The duchess smiled. “We are always happy to have you visit us again, Lady Ashcroft.”

  “Oh, please call me Phillipa. Everyone in the family does. We will see each other often in the coming years.” The woman’s smile turned smug. “I’ve rejoined my parents at Longview and will be living there for the foreseeable future.”

  “How lucky for them.” The duchess blinked. “I must say that is a very elegant gown you’re wearing today. Isn’t it, Jessica?”

  “Lovely,” Jessica agreed.

  “The silk is from Paris,” the woman told them, smoothing a hand over her leg. “Mama said the fit and rich colors suited my figure perfectly.” Lady Ashcroft glanced over at Amelia finally. “You are wearing a pretty gown as well, Lady Chatham” she said, and her eyes skimmed Amelia’s less formal gown. It was white muslin, the fabric plain and inexpensive, and as Amelia glanced down, she noticed an unusual degree of wrinkling in the skirts.

  She smoothed her fingers over the fabric, wondering how that had happened, and then she remembered Milo clutching her so tightly as he cried. Was it any wonder her gown needed a good press now? But she wished she’d noticed before rejoining the duchess.

  “Your Grace, I couldn’t help but overhear a commotion upstairs,” Lady Ashcroft whispered. “Is everything all right?”

  The duchess frowned. “I’ve heard of no commotion. How odd that you did.”

  “Yes, it was odd,” the woman said, raising a brow that suggested she was looking to gossip. “I think perhaps the sound came from the direction of the family rooms.”

  “Oh, good. Samuel has arrived.”

  “Not Samuel’s chambers but…” Her eyes slid to Amelia.

  Amelia understood perfectly and was incensed. Was this woman sneaking about outside her husband’s bedchamber and listening to them? Had she come to seduce him? Clearly, she chose the wrong moment. Amelia worried about how much she had heard, as well. She valued her privacy, and would not like her husband gossiped about for crying over his late wife.

  The duchess caught her eye. “Amelia dear, you were the last of us to return from upstairs. Did you hear anything untoward?”

  “No, not a thing.” She scrambled to offer a plausible explanation to end the conversation…then thought of something just a bit amusing. “Oh, now that I think of it, there was a moment between myself and Chatham that may have been misunderstood by anyone who strayed into the family wing.”

  Jessica raised a brow and sat forward. “Oh, do tell?”

  “Chatham discovered I was ticklish,” she said, wrapping her arms about her ribs.

  Lady Ashcroft appeared skeptical. “Ticklish?”

  “Indeed. He proved extremely persistent and I had to get my revenge, too.”

  Jessica laughed. “So much like my husband. Once Giddy has me in his clutches, he never lets me go until I beg for mercy.”

  “Your Grace, I must apologize for my appearance. I failed to notice the rumpled state of my gown after the tickling, but I should have changed before rejoining you.”

  “There is nothing you ever need to apologize to me for, my dear Amelia. You are married to a Westfall. We cannot help that our husbands have roving hands.” The duchess grinned as if it was perfectly normal behavior.

  Amelia inclined her head, thankful to be believed, noticing Lady Ashcroft was less than pleased with the way the conversation had turned out. She’d clearly hoped to stir up suspicion. They resumed their conversations about fashions popular in London, and she breathed a sigh of relief that the moment had passed. It was not long after that when the woman excused herself, claiming an errand, and departed the room.

  The duchess glanced her way. “Was everything all right upstairs, my dear?”

  “Yes, it is now,” she said firmly. She did not explain, and the duchess asked no further questions again.

  Her Grace stood a little unsteadily. “You will make an admirable duchess one day. Loyalty is important in our family.”

  So was the ability to spin a tall tale to spare a husband’s reputation.

  “Indeed, yes,” Jessica murmured. “Phillipa is a skilled manipulator of the truth, too. Never believe her when she claims to know more about your husband than you do.”

  Amelia nodded. “I should go looking for my children.”

  “Ah, I’m afraid the duke stole them away to visit the stables some time ago.” The duchess peeked out the window. “He said they needed some air. Lucy, particularly.”

  “Of course.”

  “I do expect him to return soon, though,” the duchess said. Then she whispered, “If he doesn’t, I might never act as hostess for another house party. This lot is so dreary. All they do is eat and pick at old grievances or look to start new ones.”

  Amelia stifled a sigh. Nothing about society had changed, and likely never would. “How is Charles this afternoon?”

  “Sleeping again. He has taken your husband’s advice firmly to heart.”

  Amelia doubted her husband had much to do with settling the child, but she did not argue the point. “I’ve observed babies, children go through phases. One only has to be patient until they remember how they must behave.”

  The duchess grinned. “That holds true for Westfall men, in particular.”

  “I’m sure you are right.”

  The duchess suddenly sighed, and when Amelia turned, she spotted the duke entering the room, but not with her children in tow. Would she have to chase them all over the manor to spend enough time with them each day?

  The duke seemed to steal away with them often, effectively limiting her time alone with them. He didn’t even apologize for the inconvenience he caused her.

  When the duke noticed her standing by his duchess’ side, he smiled. “They are outside, exhausting the boot boy and a footman with a game of chase.”

  Amelia excused herself immediately and went in search of them. She had just spotted them through a window, and was on the verge of stepping outside, when heavy footsteps rushed toward her.

  She was suddenly captured from behind.

  “There you are,” Chatham whispered in her ear, hugging her close.

  And there he remained, his arms tight around her middle, holding her in his embrace as if she were dear to him and sorely missed.

  She closed her eyes at how good it felt, how deeply her encounters with Chatham filled her soul with peace. With him, she sometimes felt she belonged—and yet, quite often, she was sure he felt the opposite.

  She stroked his arms, hoping the action did not seem too affectionate. “The children were with your father earlier,” she whispered. “I was about to join them outside.”

  “You were staring out the window for a long time.”

  “Debating which doorway to use. I swear they move faster than any other children I’ve ever known.”

  “One day, they won’t know the manor better than you, I promise.” His lips nuzzled her neck. “The servants are going to take them down in the kitchen for the housekeeper to spoil them with ice cream or some other treat soon. My father’s idea.”

  “He did that yesterday.”

  “He’ll do it again tomorrow, too, I expect. Don’t worry about him. He spoils every child he encounters in some way or another,” Chatham murmured.

  She thought he would suggest they follow, yet his attention remained on kissing her neck, and despite her best efforts not to be, Amelia was becoming aroused by the attention.

  She stood there helplessly. There was not much she could do to ignore her husband’s appeal. She leaned into him a little harder, pushing the duke from her mind in favor of spoiling herself with a husband’s attention.

  However, she could not forget they were in a public place. Someone could come along, and they could be embarrassed. “How have you been since I saw you last?” she whispered.

  “Better. I have been wandering the house. Remembering. Reordering my thoughts about the past.”

  She nodded but noticed no mention of encountering his most ardent admirer, Lady Ashcroft Ashcroft. Their earlier discussion about the death of his first wife had been necessary and might have caused him to feel awkward around Amelia now. But that did not seem the case.

  His first wife had been a dark shadow between them, a weight on his back for so long. Now, she hoped he could feel better about the woman he’d loved and lost.

  She turned to face him. “I’m glad,” she whispered.

  Chatham smiled a little sheepishly. “This is better. Us,” he clarified. “What would I have done without you?”

  “You might have suffered,” she told him, smirking a little. “But not anymore.”

  “No, not anymore. I’m free now,” he promised.

  And Amelia hoped that was true.

  She lowered her eyes and smoothed her hands over his wide chest. Chatham was a solid man. She liked that about him.

  He lowered his lips to her cheek and kissed her there. “My father declared that dinner will be taken outside tonight,” he whispered. “There will be candles and music and dancing under the stars. All the family is coming to join us again,” he said, as his fingers slid up her arm to rest on her shoulder. Very gently, he started to nudge her gown off the tip of her shoulder. “We will dance,” he decided.

  “We might,” she countered, wondering if he would ever learn to ask.

  She met his gaze and saw the devilish gleam was back in his eyes now. His fingers caressed her back. He raised a brow.

  “I should catch up with the children,” she warned him, but it wasn’t what she really wanted right now. She’d rather stay with her husband in this mood. Alone. Close. She had come to enjoy being with him and would relish any opportunity for improving their marriage.

  Yet the proprieties had to be maintained. They were dining with the family tonight, and she needed time to prepare. They were being quite wicked right now as it was, stealing time alone. She’d promised to cause no scandals.

  Chatham’s lips lowered to her shoulder. “I think you and I should find somewhere more private instead to talk,” he murmured. “I have a lot to make up for.”

  “You owe me nothing.”

  “But I want to give you what you need anyway.” His fingers moved along her neckline, tormenting her skin, then drew patterns over her bodice…until they were circling her nipple.

  She wet her lips, overcome by a sudden burst of yearning for him—a yearning that seemed to only grow stronger the more time they spent alone together.

  “I never expected our marriage to feel like this,” she confessed.

  Chatham’s lips lifted from her neck. “Would you have things different?”

  “No,” she promised him. “This is better than I ever dreamed.”

  “Indeed, it is for me too,” he agreed.

  Suddenly, his teeth were nipping harder at her throat. She threw her head back, overcome as always, forgetting where she was, who she was, and that she was not supposed to crave her husband like this.

  They had made a polite arrangement, but that no longer seemed to be what she wanted.

  She wanted this.

  Passion, and a husband who couldn’t keep his hands off her.

  They moved.

  She opened her eyes as Chatham pulled her along and pushed on a panel in a wall that revealed a hidden room.

  Inside was a small chamber. Without a fire, but a chaise lounge was placed against one wall. A shuttered window set high provided light, but there was nothing much else to determine its purpose.

  “What is this room?”

  “Welcome to the Refuge,” he said. “At least that is what I dubbed it years ago. I come here at times to escape annoying guests. I highly recommend you use it, too.”

  “I have no reason to hide anymore,” she warned him.

  “No you don’t, not at the moment.” Chatham clicked the lock on the door. “But there will be times when privacy is desirable. It is not part of the manor house plan and holds many surprises. Come and see.”

  He pulled a dark curtain across the wall, and when she drew closer, realized he had done so to reveal light coming from several small holes drilled into the surface. She set her eye to one and looked into the cigar room, where all the gentlemen seemed to slip away to at one time or another.

  Currently, one of the male guests stood with his back to her, alone, hitching his trousers higher over his large belly. As she watched, Mr. Dunstan joined him. The man snatched up a cigar from the sideboard and pocketed it instead of smoking it immediately.

  His Grace entered a moment later and offered cigars to both, and she drew back, uneasy about spying on the duke in his own home.

  Chatham covered everything back up again and wordlessly drew her toward the chaise, where he pulled her down to sit on his lap, then kissed her soundly for several deliriously good minutes.

  Amelia moaned when he gripped her thighs tightly and forced her to widen her legs so she could straddle him. Chatham’s fingers quickly pressed over her lips, silencing her.

  “We mustn’t make a sound here.”

  She nodded, understanding. But it gave her an odd thrill to know how close others might be, and yet unaware of what they were up to in the Refuge.

  She felt very naughty, in fact, even though one could not really be scandalous when captured in a husband’s arms. She raised her own skirts, and he unbuttoned his trousers. She dropped abruptly onto him.

  With a little adjustment of position, Chatham filled her. He tossed his head back, jaw clenched, and Amelia kept her gaze on his face as she started to move with more confidence than last time.

  He cupped her rear, fingers digging in, grinding her down deeper onto his length. Amelia quickened her movements at his urging, utterly caught up in their passionate escape.

  Suddenly, she was on her back, Chatham driving into her harder and faster. She widened her knees and then, dissatisfied with that, wrapped her legs high about his hips.

  They were frantic and desperate for each other within moments. She could not get close enough and wanted to tell him so out loud. But she had to be quiet, and Amelia discovered it was a torment that excited her unbearably.

  He reached for her hand and drew back a little, creating space for a brief return to sanity. He kissed her fingers, then pushed them down until she touched her own sex.

  “I want you to come by your own hand,” he whispered.

  She frowned, not understanding, until he moved her fingers around…and she discovered how greatly she could excite herself.

  She trusted him to advise her on matters of seeking her own pleasure, and after a few strokes, she understood how she could achieve an orgasm that way while he remained inside her. Amelia stroked herself, swirling her fingertips around a tiny bud that brought such sweet pleasure, while Milo moved inside her slowly.

  It was astonishingly good, and when she met his gaze, she saw him watching her closely. He moved until his lips were beside her ear. “I want to see the moment you come, feel it from inside of you. You are so lovely when you come undone in my arms.”

  Amelia’s sex twitched in response.

  “And when you’ve come undone, when you have wrung every sensual feeling from the moment, I’m going to take you hard until I fill you with my seed. And then I’m going to do it again, and again, until you beg for mercy.”

  Amelia shuddered, excited by the threat of more pleasure from him. Her fingers moved faster, and Milo’s thrusts matched her movements.

  Her back arched, and his hand suddenly clamped over her mouth. That excited her, too, and she came violently, though not as silently as she’d meant to do.

  But Milo had known she couldn’t help herself. The gleam in his eyes showed intense satisfaction with what they’d done together already.

  She came down slowly from her climax, her legs relaxing until she lay open to him.

  Chatham stared at her. “So beautiful,” he whispered.

  He started to move, burying his face against her throat, then he rose up again, gripping her thighs, holding her open to him. He started to grunt, and Amelia quickly placed her palm over his lips, too.

  His eyes widened, and he froze. But it was only for a moment. He twitched and began to slam into her repeatedly, before he filled her with his seed as promised.

  Chatham collapsed atop her, and Amelia held him tight, hugging him with her knees. Holding him close and astonished by how naturally they always came together.

  He pressed his lips to her cheek, panting hard still. “I want you no matter where we are.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” she whispered back, fingers sliding over his back, but then she laughed. “I definitely want more of you like this.”

  “Then we will stay here for a while and see if we can reach even greater heights next time.”

  “Next time? What about your father’s dinner? I need time to prepare myself to meet all the guests.”

  He withdrew, flipped her over onto her stomach, and lay against her back without crushing her. His cock appeared to be hard still, when he nudged her bottom with it a few times. He moved her hair away from her ear. “We could be too sated to think of dinner, and I’d rather lay with you here until dawn than make polite conversation with dull guests. Could you bear more of me?”

  Amelia’s pussy twitched at the very thought. “Yes.”

  She widened her legs a little farther to let him in, keen to see what more there could possibly be between them.

  Marriage to Chatham was turning out to be the most exciting thing she’d ever done.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Milo found no rest that night.

  Sleep tugged at him for brief moments, only to abandon him the instant Amelia breathed too deeply beside him or shifted against him in her sleep.

  He was constantly aware of her warm, supple body pressed along the length of his, the gentle curve of her back fitting perfectly against his chest, as if she had been fashioned to lie there beside him all along.