“Not with a man so easily seduced,” Jane murmured. “It’s every woman’s nightmare, isn’t it? If you’re unwed, you have a measure of freedom if you can escape censure. But once you’rewed to a man, you’re bound to him. He can have a thousand mistresses under your roof if he chooses, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Stephen wouldn’t do that,” Amelia shot back.
But even as she said it, unease crept into the back of her mind.
Jane had described him aseasily seduced. Well, she’d done very little to entice him. Surely it couldn’t simply be that he was attracted toher, an ordinary seamstress with no birth and an ordinary beauty? Didn’t it make more sense to think that he was simply a man who took an opportunity when it came his way?
Bile rose to the back of her throat.
“You fancy him, don’t you?” she heard herself ask, her voice raw with jealousy. “Why should I trust you? You want the Duke for yourself.”
Jane sighed. “I imagine that I could have spent time with him if I had wished, Miss Holt. He’s not the kind of man I’d care to marry. And he shouldn’t be yours, either.”
Amelia flinched back, almost as if she’d been slapped. “You can’t say that.”
Jane sighed again, taking a tentative step forward. “If you want to escape, Miss Holt, I can help you. Iwantto help you. In truth, I think you deserve better. I’d like to see you do better.”
Amelia said nothing. She wasn’t sure that she could have spoken if her life depended on it.
Jane bit her lip, glancing away. “I think I’m finished here, Miss Holt,” she murmured, and it took Amelia a moment to understand that she meant the dusting. She left without another word, leaving Amelia alone.
About an hour had passed by the time Amelia realized she had to do something. Scrambling up from the bed, wrinkling the sheets in her wake, she left her room, her heart pounding.
By her calculations, dinner would be long over by now. People would have retired to their rooms. Stephen might well be in his room, as she knew he preferred to take a glass of port in his private parlor rather than in the large drawing room.
She would tell him what Jane had said—she wouldn’t be cruel enough to name the maid, of course, as that would likely get her dismissed—and see what he had to say. Perhaps he would reassure her, or perhaps he would admit to a propensity for philandering.
It wouldn’t be a surprise, would it? Lots of men in the ton kept mistresses, opera singers, and so on. Why not? They were allowed. Their wives could not play around, but men could do as they liked.Richmen could do as they liked.
For the first time, Amelia stretched her mind beyond her mother’s feelings, past her father’s, and all the way to her father’s wife, the Viscountess.
She was not someone they had ever discussed. Her father, of course, had never mentioned her during his visits. Her mama never mentioned her existence, because to do so would be to admit the impossible—that she was a fallen woman, a man’s mistress, with no more legal right to him than a stranger on the street. No, impossible.
The Viscountess had been alive when her father met her mama. She had been alive through the births of Amelia and her sisters. She was dead now, or so Amelia thought. She’d never met the woman, never heard her name mentioned.
Perhaps my brother adored his mother. Perhaps that’s why he hates us so much.
She swallowed hard. In all her imaginings of the future, she’d put herself in her mama’s place. She would be the woman who gave it all up for love, a tragic beauty. Now, she imagined herself in the Viscountess’ place, a scorned woman, powerless and humiliated.
I can’t live that way. I won’t be either of those women.
She reached Stephen’s hallway, and her heart pounded even harder. Perhaps he would laugh at her. Perhaps he would dismiss her. Perhaps he would lie.
The door was closed, not ajar as it had been before. She lifted a hand to knock, and a voice clearly echoed from inside. She froze.
“Oh,” a woman gasped, clearly in the throes of delight. “Oh, yes!”
It was Jane.Jane.
Amelia dropped her hand at once, understanding crashing over her. She didn’t even need to hear the name that came next.
“Oh,Stephen!”
Amelia pressed a hand to her mouth, stepping back.
Jane is in there. Jane and Stephen, together.
The image her mind conjured—Stephen kissingJanelike he had kissed her, touchingJanelike he had touched her—hurt more than anything she’d ever endured. There was a giggle from inside the room, and that was the last straw.
