Anguish filled his eyes. “I want to, love. Believe me. To spend a night in your bed would be heaven.”

“You are a decent man, Derek. I understand that. Bedding another man’s wife goes against your moral code.”

He clutched her shoulders. “I do love you, Amelia.”

Her heart stirred. She may never have the physical experience but she could treasure the words he’d given her. It would be something to cling to during the lonely nights ahead.

“I know. And I love you.” Her throat tightened. “But I ask that you don’t, Derek. We can never become husband and wife. You need to move on. You’re quite a catch, with your good looks and wealth. Mamas everywhere will push their daughters upon you—and they should. You are an eligible bachelor who needs an heir.” She smiled sadly at him. “You will make a good husband and father.”

His grasp tightened on her. “I cannot leave you in this limbo. What Trumbull has done to you is unthinkable.” His jaw tightened. “I will challenge him to a duel.”

Panic swelled within her. She’d seen what an excellent shot her husband was. She would be sending Derek to a certain death if she allowed him to call out Trumbull.

Quickly, she said, “Whatever for? It doesn’t work that way. He would have to be the one to challenge you if he thought my honor and name had been besmirched. We would have to be caught by others in public in a compromising position. I can’t ever let that happen. I gave him my word that I’d never speak publically about our sham of a marriage and that I would never be found by others with another man. He will let me do what I want, as long as it’s in private.”

“Why did you promise such a thing, Amelia? It doesn’t seem like you.”

She shuddered. “He . . . forced my hand regarding the matter.”

Derek’s golden eyes glowed in anger. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not exactly.” She lowered her eyes, embarrassed to recall what had occurred and how helpless she’d been.

“What did he do to you?” Derek’s tone was deadly.

She thought it better to tell him and be done with it.

“He locked me in my bedchamber,” she admitted. “During our honeymoon.”

“For how long?”

“Three days. While he enjoyed the company of his friends. I certainly wasn’t missed.”

He looked at her with tenderness. “I’m sure you were lonely.”

She nodded. “Lonely. Hungry. I thought the thirst would drive me mad.”

Derek’s eyes widened. “Wait. He starved you?”

“Until I gave in. I did give him my word, Derek. I must never reveal anything about our marriage. It was wrong for me to even tell you.”

“I’ll kill him,” he ground out. “He left you alone all that time while he gallivanted with his friends?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “It’s all right. I survived. My practical nature knew to give in to his demands. I do have more freedom than most wives in the ton, Derek. Trumbull doesn’t really care what I do as long as it doesn’t reflect poorly upon him.”

His hand cupped her cheek as his eyes searched hers. “Will you . . . take another lover?”

“No. I could never be with anyone . . . but you.” Amelia blinked at the tears filling her eyes.

“There has to be a way out of this,” he insisted.

“Divorce?” she said. “You know that’s impossible. Every man in the House of Lords would side with him. Besides, it would break my agreement with him.”

“You could ask for an annulment. There’s been no consummation.”

She shook her head. “That would only bring scandal. It could affect too many people. Oliver and Diana and their children. Colin, though I don’t know if he’d ever raise his nose from his books long enough to think about taking a wife. Even you and Thea could be painted with the brush of gossip, being extended family. Thea hasn’t even made her come-out yet. I wouldn’t want to hurt her chances to make a good marriage.”

Amelia sighed. “No, Derek. My bed is made and I will lie in it for life. I’m not so different from most wives in the ton. I married a man who’s given me a home and his name and title. He will see to my creature comforts. We will lead separate lives, but at least he’s not one to beat me. True, I’ll never have children, but I will have my nieces and nephews. I will spoil them.”

“It’s just so unfair.”

She shrugged. “So it is.”

He looked at her with pity, which she resented. She started to push him away and he caught her in his arms again. His mouth crashed down on hers and he kissed her hungrily, as if he starved for her. Only her. The kiss went on and on, leaving her spent and weak. Finally, he broke it.

“One night,” he said with determination. “We owe it to ourselves.”

Joy filled her. “You’re certain?”

“I’m conflicted,” he revealed. “But I want to do right by you. And by God, I can’t help myself, Amelia. I want you with every breath I take.”

“One night then. Tonight? After the musicale at the Dothbys’?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“I do, Derek. Tonight.”

“You should leave now. We’ve been up here far too long.” He shook his head. “It’s too obvious what we’ve been up to. Go collect your things from the butler and head home. I’ll give your excuses to Diana and Thea that you spent too long with the twins and needed to hurry home.”

He escorted her downstairs. Taking her hand, he kissed it tenderly. “I’ll see you tonight at the Dothbys. And afterward.”

Amelia left the townhouse and couldn’t contain her happiness in the carriage, grinning like a fool. She’d need to check with Trumbull, though, to see how the rules worked. Alighting from the carriage once she arrived home, she asked the butler where her husband was and was led to his study.

“May I speak with you a moment?” she asked.

He put down the paper in his hand and studied her. “You’ve been up to something.”

“I have. I need to understand how to proceed.”

“So you’ve decided on your first lover.”

It would be her only one but she wouldn’t reveal that. “Yes. I’d like to see him tonight after attending the musicale. Should he come here? Or should I go to him?”

Trumbull steepled his fingers. “It’s better if he comes here. I don’t ever want you seen leaving a private residence in the wee hours of the morning. The front door here remains unlocked after I go out. I have plans of my own after tonight’s event. Have him leave his carriage around the corner and slip in through the front. Instruct him where your bedchamber is and he can go directly to it.”

“And if he sees a servant?” she inquired, still not believing she was having such an outrageous conversation.

“No one will speak to him. The servants know to turn a blind eye to visitors in this house. Your lover can slip from the house once you’ve finished.”

“I see.”

“May I inquire as to—”

“You may not. I won’t ask you about your affairs and expect the same courtesy.”

“It’s Reston,” he said, a knowing look spreading across his face.

Amelia felt her cheeks burn. “Why do you say that?”

“Because he was storming toward Merrifield’s door the morning I left after offering for you. He seemed quite incensed that he’d missed out.”

Knowing that made her feel a little better.

“Be careful,” her husband warned. “Don’t ever get too emotionally attached to any lover. Especially one like de Wolfe. He’s young and idealistic. You don’t want him falling in love with you and challenging me to a duel. Remember, you’ve given me your word—no public spectacle.”

She kept silent, knowing Derek had already suggested it.

“Thank you for letting me know what to do in the future. Will you be escorting me this evening?”

“Certainly. I’ll even drop you off at home before proceeding to my own engagement.” He eyed her with interest. “I hope you enjoy yourself tonight, Amelia. Just remember discretion is what you promised.”

“I won’t forget, Trumbull.”

Derek climbed from his carriage and turned north on foot. His driver had instructions to wait. With each step, the blood pounded more fiercely in his ears.

He was going to be with Amelia.

Everything told him it was the wrong thing to do—and still he trod onward, determined to take what little time they would have together.

Could he stop at one night?

He didn’t know.

He reached the Trumbull townhouse and turned the knob. The door was unlocked as she’d said. They’d briefly spoken at tonight’s musicale as they’d both taken a glass of ratafia and then sat on opposite sides of the room. Trumbull actually sat with Amelia, which surprised Derek. When the earl caught his eye from across the room, he was certain Trumbull knew he was the man Amelia had invited into her bed tonight.

Derek took the lit candle near the entrance and proceeded up the stairs. No servants were in sight. He heard a clock chiming midnight in the distance as he silently made his way along the corridor, counting the doors and pausing in front of what he hoped was the correct one. Without knocking, he entered.

Moonlight flooded the room. Amelia stood with her back to him, gazing out the window. He closed the door and she turned. His breath caught. Thanks to the moonlight, her simple night rail, worn with no dressing gown over it, was transparent. He could see the curve of her hips and breasts and the silhouette of her long, shapely legs. She was the loveliest creature he’d ever seen.

And tonight—she was his.

He placed the candle down and moved toward her, his heart slamming against his ribs. He paused before her, drinking her in. It was the first time he’d seen her hair unpinned. It spilled down her back in waves. He stepped close, their bodies barely touching, and pushed his fingers into her hair, threading them into the thick mass of silk.

“Tonight is ours,” she said softly.

“Ours,” he agreed.

Derek’s fingers tugged on her hair, tilting her head back. Amelia’s eyes loomed large, studying him as if they might never see one another again. His mouth covered hers and they kissed for a long time, each one sweeter than the one before. His hands slid down her slender back, rubbing up and down and finally cupping her buttocks, holding her to him. Amelia’s hands caressed his chest and then she wrapped her arms around his waist, holding tightly.

He broke the kiss. “Let me undress you.”

She nodded.

He undid the ribbons and peeled the night rail from her, tossing it to the ground. Moonlight bathed her flawless alabaster skin.

“My God, you are perfect,” he whispered.

Amelia began undoing his cravat, pulling it from his neck. He allowed her to play valet to him, unbuttoning and stripping the clothes from him. When he was bared to the waist, she smiled.

“You are the perfect one,” she said in awe, her palms flattening against his chest and rubbing up and down it, stroking him, inflaming his desire.

He kissed her again, long and deep, feeling himself growing hard.

She pulled away. “Let me finish.”

Leading him to a chair, she had him sit and helped remove his Hessians. The rest of his clothes quickly followed and he rose, embracing her. His lips kissed her hair as he held her close, feeling her heart beating as rapidly as his own did. Without a word, Derek took her hand and led her to the bed, already turned back and ready for them.

“Lie down so I may worship you,” he said.

Knowing this was his only time to be with her, he touched and kissed her everywhere, memorizing every line of her body. He found where her neck and shoulder joined to be an especially sensitive spot and kissed and licked his way from it to her breasts. They were plump and filled his palms perfectly. His tongue swirled around her nipples, causing them to pebble in need. He flicked his tongue across them, stealing her breath.

Derek kissed his way back to her lips. She opened for him and his tongue sampled her sweet nectar. His fingers lightly stroked her inner thigh and then moved upward, teasing the seam of her sex. He pushed one finger inside her and heard her gasp as he kissed her. Another joined it and he stroked her until she writhed and panted. Finding her nub with his thumb, he teased and rubbed it until she was sighing and whimpering and calling his name.

“Fall, Amelia,” he urged. “Tumble headfirst into the bliss.”

She cried out in ecstasy as he watched. She said his name, over and over, riding the wave of pleasure until it subsided. The glow of happiness flushed her face.

In that moment, he knew he couldn’t take her virginity.

“I don’t know what that was,” she said, wonder in her voice, “but it was incredible.”

“It will get better,” he promised.

Derek took his time kissing everywhere on her, finding the tender spot behind her knee and the one along her collarbone. He trailed a line of kisses down her belly as his hands captured her ankles, pushing them toward her to raise her knees. With better access to her now, he dipped his tongue into her core.

“Derek!” she gasped. “What are you doing?”

He raised his head, delighted in the shocked look on her face. “I’ve made love to you with my fingers. Now my tongue and lips will do the same.”

Astonishment filled her eyes. “Lady Merrick said nothing about this.”

“Is she the one who prepared you for your wedding night?” he asked.

Amelia nodded.

“Then let me show you what she forget to mention.”

Derek had learned much from the widow he’d gone to during his Oxford years and used that knowledge now on Amelia. Soon, she clutched his hair, begging for more, whimpering and panting and then cresting until she shuddered violently and lay spent.

He moved so that he lay next to her, his arm going about her waist as he nuzzled her neck.

“It did get better,” she said, humor laced in her voice. “I didn’t think that possible.” She paused. “But you’ve only pleasured me. Lady Merrick said I was also to pleasure you. And we haven’t even done what she told me about.”

Amelia sat up and saw his swollen cock. Her eyes widened. “My, that’s very large.”

She reached out and grasped it and he groaned at her touch. Smiling, her thumb started stroking its head.

It was torture. It was madness.

It was heaven.

She continued to touch him until he thought he would explode. Before he could spend his seed, he pushed himself from the bed and pulled her chamber pot from beneath the bed, using it instead of her to receive his release. He went to his clothes and pulled a handkerchief from them and cleaned himself before returning to the bed.

By now, she sat up, a frown on her face. He joined her on the bed and cupped her cheek. Moving in to kiss her, she pushed him away.

“Why did you do that? I already knew it would hurt a little bit but Lady Merrick said it only hurts once. I thought . . . I thought . . . we could do it . . . at least twice tonight.”

Derek cradled her face in his hands. “I want to but I can’t, love. As right as it feels to hold you in my arms, I cannot claim your virginity.”

He kissed her cheeks, the salt from her tears stinging his tongue.

“I wish you weren’t so noble,” she complained good-naturedly. “I suppose it’s one of the reasons I—”

She clamped her lips tightly together.

“I know you love me, Amelia. As I love you.”

She shook her head as a stubborn child being told something she didn’t want to hear. “No. It’s selfish. We cannot love one another, Derek. Tonight is it for us. You must promise me you’ll find someone to love. Someone you’ll care for. A wife to share your life with. One who will give you children.”

What she said made sense in his head but his heart overruled her words.

“Never.”

“Please,” she begged. “I can’t stand to think of you unhappy.”

“And I can’t stand the thought of us spending holidays together, sitting in the same room even though a gulf wider than the world is between us.”

“If you truly love me, you’ll do what I ask. What I need is for you to forget me, Derek. I’ll only be happy if you walk away and create a wonderful life for yourself.” Her fingers caressed his cheek. “Do that. For me.”

He kissed her. “All right,” he agreed, his heart shattering into a thousand jagged pieces.

They lay on the bed after that, his arms about her. No talk between them, just savoring the feel of one another. Finally, he kissed her and rose in order to dress. She did the same, slipping her night rail back on and layering a dressing gown of powder blue over it.

“Let me walk you downstairs,” she said quietly.

They left her chamber, the house silent, and made their way downstairs. Reaching the door, Derek took her in his arms again for a final, passionate kiss. In it, he could taste their love mixed with the bitterness of their farewell.

Breaking the kiss, he said, “I will never forget you, Amelia. You will always hold my heart.”

“I will always—”

“I was afraid of this,” a voice said.

Trumbull stepped from the shadows. “Now I’ll have to do something about it.”

Chapter Ten

An icy chill swept through Amelia at the sight of her husband. Derek’s fingers laced through hers, giving her comfort—and the courage to speak up.

“You don’t have to do a thing, Trumbull. Derek is leaving.”

The marquess glared at her. “I told you to keep your emotions separate. That you could dally with whomever you chose as long as you guarded your heart. You didn’t listen, though.” He turned to Derek. “You’ll have to pay the price, Reston, for my wife’s mistake.”

“She’s still a virgin, Trumbull,” Derek said. “We’ve decided not to see one another again.”

Trumbull groaned. “That’s even worse. Don’t you see? You’ll moon at each other from across the room, no matter what event you’re attending, and continually pine for one another. I can’t have it.”

“I don’t understand,” Amelia said. “I accepted your bargain, which gives us both our freedom to do as we wish within reason—and yet you renege on it. You’re allowed to do whatever you want. And what do you mean that Derek will pay the price?”

Her husband gave her a grim smile. “He will pay with his life. Because I now challenge him to a duel.”

Her blood ran cold. She’d watched Trumbull shoot from the window of her prison. The man never missed. Never. She had no idea what kind of shot Derek was but doubted he could best Trumbull in a duel. Allowing him to accept the challenge would be signing his death warrant.

As Derek said, “I accept,” at the same time she said, “I won’t allow it.”

“You have no choice, pet.”

“Quit calling me that!” she hissed. “You are the one who said we were to avoid public scandal. That you didn’t want your father alienated in any way. Yet you are going to challenge Derek to a duel—which the entire ton will hear about—and for what? Beyond a few kisses, he hasn’t touched me. I am as pure as the day we wed so there is no reason for you to fight a duel over me.”

Trumbull’s smile turned evil. “I rather like it, though. Durham will see it as a romantic gesture. So will the ton. It will be nice to be in everyone’s good graces for a short while. I’m one of the best shots in London. Reston will be eliminated. My wife’s heart will be broken for a while but then she’ll learn to keep it intact with her future lovers.”

Amelia broke away from Derek and shoved her husband with both hands, causing him to stumble.

“You’ll do no such thing. I’ll call a doctor and submit to his examination. He’ll verify I’m still a virgin. I’ll deliver that report to Durham and let all of society know, as well.” She paused. “Unless you end this foolishness.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Trumbull said with confidence, though she saw doubt flicker in his eyes.

“I would—because you’re breaking our agreement. We’re not to cause any scandals, alone or separately. You cannot have me agree to rules and then change them once the game has begun, Trumbull. I won’t stand for it. I’ve already told Derek he should move on and find a wife. He hasn’t compromised me. Get it through your thick skull that it’s over before it ever started between us. Let him be.”

Her husband took a menacing step toward her but Amelia held her ground.

“All right,” he said grudgingly. “But you’re never to dance or dine with him again. If your paths cross, give only a cursory greeting.”

She snorted. “What about family affairs? Dinners? Holidays? Thea is my best friend. I won’t give up seeing her for tea or going on outings together,” she said stubbornly.

“Very well. The rare times we will be around your family, I demand the same. A brief greeting to Reston and then you move on. As for Lady Thea, you may see her but never be in Reston’s company. Do you agree to this?”

Amelia turned to Derek, whose jaw looked set in granite. Anger flooded his face.

“Yes,” she said to Trumbull, her eyes fixed on the man she loved. “We agree to it all. It will help us both move on.”

Anguish now filled Derek’s face as she continued. “We’ve said our goodbyes, Derek. I hope you find a woman worthy of you. Farewell.”

With that, Amelia turned and walked with measured grace to the staircase and ascended it, believing if she looked back, she might turn to salt as Lot’s wife did.

Derek rose and allowed his valet to dress him, feeling dead inside. He’d fallen into bed just before dawn and hadn’t slept at all. His eyes felt as if sand had been poured into them.

He’d never have a conversation with Amelia again. Never dance with her. Never share a meal. He would be doomed to dream of her kisses and never be fulfilled. It seemed as if his life had ended abruptly. He had decades of unhappiness left ahead of him, a living death from which he’d never escape.

Could he do as she asked and find someone else to love?

He doubted it. Instead, he would focus on what he deemed important. Work to increase the productivity of Esterley during his twenties and wait until thirty or beyond before ever taking a wife. It wouldn’t be fair to any woman he met now because his heart, mind, and soul belonged to Amelia. Maybe time and distance would allow him to move forward and one day wed.

But he would always cherish Amelia in his heart.

Derek went downstairs and entered the sunny breakfast room. The thought of food had no appeal to him.

“Good morning,” Thea said cheerfully. “You look rather sullen. Was the musicale that boring last night?”

He decided to be honest with his sister. “Leave us,” he commanded, and the footmen, looking confused at being dismissed mid-meal, left the room.

Thea took his hand. “What’s wrong, Derek?”

“Everything.” He paused. “I am in love with Amelia.”

She drew in a quick breath. “Oh. I was afraid of that.”

He didn’t bother to ask how she’d come to that realization. In the long run, it didn’t matter.

“I made a huge mistake by not offering for her. I realize that now. It’s something I must live with the rest of my life. She is married now. Because of that, I have spoken with her.”

“She knows of your feelings toward her?”

He nodded. “We think it best not to interact socially in any way. We’ll be cordial if we run across one another in public but it’s best to cut all ties. Because of that, I hope you’ll share your calendar with me. When you’re going to see her. If she’s scheduled to come to tea. I will make myself scarce during those times.”

Sympathy poured from her as she squeezed his hand and then lifted it and held it against her cheek for a long moment.

“I cannot imagine how you feel. Only know that I love you and will do whatever I can to help you through this. Even if I need to end my friendship with her.”

Derek gave her a weak smile. “I’d never ask you to do that. Just leave me out of any future outings.”

“All right,” she said softly and released his hand.

He rose. “I’m not hungry. I’ll leave you to your breakfast.”

“Wait.”

He stopped. “Yes?”

“The surgeon is removing my plaster at eleven today.”

“No wonder you appear to be in such a good mood.”

“I’ve eagerly awaited this. The moment it’s off, I can’t wait to soak in a hot bath.” She hesitated “Because of this, Diana and Amelia are calling for me at one o’clock. We are to go buy new bonnets and then stop at Gunter’s for ices.”

“Thank you for letting me know. I would like to speak to the surgeon before he leaves.”

Thea nodded. “I’ll tell him.”

Without further conversation, Derek left the room and retreated to his study. He sat staring at the papers before him. Nothing made sense and he finally pushed them away as a knock sounded on the door.

“Come.”

The surgeon entered and Derek rose, offering his hand and asking, “How is my sister?”

“Her bone has mended beautifully.”

“She won’t be limited in what she can do?”

“Not at all. I told her the limb will be weak from disuse, though, so she’ll need to build her strength back up. Walking will be good for her.”

“Did she tell you of her outing today?”

The surgeon nodded. “She did. I have no concerns regarding it. Lady Thea will know best when she needs to give the leg a rest. In a week’s time, I see her being completely back to her old self.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“My pleasure. The outcome is not always so bright for some of my patients. I’ll bid you good day, Lord Reston.”

After the man left, Derek waited an hour and then went upstairs to see Thea, hoping her bath would be over. Her maid admitted him and he saw her fully dressed, though her hair hadn’t been arranged yet.

She stood quickly and walked to him. “See? Good as new.”

“I’m glad you didn’t suffer any further consequences.” Clasping her hands, he added, “I just wanted to see you for myself. I’m off now.”

She nodded knowingly. “Will I see you for dinner?”

“Of course.”

He returned downstairs and decided to head to White’s. It might do him good to be around others. Once he arrived, he spoke to a few acquaintances and then took up today’s newspaper. The Earl of Mayfield came by and they had a long conversation regarding a pair of horses Mayfield was considering purchasing as they took some luncheon together. Afterward, Mayfield headed to his wife’s bookstore and Derek thought he might pound out some of his frustration at Gentleman Jack’s.

As he left White’s, he ran into Trumbull on the sidewalk. He acknowledged the marquess with a brusque nod and went to move past him, but Trumbull held out a hand.

“I may not be able to issue you a challenge to a duel, but I have something else in mind.”

He wondered what, but remained silent.

“Amelia’s not to know of this, of course,” the marquess said. “I still think we need to clear the air between us with a little friendly contest.”

“I can’t see anything ever being friendly between us,” Derek snapped. “You’ve taken someone I care for deeply and ruined her life. She’ll never have a moment of happiness as long as she’s wed to you.”

“Such passionate words, Reston. Well, let’s see if you rise to this challenge. Have you a phaeton?”

“No.”

“Then you better purchase yourself one.” The marquess’ eyes gleamed. “Because I am challenging you to a race a week from today. Dawn at Hyde Park. Just the two of us.”

Derek knew Amelia would be horrified at the proposed contest, especially since Derek had never driven a phaeton and Trumbull must be an expert, else he never would have issued the invitation to race him.

It didn’t stop him, though, as he responded, “I accept.”

“Good. Go buy yourself one. I’ll see you next Tuesday at dawn in Rotten Row.” Trumbull sauntered away and stepped inside White’s.

Immediately, Derek turned in the direction of his brother-in-law’s townhouse. Gaining entrance, he was led to Merrifield’s study.

“Hello, Reston. Diana’s out.”

“I came to see you, Merrifield. I have nowhere else to turn.”

The earl studied him a moment and then rose. “Come. I think this calls for a whiskey.”

Merrifield poured two glasses and handed Derek one, which he downed in one swallow.

“What do you know of phaeton racing?”

“That’s it’s exciting. Fast. Dangerous. Why?”

“Because I will be racing Lord Trumbull in a week’s time. Will you help prepare me?”

“Bloody hell,” Merrifield responded.

Chapter Eleven

Trumbull was being very un-Trumbull-like—ever since Derek’s departure a week ago.

Her husband spoke to Amelia more frequently and even dined with her every evening, which had been rare before. He asked what events she planned to attend each evening and escorted her to every single one. He complimented her twice on what she wore and even presented her with a pearl necklace and matching earrings, causing her suspicions to grow tenfold.

Her husband was up to something. She only wished she knew what.

And if it involved Derek de Wolfe.

The past week had gone swiftly, thanks to Thea being mobile. They’d shopped twice and Amelia had treated her friend to a new bonnet and pair of gloves, courtesy of the Marquess of Trumbull. Her husband would never know, much less care, that his wife had spent his money on her friend. She told herself it was a perk of being married, sending all her bills to Trumbull’s manager.

Thea hadn’t mentioned Derek during their first two outings, which Amelia found odd. The third time in the carriage as they traveled to visit the British Museum, her friend admitted that she’d learned of Derek’s feelings toward Amelia. Amelia found herself tearing up, telling Thea she felt the same but knowing nothing could come of it. They agreed not to mention Derek except in passing, but news of him came out when Amelia asked why Thea was staying with Oliver and Diana. Each of their outings had originated from the Merrifield townhome. Thea explained that Derek had left London on business and had suggested she stay with Diana while he was gone. Oliver had also left town to complete some business transaction, which allowed the two sisters to enjoy time together. Amelia only wished she could join them and never return to Trumbull’s residence, a place which would never feel like home.

She left her bedchamber, wearing her new pearls and a gown of soft moss green, and met Trumbull in the foyer. Her husband looked distinguished in his dark evening clothes. She wished things could be different between them but knew, like the proverbial tiger, Trumbull would never change his stripes—and her unhappiness would grow as the gulf between them continually widened.

“Are you ready for cards tonight?” he asked. “Do you play whist?”

“I do,” she answered and then added, “Tonight’s entertainment seems tame for you,” trying to discern why he was going with her at all.

“I’ll make do,” he said, a mysterious glint in his eyes.

They arrived and went their separate ways, greeting friends before play began. As she turned to find something to drink, her father-in-law stepped toward her.

“Good evening, Lady Trumbull.”

“Good evening, Your Grace,” she replied, tamping down the nerves she experienced in his presence, worried that he would see through the charade she and Trumbull played.

“I see you’ve brought my wastrel son to heel. I knew you could,” he praised.

“How so, Your Grace?”

Durham glanced across the room at his son. “He’s come with you to every event for a good week or more. He’s not as boisterous, drawing attention to himself. Why, I’d almost call him well-behaved.” The duke smiled. “I thank you, my dear. I doubted he had it in him to settle down.”

“I’m not certain Trumbull’s entirely domesticated at this point,” she said, knowing their relationship was a lie and everything was done for show.

“Still, your progress is remarkable. Soon, I hope you’ll inform me there’ll be the pitter-pat of little feet in your nursery.”

Amelia felt the hot blush stain her cheeks. “If it happens, we’ll be most pleased.”

Durham frowned. “Of course it will happen. I expect children from you, my lady.” He gazed at her pointedly. “Unless there’s a reason I shouldn’t?”

She knew he pushed her to reveal secrets she had no business sharing.

“It took my mother four years before she gave birth to me,” she said lightly. “I only hope Trumbull and I will be blessed sooner rather than later.”

Her husband joined them. “Are you badgering my wife?” He put an arm possessively about her waist. “Come, Amelia. There’s someone I’d like you to meet. Durham.” He nodded to his father and led her away.

Once they were out of the duke’s earshot, he asked, “What did the old bugger want from you?”

“Grandchildren,” she said succinctly.

Trumbull sucked in a quick breath. “He’s already harping on that? We haven’t even been wed a month.”

“I told him it took my mother four years to produce me—which was a lie, by the way. If he thinks I might have trouble breeding, perhaps he’ll keep those comments to himself in the future.”

“I hope he dies soon,” Trumbull muttered. “I don’t want him changing his will. I loathe my cousin and Durham knows that. He’s looking for any reason to bequeath the unentailed property to Adam. He’s always had a soft spot for Adam, often favoring him over me as we were growing up. I won’t have it.”

“He did say I’d tamed you sooner than he’d thought. I suppose he’s noticed how solicitous you’ve been toward me.”

“Good. Let him think that.” Trumbull glanced around the room and changed the topic of their conversation. “Have you considered Morris as a lover? His wife has given him an heir and a spare. He told me they’ll go their separate ways now.”

She looked at the viscount, pretending to consider him. “I’ll think about it,” she told her husband, knowing she’d never see it through. Her heart would always be with Derek de Wolfe. She would never let another man touch her, especially a married one who had no business straying from his wife.

The evening ended much sooner than she’d expected and, by eleven, they pulled up to their townhome. Surprisingly, Trumbull accompanied her inside and up the stairs.

As they reached her chamber, she asked, “Are you going out later?”

His pattern had been to drop her off and head out for other adventures, where he often came home in the hours before dawn. The fact he now came upstairs caused her suspicions to grow.

“I think I’ll make an early night of it,” he proclaimed and then kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, Amelia.” A smile played about his lips as he continued down the corridor to the master chamber.

She entered her bedchamber, her gut telling her Trumbull was up to something. He seemed more smug and confident than usual.

But . . . what?

Mary awaited her, and the maid helped Amelia undress and prepare for bed. As she drew up the covers, she knew it would be hard to fall asleep with her mind racing. Once she did, she awakened several times throughout the night. The last time she tried and couldn’t go back to sleep. Frustrated, she tossed the covers aside and headed to her dressing room. As she opened the door, she heard noise on the other side.

Trumbull was in his dressing room, getting ready to go somewhere.

Amelia determined to find out where.

Quickly, she threw off her night rail and hurried to her chamber to dress in a chemise and simple gown. Her stays would be impossible to lace without Mary’s help and she knew time was of the essence. She slipped on stockings and a sturdy pair of boots and then tiptoed back to her dressing room. The noise on the other side had subsided. Creeping to her door, she opened it and stuck her head out, catching a glimpse of Trumbull strutting down the hallway. She slipped from the room and followed him downstairs and out the door, seeing he headed to the stables. Amelia stayed in the shadows of the house, noting dawn would arrive soon.

Trumbull’s phaeton awaited him. A groom attached the harnesses to the horse and then stepped aside. Trumbull climbed into the high-perch and flicked the reins lightly. The horse took off at a moderate gait, turning from the yard and heading toward the park.

She’d known from the beginning that he raced. She’d heard rumors of competitions he’d conducted, both in London and at his country estate. He’d even told her he enjoyed fast horses—along with fast women. She shuddered, wondering for the hundredth time why she’d attached herself to a man so vile. Still, curiosity urged her on and she hurried across the yard to the groom, who was still there.

“Lady Trumbull!” he cried, looking flustered.

“Your name?” she asked haughtily.

“Finch.”

“Have a horse saddled for me, Finch,” she commanded.

“Why?” he asked.

She glared as she hoped a marchioness would when an underling questioned her. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I wish to see my husband race. I think it would be a nice surprise if I showed up to cheer him on to victory.”

When his mouth gaped open, she said, “Hurry, please. I don’t want to be late. I believe the race commences at dawn.”

“It does,” the groom admitted.

“Then go. I need a horse at once.”

He fled the area and returned several minutes later, leading not one—but two—horses.

“I can’t let you ride the streets of London alone at this hour,” he said, his tone apologetic.

“All right. You may accompany me,” she agreed, knowing this servant knew of the race and where it would be held. By allowing him to come with her, it would save time.

Finch helped her to mount and swung up in the other saddle. She nudged her horse and began trotting away, allowing him to catch up to her and lead the way.

They rode in the direction of Hyde Park and entered, making their way toward Rotten Row. It was deserted of riders at this early hour but Amelia saw others gathered. Two phaetons sat side by side. Her husband perched atop one.

Derek was in the other.

So this was what Trumbull slinked off to do. He’d challenged Derek—not to a duel—but a race. She had no idea what experience Derek had with vehicles but doubted phaeton racing was popular in Northumberland. Trumbull would easily gain a victory. Was it his pride that was at stake that led him to issue a challenge to Derek?

She noticed two men inspecting the vehicles and saw one was Birdville, her husband’s lover. The other was her brother. Oliver must have helped Derek prepare for this race. That must have been the so-called business that took them both out of town at the same time.

More than anything, Amelia wanted to interrupt them and stop this nonsense. Before she could act, Oliver and Birdville had stepped away and the pair of phaetons took off.

Derek tried to steady his breathing as Merrifield and Birdville examined the phaetons. His brother-in-law had brought him to the park the last five mornings to practice driving the new phaeton. He couldn’t thank the man enough. Merrifield, who seemed to do everything with ease, had taken Derek in hand, helping him purchase a phaeton and horse specifically accustomed to drawing one. They’d retreated to an estate just north of Hampstead Heath, that of a Colonel Wallace, an old friend of Merrifield’s. The former army officer had helped in Derek’s training, both men teaching him about the light, sporty highflyers, which featured seats built high off the ground and a low-slung body, with enormous back wheels that dwarfed the two in front. The well-sprung vehicle had a tendency to tip over when a corner was turned too fast, which meant Derek had to become skilled quickly in order to drive at high speeds.

Merrifield had him practice for two days on Wallace’s land, which featured a long track, since the colonel trained horses. Once he’d become accustomed to it, they’d ventured into London well before dawn each morning to allow Derek to race there. Not knowing the course set out, he’d driven all through the park, starting at Rotten Row, the arranged meeting point. It helped that he’d always had an affinity with horses and was comfortable driving vehicles such as curricles and ones used in hunting. He’d taken to Zeus, the steed who would power his phaeton, and believed the horse liked him as well.

As Merrifield and Birdville finished their inspections, Derek went over the course in his mind. Trumbull had produced a map of it when he’d arrived. Naturally, the marquess would be more familiar with the route. Merrifield revealed that Trumbull was a noted driver among the rakish set he traveled in and that he was known for never having lost a race.

Derek planned to change that today.

The seconds stepped aside. Merrifield nodded at him confidently and mouthed, “You’ll take this.”

“Shall we?” Trumbull asked idly. “The sun is just breaking over the horizon.”

He nodded and gazed down the length of Rotten Row where, in the distance, a woman in all white stood. When signaled, Lady Rothmore was to drop a white handkerchief and the race would begin in earnest.

The marquess raised his arm and waved to her. In return, Lady Rothmore lifted her right hand. Derek spied the handkerchief in it. He drew in a sharp breath and waited, his hands taut on the reins as tension ran through his body.

She released the handkerchief and as it floated to the ground, he and Trumbull urged their horses on.

The race was on.

Chapter Twelve

The horses flew down Rotten Row, reaching the spot where Lady Rothmore had stood moments earlier. The baroness had the good sense to scurry to the side of the road before the vehicles arrived and she waved merrily at them as they swept past her.

Derek had already pulled ahead of Trumbull on the straightaway, his horse’s speed the deciding factor. Unfortunately, Trumbull had the advantage since he was closest to the first turn and was able to take it before Derek could move in front of him. The marquess’ left wheels left the ground slightly and Derek knew it would add to the man’s confidence as he was now in the lead. He followed closely behind, confident in Zeus’ ability to catch up.

A series of turns occurred and both men jockeyed for position, trading the lead several times. Adrenaline ran through him at every turn, which both men made successfully each time, though their phaetons lifted from the ground and then slammed hard when righting themselves. He clung to the reins and prayed he would maintain his balance and not be thrown from the phaeton or crash it—and suffer defeat.

Trumbull’s horse had endurance and quickness but Derek believed Zeus had slightly more stamina and the edge when it came to speed. He thought even if he rounded the last turn with Trumbull in the lead that Zeus could inch ahead and award him the victory in the end. As the sun rose higher and the men made another harrowing turn, he knew the race would soon be over.

Then, up ahead, a boy appeared in the lane, frozen to the spot as the vehicles sped toward him. The child stood directly in Derek’s path. Even above the rumble, he could hear Trumbull’s derisive laugh.

He couldn’t run over the lad. He’d never be able to live with himself if he caused the death of an innocent. Derek slowed slightly and swerved to his right, passing the soot-covered boy and trying to make up ground in order to catch Trumbull. He urged Zeus on as they approached the final corner, which fed into the straight path of Rotten Row. Even if Trumbull turned first, Derek thought he might win. It would take keeping his phaeton under control through the last corner and then a burst of speed from Zeus in order to overtake the marquess. If it all went according to plan, Derek would just be able to pass his enemy at the finish line, which was where the race had originated.

Trumbull glanced over his shoulder to see Derek’s whereabouts and then took a huge risk, cutting the corner early. His phaeton flew through the air, all four wheels leaving the ground as it went almost horizontal for a moment. Derek knew there was no way that Trumbull could right the carriage as he steered Zeus into making the turn. He rushed by the marquess and, because of that, only heard what happened next.

The sound of the phaeton slamming to the ground. The scream of the horse and a loud crunching noise. Derek pulled hard on the reins, stopping his vehicle and dropping the reins as he leaped from his high seat to the ground. He ran toward the wreck. The phaeton’s two right wheels still rotated in motion, spinning wildly. The horse’s guttural cry pierced his soul and as he reached it, he saw the creature’s front legs twisted horribly.

Then a groan sounded and Derek located Trumbull, who lay partially underneath the horse, tangled in the reins and harness. Sun struck his face and Derek saw the man’s eyes glazed and unfocused. The marquess wheezed.

He dropped to his knees and took Trumbull’s hand.

“It’s all right. We’ll get you out of here,” he said soothingly as he heard the pounding of horse’s hooves in the distance and knew Merrifield and Birdville rushed toward them.

“I . . . can’t . . . feel your hand,” Trumbull said, his tongue thick as if drunk. He wheezed again and blood bubbled from his lips and dribbled down his chin.

Looking at the position of Trumbull’s body, he believed the marquess had broken his neck. If he was fortunate to survive the horrific accident, he would be paralyzed.

And Amelia would be doomed to care for an invalid she despised.

The horses arrived and he heard others scrambling toward them.

“See? Help is here, Trumbull. Hang on,” Derek urged with false enthusiasm.

More blood poured from Trumbull’s mouth as he tried to speak. Trumbull wheezed again. He gazed at Derek with eyes that dimmed, his lips twitching in amusement.

“I suppose . . . the better man . . . won.”

He tightened his grip on the marquess’ hand and watched as the light left his eyes. They remained open, the wry smile frozen on his lips. Derek swept his palm down, closing Trumbull’s eyes for the final time, and then rose.

Merrifield and Birdville stood there, grim looks on their faces. But what surprised him was Amelia. She stood next to her brother, a groom slightly behind her.

She stepped toward him. “There’s no need for you to be involved any further, Lord Reston,” she said formally. “Trumbull never lost a race. I think it best if he were remembered that way.”

Turning to the two noblemen, she continued. “My husband bought a new phaeton and horse recently and was out testing both to make sure they were race-worthy before he competed with them. His horse’s leg snapped as they took a corner. The horse went down, causing Trumbull to lose control. A tragic accident, but one people will understand, knowing Trumbull’s love of danger and his known, risky behavior.” She swallowed. “I will go home and receive the news of this mishap. Oliver, you should be the one who comes to tell me after you fetch a doctor to see to Trumbull. Lord Birdville, you need to return with a gun and put this poor horse out of its misery. Finch, stay with Lord Trumbull while the others are away.”

“Yes, my lady,” the groom said, his eyes lowered to the ground.

Merrifield put an arm about his sister. “Birdville and I came out to watch and can testify to things.” He looked to Derek. “See that she gets home safely.”

“I’ll follow her,” he promised.

Amelia returned to her horse and Derek placed her in the saddle. He went to his phaeton and stroked Zeus’ nose before climbing onto the high perch. Taking up the reins, he waited for Amelia to canter by and he followed her back to Trumbull’s residence. Once they arrived, she paused and looked to him, biting her trembling lower lip.

“We’ll talk. Later,” he said.

She nodded and trotted away.

Derek returned to his rented townhome and drove the phaeton to the stables, where a groom greeted him.

“This is Zeus,” he told the groom. “He needs a good rubdown and an extra measure of oats.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He ventured into the house, where the kitchen staff was beginning their day, and requested hot water for a bath be sent to his chamber. His valet appeared, and Derek instructed him to go to Colonel Wallace’s at once and retrieve his belongings. Derek sank into the hot water once it was brought up, his muscles relaxing for the first time in what must be days. He fell into bed after toweling off and slept until noon.

When he arose and dressed, he found Thea had returned home from her stay at Diana’s and was full of news regarding the Marquess of Trumbull’s horrific accident. His sister looked at him expectantly but Derek felt too weary to converse. Instead, he excused himself and remained in his study the rest of the day.

Late that afternoon, the butler appeared, carrying a tray with a note from Amelia. In it, she explained that she would be taking her husband’s body to Trumbull Hall for burial and asked that he and Thea accompany Oliver and Diana to the estate for the funeral, which would be held the day after tomorrow. He gave his response to the butler and went to tell his sister that they would be attending Trumbull’s funeral as extended members of the family.

They left early the next afternoon, traveling with Merrifield and Diana. Amelia had gone ahead with her husband’s body. The four dined alone that night, the housekeeper telling them that Lady Trumbull had requested a tray in her room.

They attended the funeral the next morning in the chapel on the Trumbull estate. Amelia looked pale against the black of her mourning clothes. The small group, which included the Duke of Durham and a man Derek didn’t recognize, went to the graveyard, where the casket was lowered into the ground. Durham took Amelia’s arm and escorted her back to the hall, where they gathered in the drawing room.

The stranger came and introduced himself to them.

“I’m Adam Ashbury, cousin to Trumbull and only nephew of His Grace.”

Derek realized this man was now the Marquess of Trumbull and destined to be the next Duke of Durham since Trumbull had no brothers.

As Thea spoke with Ashbury, Derek watched Amelia, deep in conversation with her father-in-law. She smiled graciously at him and shook her head emphatically. Durham kept pressing some point but Amelia wouldn’t give in. Finally, the duke strode angrily from the room and Derek took the opportunity to join her.

He clasped her hands. “I hope you are well. And that Durham didn’t upset you.”

“He wanted me to wed his nephew. Adam Ashbury now owns Trumbull Hall and is the new marquess. Durham thought it would be convenient if I became Ashbury’s wife.”

“And you said no?” Hope rose within him.

Amelia gripped his hands. “Would you expect anything less?” She smiled gently. “I love you, Derek. I always have. My heart is with you—unless you have changed your mind.”

Relief poured through him. “Give me the number of days you’ll be in mourning and the one that follows the last will be the day we marry.” He smiled at her. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Amelia. We both made mistakes, critical ones, but we are free to be together now. I vow we will always speak openly and honestly with one another, from the heart. I never want another misunderstanding between us.”

“Obtain a special license,” she said. “Society will expect me to withdraw from the rest of the Season. We can be quietly wed this week after I return from Trumbull Hall. By the time the next Season comes around, it will already be done.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I can wait until—”

“I refuse to wait, Derek,” she said, her penetrating blue eyes shining with love. For him. “We’ve already wasted so much time and been apart far too long. Let’s wed at Oliver and Diana’s townhome once I return and go straight to Esterley Castle.”

Warmth spread through him. “I only wish I could kiss you now, but I’m afraid that might cause a scandal. Not knowing Ashbury, I feel it’s better to be discreet.”

He released her hands. “We’re supposed to leave now. But would you like for Thea to stay and return with you?”

Amelia smiled. “Yes. I’d like that. Let me speak to her and Diana about our plans.”

Derek rejoined Merrifield and Ashbury as the three women spoke quietly together. He noticed Ashbury’s gaze kept straying toward them and jealousy rippled through him, knowing Durham had wanted his nephew and Amelia to wed. For all he knew, it could have been Ashbury’s idea to claim his cousin’s widow and have her remain Lady Trumbull, albeit with a different husband. He tried to calm himself knowing, even now, Amelia made arrangements to wed him.

“May I ask you something personal, Lord Reston?” Ashbury asked.

He looked at the new marquess. “Yes?”

“I haven’t seen your sister at any ton events this year. Has Lady Thea made her come-out?”

Suddenly, Derek realized the man’s glances had nothing to do with Amelia—and everything to do with Thea. He almost laughed aloud.

“She was to have done so but then unfortunately broke her leg. The plaster has only recently been removed. She’ll make her come-out next spring instead.”

“I see,” said Ashbury, looking thoughtful.

Derek’s eyes met Merrifield’s and he saw amusement in his brother-in-law’s gaze.

“Will you be staying at Trumbull Hall now, Lord Trumbull?” Merrifield asked.

“Not immediately. I plan to move in once the Season ends. Please, Lord Merrifield, don’t worry about your sister. She may stay here as long as she chooses. This is her home.”

“She and your cousin were married a very short time,” Merrifield said. “Amelia has expressed her desire to leave Trumbull Hall and the marquess’ London residence and return to my household.”

The women joined them and Diana said, “We must be off, Oliver. Derek will journey home with us now, while Thea will return with Amelia sometime tomorrow.”

As his sister spoke, Derek noticed Ashbury looking surreptitiously at Thea and repressed a grin. He offered his hand to the new Lord Trumbull. “It was a pleasure to meet you, my lord. I’m sorry it was under such poor circumstances.”

Trumbull shook hands with him. “I hope we can become more familiar with one another once we’re back in London.” He shook Merrifield’s hand, as well. “I also hope to see more of you, my lord.”

“Perhaps next Season,” Derek replied. “We’ll be returning to Northumberland soon and won’t be back until next spring.”

He turned and saw Amelia bite back a smile.

The group adjourned to the front yard, where Merrifield’s carriage awaited them. A groom brought Lord Trumbull’s horse, and he mounted it and gave them all a friendly wave, while he bestowed a lingering smile upon Thea.

As the marquess rode away, Derek mentioned he’d forgotten something and Amelia offered to return to the house with him to retrieve it. They entered the hall, and he laced his fingers through hers, drawing her into a small receiving room to the left and closing the door. Alone for the first time since their night together, he captured her waist and his mouth descended on hers in a long, passionate kiss. Amelia’s hands entwined behind his neck, drawing him to her until their bodies touched.

He knew as they kissed that he would never get enough of this woman.

His woman.

Derek broke the kiss but rested his forehead against hers, savoring her floral perfume.

“When I kiss you,” he said, “a fire ignites within me. All-consuming. My one thought is of you and how much I need you.”

Amelia’s soft lips touched his in a reverent kiss and then she said, “I know what it is to be without you—bound to another—and I swear now that I have you, you’re all I’ll ever want in this world.”

He gave her one swift, hard kiss and then released her. “We’d better go outside. I’m sure the others are wondering where we are.”

“Let them,” she said recklessly and kissed him again.

Derek would have loved to spend the rest of the day with his lips against hers, but he pulled away.

“If you don’t let me leave, how can I purchase our special license?” he teased.

She playfully shoved her palms against his chest, separating them. “Then leave at once, Lord Reston. I’ve found I’m very impatient when it comes to having you.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. “Your wish is my command, my love.”

Epilogue

Amelia let Diana and Thea fuss over her. The two women had dismissed Mary and prepared Amelia for her wedding on their own. It would take place in the next few minutes downstairs in her brother’s London townhome. Although she would have preferred being married at Merrimore, going there would have meant further delays.

She would not tolerate anything that kept her from her beloved.

Diana placed a new necklace around Amelia’s throat, one of sapphires and diamonds that Derek had gifted her with yesterday. He’d told her how beautiful she looked in blue and had asked her to wear it on their wedding day. Thea handed her the teardrop earrings with the same gems and Amelia put them on. Thea gave her a hand mirror and Amelia saw how blue her eyes looked now.

She’d left behind the earrings Trumbull had given her for their wedding, as well as the pearl necklace and earrings, which he’d revealed he won in a card game. In her note to the new Lord Trumbull, she told him she wished to return the family jewels. She hadn’t mentioned to him—or the Duke of Durham—her plans to wed so soon after she’d become a widow.

A soft knock sounded at the door and Thea admitted Lady Merrick, looking lovely in pale lilac, her raven hair swept up and piled high atop her head. She and Lord Merrick, Oliver’s closest friends, were the only guests today beyond family. Diana and Thea excused themselves to head downstairs.

“I had to come and see you before you spoke your vows,” Lady Merrick said. “Looking at how you radiate happiness, I can tell this marriage is the one of your heart.”

“It is, Lady Merrick.”

“Please, call me Rachel. We’ve known each other so long.”

“I would like that. Thank you.”

“Lord Reston is the man you love. I won’t ask why you chose to wed Trumbull, but my advice is to put aside all memories of him. Let everything begin anew for you today.”

“It will. I come to Derek a virgin,” she confided.

Rachel’s eyebrows shot up and then her features relaxed. “Then it truly is your first marriage. Merely living with Trumbull and bearing his name for a short time never made you his wife.” She embraced Amelia, kissing both of her cheeks. “I wish you all the happiness you deserve.”

A sharp rapping sounded on the door and Rachel said, “That’s Merrifield’s impatient knock.” She answered it and ushered him in, blowing Amelia a kiss as she left.

Her brother smiled at her, taking her hands in his. “You’ve always been beautiful, Amelia, but never more so than at this moment. You wear your happiness well.”

“I’m fortunate that I have a second chance today. At marriage. And love.”

“Your groom is waiting. Shall we?”

Taking her hand, he slipped it through the crook of his arm and escorted her downstairs. They entered the drawing room, where the ceremony would take place. Colin gave her a wink, and she smiled at her brother. They’d had a long conversation last night, and she’d told him why everything was so wrong with her first marriage—and how this one would be more than right.

Colin stood with Lord and Lady Merrick, and she noted both looked pleased, very different from their countenances when she’d wed Trumbull. Diana and Thea were the only others present and both women, like sisters to her, wiped away tears of joy as they watched Oliver guide them toward the clergyman.

And Derek.

Amelia finally gazed upon her groom, so tall and lean, his thick, dark, unruly hair tamed for the occasion. Her heart nearly burst with all the love she felt for this wonderful man, who would make the best husband and father. Oliver handed her off to Derek and his large hands swallowed hers, bringing warmth to her soul as her eyes misted with tears.

They spoke their vows with confidence, gazing at one another in love, knowing how close they’d come to being separated for decades. Amelia hated that Trumbull had gone to his death by taking a dangerous risk to claim victory. But with his passing, it gave her and Derek the opportunity to share a life together.

The minister pronounced them husband and wife and Derek cradled her face in his hands as he gave her a lingering kiss, the first of their marriage. Amelia drank him in, tasting his goodness and strength—and his immense love for her.

When he finally broke the kiss, she saw tears glimmering in his eyes.

“Lady Reston, I love you today and will for all of our tomorrows.”

Amelia smiled at hearing herself addressed as his wife. “I rather like being called Lady Reston,” she admitted.

A devilish smile played about his lips. “Oh, I will find many ways to address you, my love. My darling. My wife and my life. Come. The sooner the breakfast ends, the sooner I can worship every inch of that lovely body.”

“Lord Reston, I do believe you’ve made your wife blush,” she teased.

“I will do more than make you blush, sweetheart,” he promised. “I will have you writhing beneath me, calling out my name, begging for more.”

Amelia gave her new husband a saucy smile. “More . . . of what?”

Derek laughed. “You’ll see. We’ve got a lifetime of more ahead of us. Now, let’s go live it.”

And they did.

About the Author

Award-winning and international bestselling author Alexa Aston’s historical romances use history as a backdrop to place her characters in extraordinary circumstances, where their intense desire for one another grows into the treasured gift of love.

She is the author of Medieval and Regency romance, including The Knights of Honor, The King’s Cousins, The St Clairs, and The de Wolfes of Esterley Castle.

A native Texan, Alexa lives with her husband in a Dallas suburb, where she eats her fair share of dark chocolate and plots out stories while she walks every morning. She enjoys reading, Netflix binge-watching, and can’t get enough of Survivor, The Crown, or Game of Thrones.

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