“They’re just playing,” Nancy assured.
She patted Tiny on his flank, and he removed his mouth, yawning heavily. At once, Dust shoved his headback intothe dog’s mouth, which Tiny bore with fortitude.
Well, that’s a first.
“See?” Nancy beamed. “They’re just friends. Friends, like Stephen and Amelia.”
“Friends,” Tristan murmured, highly amused. “I can assure you that friends do not look at each other the wayyoulooked ather.”
Stephen threw his friend a sour glare and was rewarded with a wide, beaming smile. Tristan seemed to be having an excellent day.
“After all,” he added, when it was clear that no response was forthcoming, “you and I are friends, and I can assure you thatwehave never exchanged such an intense look. Much to our mutual relief, of course.”
Stephen judged it prudent not to respond at that moment.
Madeline didn’t rush to speak on the way to the orangery. She made occasional comments about the flowers and plants they passed. When Amelia offered her arm, Madeline took it with relief, offering a grateful smile.
“Pregnancy is not an easy business,” she said, sighing. “Some women seem to float through it without batting an eye. Not me.”
“I remember when my mother was pregnant with my sisters,” Amelia admitted. “She found it difficult.”
And my father did not visit when she was pregnant. I’m sure it wasn’t deliberate; he wasn’t that kind of man. I believe thathe simply couldn’t get away more frequently. But she was so frightened, so vulnerable, and so alone. It was not fair.
But fairness was neither here nor there. Fairness was a pleasant concept, often ignored, much like justice and mercy. That was a hard lesson that Amelia had learned long ago.
She glanced down and found Madeline looking up at her curiously.
“It’s just down here,” Madeline said, and they took a narrower path toward the glass-paned building that was their destination.
The doors were open, and the warm breeze carried the scent of oranges along with it. Madeline breathed deeply, tilting back her head and closing her eyes.
“We don’t have an orangery on our property,” she said. “I never cared excessively for oranges before, so I suppose we never saw the need to build one, but now that I’m with child, I crave them with a passion. Tristan buys me oranges, of course, crates and crates of them. And I eat them in horrendous quantities. But it’s the smell I long for, and there’s nothing quite like the smell of an orangery.”
They stepped into the building, where warm air and the scent of citrus crashed over them. Madeline sighed, releasing Amelia’s arm at last and stepping away, holding out her arms.
“Papa bought me oranges when I was a little girl,” she murmured, eyes still closed. “They were more expensive then. They are still expensive now, of course, but less so, I think.”
Amelia allowed herself a small smile. “We could never afford them. Our family was poorer than yours.”
Madeline opened her eyes, staring at her. “Holt. That is a familiar name.”
“And a common one,” Amelia responded calmly. “I do not believe we have been acquainted.”
“No, we haven’t. Amelia, I… I brought you here so that we could talk. I hope you don’t think that I am overstepping the bounds of politeness, nor do I wish you to feel uncomfortable. But you seem kind, and you clearly adore your sisters. I am afraid you are not… safe.”
Amelia let out a long breath, composing herself. She twisted her fingers together in front of her stomach, tugging hard in an effort to ground herself.
“I am not the Duke’s mistress, if that is what you are thinking,” she said. “But you were kind to me even when you thought I was.”
“I—”
“No, I know what you were thinking. I know what everyone will be thinking. But I am telling the truth. I am not his mistress. I’ll never be a man’s mistress, not so long as I live.” She paused, meeting Madeline’s eyes. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” Madeline answered simply. “Of course, Tristan thinks I am a little too naive, and I suppose I do have a tendency to believe most of the things that I am told, perhaps a little too easily. But I believeyou, Amelia.”
Amelia’s shoulders relaxed. She couldn’t even remember when she had tensed them, but at some point, they had hunched up beneath her ears, pressing in around her neck. She smoothed them out carefully, forcing herself to relax, muscle by muscle. Tension would do nobody any good.
“I’m glad,” she confessed. “As I said, I am aware of how this looks.”
