“She was born for this,” Samuel murmured after a moment.

  “Who?”

  “Your wife. Look at her. Charming all she meets. She presumes nothing and gains approval, one introduction at a time.”

  Milo didn’t answer but continued to study his wife from afar while he sipped more champagne. She appeared to have no difficulty speaking with anyone she met. But he was keenly aware he wasn’t the only gentleman watching her.

  He set his drink aside and began to circulate again, Samuel close by his side. Milo kept a distance and an eye on who Amelia spoke with.

  He didn’t want to admit Samuel might be right, but he was. This was what he’d hoped for all along. Amelia was made for this life. His first wife had seemed to be, too. She’d charmed and flirted her way into many a gentleman’s arms and beds.

  Milo studied Amelia’s interactions carefully…and wondered at what point he’d lose her, too. He looked away, more troubled than he should be over that possibility.

  “She really hasn’t changed,” Samuel noted. “Confident and yet vulnerable, too. You should go to her.”

  “No.”

  He’d hovered about his first wife and that had not done any good for their marriage.

  Samuel glanced his way, frowning. “She’ll find her feet faster with you by her side.”

  Milo collected another glass of champagne and downed it immediately. “I watched over my first wife, and it did me no favors,” he reminded Samuel.

  “That was not your fault,” he promised. “Amelia would never betray you.”

  As he watched his wife, he noticed the hounds of society drawing closer, some who’d played a part in breaking his first marriage. Usually, he avoided them. Tonight, he considered warning them off. It hadn’t done any good last time.

  He wanted to believe Amelia would be different. But he had once believed in love and that had nearly ruined him.

  “If she craves more than me…” He left the rest unsaid. “Well, there are no guarantees in a marriage, are there.”

  “No,” Samuel agreed after a moment. Then Rafferty joined them, bringing a round of drinks more suited to his taste to their corner of the room, and the discussion about going to his wife ended.

  Yet Milo’s head full of dread for the uncertain future ahead. He wanted to believe in Amelia and the vows she’d spoken, but tonight, too much reminded him of how his first marriage had begun.

  Soon other gentlemen joined them and his new marriage was toasted again and again, until the hours seemed to blur together.

  Eventually, Father joined the group, but only to bid them all a good night.

  Milo refused to acknowledge him, as the duke had done to Amelia all night.

  When the crowds parted, he spotted Amelia standing alone with Dunstan and listening intently to something he said. Dunstan put his hand on her arm—and Milo was moving before he realized it.

  Amelia seemed so surprised by his arrival that he felt compelled to prove who she belonged to. He jerked her into his arms while he glared daggers at Dunstan. “I suggest you find your own wife and leave mine to me.”

  “Mine has gone to bed,” Dunstan complained

  Milo raised a brow. “Then I suggest you join her there.”

  “But it would be impolite to leave someone so beautiful alone.”

  Amelia struggled to be free of his arms. “He was telling me of my new home.”

  “He’s never been there,” Milo told her.

  “Well, that is not exactly true. The late Lady Chatham sheltered me many a night on my way through Devon. Such a generous hostess.”

  Milo’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

  Dunstan’s smile grew smug and then he reached for Amelia’s hand. “Well, my dear, I’m afraid I must leave you in your husband’s capable hands tonight. I look forward to meeting you some other time.”

  Milo ground his teeth as Amelia wished him good night. He was too angry for speech. Dunstan had been another of his wife’s lovers, and right under his very nose, too. And now it seemed he’d set his wicked sights on Amelia.

  Dunstan strode off, but not upstairs.

  Amelia faced him. “Chatham, I am so sorry. I had no idea.”

  “Stay away from him,” he growled. “He’s but one thing on his mind. Just like the rest.”

  “Well, obviously I will. He’s a man.”

  Milo grasped her arm. “I will not allow my wife to betray me again.”

  Amelia stared at him. “Do you think I would? With him?”

  He pulled her closer. “It’s happened before.”

  “Not by me,” she whispered, trying to free herself. “Let me go.”

  “No.”

  “Chatham, release me,” she hissed. “I’ve done nothing wrong and you are causing people to stare at us.”

  “Let them look and see my hands on my own wife,” he growled. “I have the right to touch you.”

  She sniffed the air between them and wrinkled her nose. “Not like this. This isn’t you.”

  Suddenly, Jessica stood beside them, and Samuel, too. Samuel peeled Milo’s hands off Amelia’s arm and drew him away. “You need some air, brother.”

  “Yes, do take him outside for air,” she murmured. “Perhaps once his head clears, he will remember how to be a good husband.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Amelia emerged from her bedchamber a little after six the next morning after a sleepless night, exhausted but keen to escape the tangled bedsheets. She’d been alone all of last night, and she assumed her husband had slept elsewhere due to his overindulgences of the night before.

  Their argument had been utterly ridiculous, and she didn’t know what to do to prove her loyalty. Like everyone else she’d ever known, he had believed the worst of her when there was absolutely no cause—not in this case.

  Dunstan had been a harmless pest last night. Amelia done her best to ignore his sly comments disparaging Milo and had constantly turned their conversation to expressing her admiration for his wife. The woman was a saint to put up with his wandering eye.

  But now that she was a married woman, she was apparently considered fair game to all men of any age. The arrogance of any man thinking she’d betray Chatham after only a few days of marriage astounded her.

  She was not like the first Lady Chatham. She would never betray her marriage or believe the flirtations of any man? Amelia disbelieved all compliments on principal and always would, so they were bound to fail.

  It was Chatham who was becoming dear to her in his own way, but it seemed that under the influence of spirits, he was only a heartbeat away from thinking the worst of her. Had he been looking for any excuse to think the worst of her all this time?

  She closed the door on their bedchamber and headed downstairs as fast and as quietly as she could, then fled outdoors to be alone with her thoughts.

  The day was beautiful and turning warm already, and all she wanted to do was get away from the fact that she was trapped here with strangers who did not like her. She rushed past hedges and took the first garden path she found that would take her far away from everyone at Stapleton, and Quigley Hill, too. As much as she liked Mrs. Whitfield, the woman believed in love and might caution patience with her brother.

  But Amelia could not do that. She would not allow his suspicions to fester into further unfounded accusations of infidelity but was unsure how to prove herself. Amelia went toward the woods, as she thought that was the perfect place to hide from the family for a few hours to think—by then she hoped her husband would realize the fool he had made of himself last night and come looking for her to apologize. She was determined not to make it too easy for him.

  She hurried along, chin down, only to come to an abrupt stop when someone called out to her by her title.

  “You’ll risk getting lost if you go much farther in that direction.”

  She froze at hearing her husband’s voice—but when she turned, it was his father with the duchess on his arm. She hadn’t realized until now how similar the duke and her husband could sound. It was a little unnerving to be honest.

  “Your Graces,” she said, dropping them a curtsy out of politeness.

  When she raised her face again, the duke squinted hard at her and then looked around. “What are you doing out here alone? Where are you going?”

  She stiffened at the accusation that she must be up to no good, but the duchess clucked her tongue. “He means, what are you doing out here without a maid?”

  The duke brow rose high.

  He had not meant that at all.

  She straightened her spine. “I’m content to be on my own, Your Grace,” she promised. “I rise early every day. I apologize if I disturbed your walk.”

  The duchess sighed. “My dear, you don’t always have to be so alone. You have a family now.”

  Amelia almost snorted, because clearly, she had no one, and her husband had no faith in her virtue. She pressed her lips together.

  The duke’s eyes narrowed. “I hear you squabbled with my son last night.”

  There was no point in denying that she’d been publicly accused of nonsense, because there were no secrets between anyone at a house party. She would not accept the blame, though.

  “Yes. But he’s being ridiculous.”

  The duke stroked his jaw. “My son often is. He is led by his emotions. Usually.”

  She nodded. She’d suspected as much, even if he denied he had them. She’d seen caution in his words and eyes even before she had married him. It was what one did when others had hurt you badly.

  “Nothing I do is right,” she said, weary of trying to prove her worth. The duke had already accused her of entrapment, and her husband expected infidelity at every turn.

  Her Grace shook her head. “I’m sure if you’ve argued with my stepson, then it is not up to you to do anything about it. It’s up to him. It was remarked by all on how graceful you were, how charming.”

  Amelia let out a sigh and curtsied again. She’d felt out of place all night. The woman was only being kind. “I should not keep you.”

  The duchess whispered to the duke, and he bowed before striding off. The duchess remained with Amelia, her expression grave. “Would you care to join me on my daily amble? I’m a little earlier today than usual which is why I was surprised to see you outside already.”

  Amelia considered refusing. If she spent time with Her Grace, would her husband believe she was attempting to curry favor?

  But then she ground her teeth in frustration at her own thoughts. She’d never done anything like that in her life but always got the blame. She would not be made to feel guilt for something she had no intention of ever doing.

  She lifted her chin. “Yes. Why not?”

  Her Grace gestured her toward the path she’d been following, and they set off together, side by side.

  She glanced around again, frowning that the gardeners were late starting their duties. “How is your son today?”

  “Sleeping,” she promised. “He has settled down into a routine, which I’m told will make him more even tempered.”

  “It helps to know what is expected, even at a young age.”

  Amelia had not seen anyone else outside—but suddenly, a head popped out from behind a tree some distance ahead of them. A boy grinned, then disappeared again…only to reappear on the other side of the path they walked, two trees farther along.

  The duchess waved to them but then saw Amelia’s confusion.

  “Oh, twins are confusing creatures, are they not? This pair of Samuels make a game out of our confusion,” the duchess complained. “Come and say good morning, children,” she called out.

  They both appeared on the path, waved at the duchess, then sprinted up the trail ahead of them.

  “The boys have too much energy to remain confined indoors for long, I’m afraid, so I leave them be. My husband wishes them tamed, but I think it is an unachievable aim, at least for now. It only causes them unhappiness, and quarrels between their father and the duke. They’ve not had the easiest of lives, being dragged from pillar to post. It’s a miracle Samuel has stayed as long as he has this time. I was so happy to see him join us last night. I dare not interfere, you see, but our husbands feel differently. Besides, having them stay at the ruins gives Samuel something to do with his days other than think of his loss. He is unhappy making polite conversation when everyone tells him he must marry again.”

  She nodded. “I find it difficult to be idle, as well.”

  “Milo had an easier time than Samuel did. More to distract him, ground him. He is my husband’s heir, and Nicolas once confided in him about everything. But he became closed off when the duke pressed him to marry again too soon after her death. Retreating to his own estate to grieve, or drinking to excess somewhere else with friends. But all this is his future, too, and yours now, as well.”

  Amelia winced. “I think he grieves her still. My husband.”

  The duchess sighed. “Does that bother you?”

  She shook her head and changed the subject. “What is it like? Being a duchess? Traveling in distinguished circles?” she asked.

  “It can be restrictive. There are rules, unspoken ones, which must be followed. Disapproving glares if one shows too much levity—except amongst family.”

  “Did His Grace’s children object to you?”

  “One of them helped arrange our first kiss,” the duchess whispered and then laughed. “I was quite surprised when I realized the conspiracy underway.”

  “Conspiracy?”

  “Mistletoe.”

  Amelia nodded. “Ah, a source of many a good or disastrous flirtation leading to marriage.”

  “It could have been disastrous for me. We were duke and governess at the time.”

  “Oh.” Amelia had heard little about the duchess before coming here. “But he married you.”

  “Once we realized how strongly we felt about each other, it did not take long at all for him to propose.”

  “A true love match,” Amelia said, then glanced away.

  “Yes, I never thought to be so happy in a second marriage. My first was…unsatisfying.”

  “Were you a widow for long?”

  “Not really. Oh, you’ve not heard my story. Well, my first husband died and left me with but one choice—to seek paid employment. It was a difficult time, and I was fortunate that Fanny saw and rescued me from a bad position, and I met the duke by chance. Then he offered the position as governess to Jessica. He and I became friends in the course of my employment, and then…well, the mistletoe deepened our friendship into something wonderful.”

  Amelia was happy for anyone who found love, but hearing of it sometimes saddened her.

  She pushed the feeling away and searched her mind for a suitable change of subject.

  The duchess sighed. “Ah. There is my husband, come back to us.”

  Two encounters with the duke in one day? The first one had been fairly cordial, but Amelia would rather not risk a second. “I will leave you, if you don’t mind.”

  “He swore he would behave today. Give him a chance to know you.”

  Amelia sighed and turned to face the duke—whose hands were fisted at his sides.

  “Damn it all,” he growled.

  Amelia flinched. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not you,” Stapleton snapped. “But it is you whom I must speak to.”

  Amelia braced herself. “Yes, Your Grace?”

  “You and my son… parted on bad terms last night.”

  She gulped. “Yes.”

  “I hope in his absence, you will choose to stay a while longer,” the duke murmured, wincing.

  Amelia frowned. “What do you mean, in his absence?”

  “I’ve just been told he left the estate unexpectedly last night. Didn’t you know about him going?”

  Amelia shrank back in shock that Chatham had gone and left her behind over a moment of drunken madness on his part. She swallowed down a scream. “Did he take the children with him?”

  The duke’s eyes narrowed. “No. They remain in the nursery, and are unaware so far.”

  “I see.” She shuffled her feet, acutely embarrassed that the duke had to be the one to tell her that her husband had fled their marriage. “Where has he gone?” she asked, voice shaking with anger.

  “I honestly don’t know,” the duke said. “He left in the dead of night. On horseback after the ball had ended. Damn foolish thing to do. He’ll break his neck—or I will.”

  “Oh.” Amelia’s spirits sank even lower than they had been last night. She looked toward the manor and felt sick to her stomach. “He said nothing to me. He never does. He never will…”

  The duke sighed. “You’re upset.”

  “Of course, I’m upset!” she snapped at him. “He doesn’t trust me or any woman to remain faithful after what his first wife did to him.”

  The duchess put an arm around her back and hugged her. “But you deserve his faith.”

  She threw off the duchess’ embrace and turned away, unable to contain her anger over him and the world. Chatham claimed to dislike scandal, but he would be the cause of one—not her. She looked back at the duke. “I was quite content to remain a spinster forever, until he convinced me I’d make an adequate wife.”

  The duke’s brow rose. “Only adequate?”

  She bit her tongue, appalled she’d revealed so much out loud but unable to take it back. The duke appeared amused by her outburst and watched her in silence.

  Amelia strove for calm. But she could not find it easily. Not this time.

  She faced the duke and he nodded.

  The duke turned to the duchess. “You’re needed at the manor, my dear,” he murmured. “Your special guests have arrived.”

  More guests? That was all Amelia needed today.

  “Perhaps a cup of tea will soothe her pride while she decides what to do,” the duchess mused. “I’ll arrange it.”

  Amelia ground her teeth. Tea would never prevent a scandal, no matter how well meaning it might be offered. She scowled at the duke. “There is nothing to be done about me. And it is not my pride that is hurt, but my⁠—”