Her knock on his study door was crisp and short. “Papa?”
“Enter.”
She set both her jaw and her shoulders before opening the door. She had to be completely in control if she wished to convince her father to call off the ridiculous engagement.
He was standing behind the desk when she stepped inside. Her heart hammered as she rehearsed her arguments. She had many. And he would certainly see reason.
“Sit, Amelia.” His presence was commanding, but there was an air of awkwardness about the two of them. There always seemed to be whenever they were alone, which wasn’t really surprising seeing as they hardly knew each other. Certainly, they were familiar—the man’s face before her was as familiar as her own in some ways. The steely blue eyes, graying hair, and firm jaw. But at the same time, he was entirelyunfamiliar. Since her mother’s death seven years before, they hadn’t had a single personal conversation.
She sat in the seat he indicated and opened her mouth to begin her convincing.
He cut her off with a raised hand as he lowered himself to his chair. “I am certain you wish to dissuade me of my decision regarding your marriage to Lord Norwich, but I will not be moved. You will marry Lord Norwich at the end of the week.”
So soon?Her mouth nearly fell open, but she snapped her teeth together to prevent that unladylike gesture. Frantically, she searched for a thought.
“Papa, please, you must see the folly in this.”
Her desperation was not as masked as she would have liked, and he closed his eyes in seeming frustration.
“Surely you do not think I would take the marriage of one of my children lightly, Amelia. I have thought this through. It is the best course of action for you and our family, and I think it is a marriage your mother would have been pleased with. You will marry Lord Norwich.”
“But his reputation—”
“Will be more of an issue for you if you donotmarry him than if you do.” His tone was clipped, resolute.
“It was not my fault, Papa. I did nothing wrong. Please, do not make me marry him.” She’d dropped all pretense of staid confidence and could have been on her knees for all she cared.
His eyes softened marginally, but his words were blunt. “That is not true, Amelia. You left our home with no maid. That alone is enough to cause a scandal.” He sighed heavily. “In all truth, I am unhappy, Amelia. I am unhappy you acted so unbefitting of your station, and I am unhappy to now find it necessary for you to marry the man. But you yourself created this situation, and youwillrectify it by marrying Lord Norwich. There is no choice in the matter. I only called you in here to tell you the marriage will take place on Saturday, and a dressmaker will be here this afternoon so you need not leave the house before your wedding. Your mother would have wanted you to have a proper wedding dress.”
The fight fled from Amelia as quickly as a complicated trill on the pianoforte might leave her fingertips. He was right. As much as she wished it otherwise, she had made poor choices leading to her current situation. She nodded and clasped her hands in her lap. “Yes, Papa. Was there anything else?”
He sighed—a wearied sound. She couldn’t meet his eyes but settled her gaze on his cravat.
“Just know that this is the best option for you, Amelia. I do this for you and your reputation.” He paused, watching out the window to the busy London street beyond. “In truth, Amelia, you were always to be at a disadvantage. With the dresses you wear and the scars beneath, you were not likely to catch a man’s eye for anything beyond your standing. This is your chance at a commendable future, and though it is not what either of us envisioned, you ought to consider yourself blessed. With any luck, he will not know about your scars until after your vows are said. It’s a gift you’ve been given. Take it.”
That was that then.
“Very well, Papa.” A hurried curtsy that was more a jerk than a true dip was all she could manage before she fled the room. She did not wish for an audience when the tears fell from their gathering spots in the corners of her eyes.
That afternoon, the dressmaker arrived. The woman intended an incredible creation of snow-white silk and a considerable amount of lace flounces for Amelia’s wedding gown. Thankfully, those plans were halted by the knowledge that the wedding was in four days.
“Oh, dear. Oh, dear, dear, dear.” The dressmaker flitted about, her hands waving at her side dramatically, while Amelia leaned against a post of her bed. She was tired. The fight that had left her after her father had insisted on the marriage seemed to have taken her energy along with it.
“I do not need a new gown, Madame. I have plenty that will suffice.”
The woman’s look of horror clashed greatly with her cheerily painted cheeks.
“Suffice! Suffice will certainly not do for yourwedding day, my dear! Most certainly not for the daughter of a duke! Suffice—psh!” She bustled about again, and Amelia sighed.
She did not wish to disappoint the dressmaker, but she desired a new, gaudy gown in her wardrobe even less than she desired an extendedtête-à-têtewith Edith. Nor did she have any wish to impress the overconfident, ridiculous Lord Norwich. But the woman plainly meant to make an impression on the duke’s household, and Amelia felt she’d be cruel to hamper those aspirations.
The plump dressmaker spun about, lifting Amelia’s arm and studying her figure once more.
“Actually, I believe I have found the solution! I have a nearly completed cream silk pelisse, quite impressive, that could be paired with a simple white silk morning dress, which I could have created in no time at all. It is not nearly as grand as I would wish. But with the time constraints...” The woman seemed unsure, tapping her lip unconsciously while her gaze ran up and down Amelia’s person.
“That sounds wonderful. Far closer to my tastes, and I am certain it will be a stunning ensemble. Only, the neckline.”
“Yes?” The woman blinked at her.
