She didn’t care, really.
She’d cared before. She’d wanted to make everyone happy. She’d wanted to do everything she was supposed to do.
But in living for others, for her mother and father, trying to please everyone around her, she’d been living an illusion. She’d almost convinced herself she liked it that way.
If Mr. Beckworth hadn’t stopped her father’s carriage that day, would she have ever broken free? Or would she have floated along in a cloud of ignorance, allowing her parents to make the most important decisions of her life?
Two gentle raps on the door stirred Amelia enough to turn around.
“Yes?” she called.
When it opened, Clementine’s face appeared, and Amelia was able to summon a weak smile.
“I just wanted to look in on you,” Clem said and, after searching Amelia’s eyes, tilted her head. “You are going to be all right, you know. Even if your father… Well. There’s still hope.” But she couldn’t hide her concern.
For Clementine, Amelia would make an effort. She would… care. Oddly enough, she felt numb to her father’s disappearance. She ought to be devastated, but—he’d betrayed her. He’d betrayed all of them.
And yet, Mr. Beckworth’s betrayal hurt more.
“I know,” she said. And then she added, “It’s just… It’s a lot to take in.”
Clem nodded. “Perhaps we can ride together tomorrow,” she said. “You can tell me all about your time with Mr. Beckworth. He’s rather handsome, in a rugged kind of way, isn’t he?”
It was a curious thing for her cousin to say.
“I didn’t think married women noticed those sorts of things.” Amelia narrowed her eyes just a little, half teasing. Did Clementine know? But she couldn’t possibly.
Clem had stepped inside but still held the door open. “He’s nothing like my Benjamin, but… you were alone with him for several days. I just wondered if perhaps…”
“No.” Amelia immediately disabused her of the notion. She couldn’t talk about this now—not when Miss Henrietta was returning any moment.
Not after that goodbye.
“Right.” Clem dropped her gaze to the floor, but then looked up again. “Dinner will be delivered to our chambers. And… If you need me—for anything—I’m right next door.” She pointed over her shoulder.
Amelia nodded. “Thank you. And… I would like to ride with you, if your husband doesn’t mind.” And she meant it. In that moment, Clementine might be her only lifeline.
“He won’t.” Those two words conveyed a great deal about Clementine’s relationship with Lord Winterhope. And although Amelia was happy for her, it managed to double her own pain.
“Good,” Amelia said.
Clem hesitated a few more seconds. “Well, good night, then.”
“Good night.” The door closed again, and without Clementine to warm the room, that coldness returned. As much as Amelia tried to find some good in all of this, she couldn’t.
Because it all felt wrong. She was moving backwards, being sucked into a dark and powerful void.
She inhaled as much air as she could, only vaguely aware of the door opening again.
“Right this way.” Miss Henrietta was back, leading a handful of inn workers into the chamber. “Put it over there, adjacent to the privacy screen.” Before the door had even closed behind them, the lady’s maid was pulling out Amelia’s nightrail and dressing gown, along with a few toiletries.
She was so very efficient. Amelia vaguely acknowledged that if she truly had been kidnapped, Miss Henrietta would have made for an excellent prison guard.
“Dinner will arrive shortly. Lord Winterhope says that the less you and Lady Foxbourne are seen in public, the safer you will be.” She carefully laid out the two garments and brushed her hands together. “So I suppose it’s all right for you to change out of that gown. If I run a wet cloth over it and hang it up overnight, I’ll be able to pack it properly in the morning.”
Amelia rose and, having done this a thousand times before, crossed the room and turned so Miss Henrietta could begin to unfasten the gown.
The prospect of being freed from the corset was the only solace Amelia could find in that moment. She’d had it on for less than half a day and her lungs felt starved, her back ached, and her waist pinched.
