“And take Miss Brooks with you.”
Edith shot an annoyed look back at her friend, but the woman appeared only relieved. Gone was every ounce of superiority or pride. This was a woman who knew the power of a duke. And who clearly knew she was on the darker receiving end of such influence. Edward almost pitied her.
Almost.
The doors closed behind the two women, and Edward thought he heard His Grace sigh under his breath. When he turned back to Edward and Amelia, there was a crease between his brows and a weariness in his eyes.
“I cannot even begin to understand the mess that has unfolded this night,” he said, his gaze on Edward. But then it shifted to Amelia and softened. “But I am certain much of it is connected to my failings as a father.”
Edward did not hear Amelia’s sharp intake of breath, but standing as close to her as he was, he felt it in the sudden rise of her shoulders. He was similarly shocked. He’d expected His Grace to say any number of things. Not a one had beenthat, though.
Before Amelia seemed to gather her thoughts, the duke continued. “And for that, I must apologize, Amelia. I have not been the father to you that I ought to have been—nor, would it seem, have I done any better with Edith or Henrietta. Your mother would be ashamed at the role I have played in your lives.”
“No, Papa, surely...” Amelia trailed off, either unsure what to say or unwilling.
His Grace shook his head, his commanding frame wholly at odds with the regretful action. “Why don’t we sit a moment?”
“But the ball. Do you not need to—”
“The servants are well equipped to see to everything for the time being. There are some things I must say, and then I need to handle this mess your sister has created. Please, let us sit.”
Edward waited for Amelia to move first, then followed her to a grouping of comfortable-looking couches and chairs near the large windows at the back of the library. The room was rather dim, with few lamps lit, and the discomfort between the different parties in the group was palpable.
Once seated, His Grace wasted no time. He folded his hands in his lap and speared them both with a stiff gaze. Edward felt sure they were about to be reprimanded for something. “I am surprised you are here, Amelia. When last I inquired of your housekeeper, she said you were quite ill.”
Amelia cocked her head. “What do you mean? You sent me a letter... Oh.”
“It was Edith,” Edward supplied, when His Grace looked a question at him. “Amelia received a letter from you that was insistent on her coming. I imagine Edith simply wished to be able to enact her grand finale here.”
Thunderclouds gathered in the duke’s eyes, and he raised a hand to rub his temples. “Another thing I will speak with her about, then. But you are well?”
Edward looked at Amelia, as interested in her answer as her father was.
She tilted her head slightly to each side, in neither a positive or negative response. “I am well enough. I imagine my full strength will return within the week.”
Edward ground his teeth. The risks, both emotional and physical, that Amelia’s sister had heaped upon her were enormous.
The duke was silent, watching his daughter with a veiled expression. “You are very like your mother, Amelia.”
Amelia’s eyes widened at that.
“In nearly every way. From your appearance to your aptitude for music to your fiery personality.”
This time it must have been Edward who appeared shocked, for His Grace looked at him and chuckled slightly. “Yes, I am well aware of Amelia’s inner fire.” His eyes shifted to Amelia. “Though you are quite adept at hiding it. Your mother was that way as well.”
“I did not know that,” Amelia said, a small hint of wonder audible in her voice.
His Grace nodded, smiling a little, but then he sobered. “I think that is where my failings began, though. You were quite her miniature even when she died, and I admit that as you grew to be more and more like her, I found it difficult to be... well...”
“Around me,” Amelia finished, with a finality to her words.
His Grace had the thoughtfulness to at least appear ashamed. “Yes. I know it is quite terrible. Horrible of a father. Unforgivable. Your mother was always the far superior parent. When she died, I was lost. But I comforted myself knowing I had chosen an ideal governess and surrounded you with all the wealth and necessities that you might need. The servants adored you, and I believed you would be better off without me.”
“I wasn’t. I needed my family.”
Edward was proud of this admission of hers—it must have cost her greatly to give those words up willingly. Personal truth was a hard thing for her to share. At least, when not provoked by him.
His Grace ducked his head. “I know. If I could change my actions, I would certainly do so. But I cannot. I can only apologize.” He fell silent, watching Amelia.
