“Was he not wonderful?” Amelia cooed.
“Clearly a man of good taste,” her stepmother added. “Not one to rush at the first entrée on offer. If so, he might have asked for your hand.” She laughed as if it were the most absurd thing of all time.
“He has been so sweet to me,” Amelia continued. “And I just know how happy he will make me.”
Lucy was struck by an extreme crisis of conscience. One that she did not know how to placate.
On the one hand, she thought it best to say nothing. Her stepsister was clearly enamored, this marriage would go ahead regardless of what Lucy said, so why make things worse? Just be glad that she was not the one marrying her and be done with it.
On the other hand…
Amelia is like me in so many ways. A victim of our parents, never truly having a say in anything, and always used like pawns on a chessboard. I wonder if Amelia feels anything for the man, or if she has just been told how to feel. Does she even know the difference?
With that in mind, Lucy came to a decision. A foolish one, she knew. But it was also right.
“There is something I need to say.” She spoke levelly and was sure that her expression was one of sympathy. “And please, do not think I say this out of malice or spite or envy. All I want for you, Amelia, is to be happy. Please, believe that.”
“What is it you wish to say?” Her stepmother almost looked pleased, as if she knew what Lucy was about to announce.
“I mentioned just now that I have met Lord Wembley, and while that single instance was brief, it was enough for me to…” She sighed. “It was enough that I know the type of man who he is, Amelia. Just as I know that he is not nearly good enough for you.”
Amelia leaned back. “What does that mean?”
“He is not honorable. He is not kind. When we spoke, he came across as a man who sees women as prizes to be won, tools to be used, and nothing about him suggested that he had so much as a romantic bone in his body.”
Amelia gasped. “How could you say that?”
“I am merely trying to help you, Amelia. That is all. I only want you to be happy and I know that such happiness will not be found with Lord Wembley. It cannot possibly be.”
“You do not know him at all!”
“I know him well enough. Please, Amelia.” She tried to take her stepsister’s hand, but it was refused. “You can do so much better, and you deserve so much better. Do not make this mistake because you will spend the rest of your life regretting it.”
Amelia’s upper lip curled into a snarl. “You were right, Mother. About everything.”
Lucy’s stepmother sighed. “I told you so, did I not? How jealous she would be.”
“You did.”
“What?” Lucy looked between them. “Jealous? I am not jealous.”
“You are,” Amelia sneered. “Just as Mother said you would be. Oh, we all know the type of man whoyoumarried, Lucy. Everyone does! And just because you are not happy does not mean you have to make everybody else miserable.”
“I am not doing that at all!” Lucy cried. “I am only trying to help!”
“Help yourself, you mean!” Amelia cried. “You think that you are so much better. A duchess. Ha! I would rather be unwed and live alone than married to His Grace.”
“Amelia, please!”
“You have always hated me,” she continued. “Just as Mother said.”
“I am disappointed in you, Lucy,” her stepmother sighed. “Here we are, trying to build bridges and make amends for past mistakes. I admit, I was not always easy on you as a child. And yet, the moment you see a chance to attack and drag down your sweet sister, you cannot help yourself.”
“That is not what I am doing!” Lucy looked pleadingly between them. “Lord Wembley is –”
“Twice the man your husband is,” Amelia sneered.
“No!”
