CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Amelia had wandered aimlessly through Stapleton’s extensive grounds for hours, hugging her shawl tightly about her shoulders as she pondered her troubling situation.

  She had fallen for her husband, and she had to hide it forever.

  The gardens hardly comforted her but she kept going. They were very well cared for and, seeing nothing for her to do, she let her steps eventually lead her back to the ruined cottage Samuel was working to rebuild.

  Not a lot of progress seemed to have been made since her last visit, but there was smoke coming from one chimney. She dared not enter and looked around for her brother-in-law.

  Of Samuel or anyone else, there was no sign as she circled the structure twice. The woods closest seemed empty, quiet but for distant bird calls and the odd scratching sound coming from the undergrowth.

  The place reminded her of her own empty cottage, and her abandoned dream of having a thriving garden there. She did not want to live there alone anymore, but the hope of a place to belong still made her ache.

  Amelia had longed for a home of her own all her life. She had expected to already have a place and a garden to tend as she grappled with the challenges a marriage brought.

  Love this time felt sharper and more painful, too, knowing it would never be returned. She had a wonderful husband who didn’t want her to love him. A daughter who preferred another woman to stand in her place. At least Adam seemed to accept her, but he would always be influenced by Lucy, and when he was older, he would notice her disdain and might think less of Amelia.

  Was a marriage of convenience ever a truly good idea for a woman? She could not help but care for those around her.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d stood contemplating the very unhappy future ahead of her before a twig snapped to her right, and she spun, gasping in fright.

  Samuel raised his hands. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She calmed herself. “You didn’t. Not really.”

  He edged closer and glanced around. “What are you doing out here, and alone?”

  “I needed some air,” she said, hoping he would accept that and not question her further.

  His smile was immediate. “Well, there is a lot of air in the countryside, I’ve found.”

  “True.” She glanced down at her hands, studied her fingertips. She still found it odd not to have dirt under her nails. She was not meant for an idle life.

  “What truly brings you here, Lady Chatham?”

  “I don’t really know.”

  He perched on an old fence post a short distance away. “Has something happened between you and my brother? Did you argue again?”

  “No.”

  “Something must have, and I don’t think you can blame my father for your long face this time. You look utterly miserable, and my brother most certainly is the cause.”

  She gulped.

  “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”

  She couldn’t if she tried, so she rubbed her palms over her arms, agitated that she would have to lie to everyone about her feelings for her husband for as long as she lived. “Nothing has turned out the way I expected it to.”

  “Nothing ever does. Plans have a way of changing, some say it’s often for the best.”

  She shook her head and turned away. “Not this time.”

  “Well, your harsh words brought me to my senses. Changed my mind. Got me out of the woods and back into the family fold.”

  She winced. “I have a confession to make. I did not know your wife at all.”

  “I know you didn’t, but you remind me of her. Quiet yet outspoken. Passionate about family and duty. I suppose that is why I rebel against doing as expected. She is no longer here to set me straight, but you have. I must continue as she would want me to. But love never goes away, does it?”

  Amelia winced. Love had to go away; there was no place for it in her marriage. But that was her burden to bear, not his to know. She threw a smile his way. “Sometimes it does.”

  “You’ve been listening to my brother’s nonsense. He refuses to believe he deserves love again.”

  Amelia’s heart sank like a stone. “Yes.”

  “But you can change that.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “My dear, the change has already begun. If he had not begun to care more deeply for you, he would never have accused you of flirting with Dunstan the other night. He was blinded by jealousy, and likely is still afraid to trust.”

  “He was in his cups but I would never betray him.”

  “His first wife tried to seduce me,” Samuel blurted out. “Right here at Stapleton. Under his very nose.”

  Amelia gasped. “What did you do? Does he know?”

  “I threw her out of my bed, and I told my brother to keep her away from me,” Samuel assured her. “We avoided each other for a few weeks. He was humiliated. My wife was still alive then but away visiting a friend. I told her as soon as she returned. It is one of the reasons we never visited them in Devon.”

  “Poor Milo.”

  Samuel squinted at her.

  Amelia nodded. “He told me about how things were the night his first wife died. The argument. His thoughts of divorce. He blamed himself for not preventing her fall all this time but he was too far away.”

  “I never thought he’d tell you but I’m glad he did,” Samuel said.

  “I couldn’t bear to see him suffering,” she admitted. “Even if talking about her is the last thing I want to do.”

  “I doubt he’s suffering still, not with you warming his bed every night. He hasn’t spoken well of a woman since his first wife lived, but with you, his respect is obvious.”

  Amelia blushed and rubbed her hands on her arms again. Yes, he might respect her but that was all.

  She glanced at the cottage. “Will you live here once you finish the rebuilding?”

  “I doubt it. I am starting to think the place better suited to my brother and you.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “But I thought…”

  “It is too quiet. I dwell on the past too much here, and you saw that immediately, didn’t you? But I will finish what I’ve started. Finish it for the family at large, and who knows, perhaps you and Milo might spend some of your summers here, repairing the garden.”

  “I would love that. But I likely cannot, since this is not my home.”

  “Our father will come around as soon as he understands why Milo thought he’d be happier being married to you than anyone else. That’s all he wants—our happiness, that and endless grandbabies to steal away.”

  Amelia laughed softly. “I have to chase Adam and Lucy all over the manor because he keeps doing that.”

  “It’s not about you, and he won’t ever stop, I’m afraid,” Samuel warned with a laugh, and stood. “Not unless they’re as restless as my sons. My boys have grown used to unlimited freedom, and I will have difficulty changing them back into the well-behaved boys their mother expected them to be.”

  Amelia nodded.

  Samuel dusted himself off. “Well, I’d best get on with it. The cottage won’t finish itself. Spend as much time as you like in the garden here to soothe your soul. But do stay out of the cottage until it is finished. Milo would never forgive me if anything ever happened to you. There are still floorboards to be replaced.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  Samuel tipped his hat and strode off around the building. A short time later, she heard sounds of industry, hammering and such from that direction.

  Amelia sighed. If she could have stayed here with the children instead of living at the manor, she and Lucy might have found common ground. But as it was, too much interfered with her attempts to befriend the child to leave her much hope.

  The tip of a rose branch, bereft of a bloom, caught her eye, and she bent down to examine where it came from. With a little effort, and careful weeding, she discovered a sturdy old rose vine grew wild under the weeds.

  She soon realized there were more in a line, remnants of the former garden still there, waiting to be tended. Under the long grass was a gravel path, too, and stone borders of a long-forgotten garden bed.

  She worked to clear away a small patch around the roses, discovering the wreckage of a woven fence, quite deteriorated, and she lost track of the time trying to reveal it.

  When she finally stood, she easily stepped out the perimeter of the cottage garden, impressed by the size it must have been once. And the potential of restoring this abandoned refuge in the woods filled her with excitement.

  When she gardened, she could always push her problems aside for a while, and now she would do it to rid herself of her disturbing love she had for her husband.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Milo finally found Amelia in the garden, hurrying toward the manor, looking devilishly attractive to him in the afternoon sunlight. He had been looking for her all day, and the woman had proved frustratingly elusive. He had just started to worry something had happened to her.

  But she appeared whole and safe, and he watched her for a few moments—cataloguing all of her qualities as if for the first time.

  She was, in a word, perfection. Understatedly elegant. Sturdy and yet so very gentle. A lady in every sense of the word by day, but also a vixen who stole his breath and sanity when they were alone.

  He glanced around to confirm the children were still following, then headed in her direction. He would have to delay his confession of love until after the children were out of earshot. He could not, however, control his own limbs in his eagerness to reach her.

  He captured Amelia in his arms from behind and kissed her cheek soundly. “There you are. Have you been outside all this time?”

  “Yes,” she said, then held out her hands for him to see. There was dirt under her nails once more, and that made him smile. “I couldn’t help myself.”

  He laughed softly, delighted that she had done something that made her happy. He glanced around the nearby garden bed, but saw no soil disturbed anywhere close by. “Where on earth were you gardening?”

  “At the cottage your brother is rebuilding.”

  He nodded, glad she had not been alone or lost, the way he had started to fear. “You were with Samuel?”

  “Not in the way the last Lady Chatham tried,” Amelia promised quickly.

  Milo winced. “He told you about that, did he?”

  “Yes.” She winced, too. “Samuel returned to his repairs soon after we spoke, but he said he’d welcome any help with the weeding. I didn’t think I would be missed…and you had Lady Ashcroft to entertain you.”

  He tried to catch her eye, but she kept her gaze on the distant view. “Conversation with Lady Ashcroft is never time well spent.”

  She glanced at him sharply, then noticed the children were with him.

  Adam hurried over and wrapped himself around her legs. “Papa feared you must be lost!”

  “No, I wasn’t lost,” she promised him, ruffling his hair. “I would never leave you. Either of you.”

  Milo’s chest swelled to see the bond growing between Amelia and their young son.

  Lucy was looking down at Amelia’s skirts, at the dirt and grass stains on her gown.

  Amelia also noticed, and she lifted her chin higher. The action reminded him of the day he’d proposed the marriage between them. She was expecting disapproval, but Milo had been charmed even then. Her manner that day matched his memories of all the times they’d met before that. She was no wilting wallflower but a strong, resourceful lady.

  Though today, she did look a bit weary, and he led her to a stone bench to rest. She must have spent a good few hours clearing those weeds away, and it would take many more hours of labor to even call it a garden.

  Next time, she must have servants to help her, as well. He could spend a few hours helping her with that garden if she’d let him as well. The children could help too.

  “We missed you,” Milo said.

  Amelia’s gaze flickered to Lucy before she looked down at her hands. She curled her fingers into her palms to hide the dirt under her nails. “I’m sorry if my disappearance inconvenienced anyone.”

  “Never an inconvenience,” he assured. “Time alone does provide valuable enlightenment, though.”

  “Yes, it does,” she said, then squared her shoulders. She glanced at Lucy again. “Are those flowers for the duchess, Lucy?”

  “No. They were for Lady Ashcroft,” she confessed, biting her lower lip. “She said she would like some flowers before she took me riding.”

  Amelia sighed and glanced away. “Then I suppose you should give them to her before they wilt,” she said gently.

  “She…she didn’t really want them, or to ride with me,” Lucy admitted in a small, devastated voice. “She lied. She just wanted to have Papa all to herself.”

  Milo placed a hand on Lucy’s head, approving of his child’s honesty. Amelia valued that more than anything else.

  Amelia’s eyes narrowed, and she looked at Milo with suspicion.

  “Nothing happened,” he promised. “Nothing ever has or will.”

  She turned to Lucy again, her expression grave. “You chose the prettiest ones in the garden.”

  Lucy shuffled a little closer. “Do you really like the one I picked?”

  “I love them,” Amelia whispered.

  Lucy bit her lip…then held them out. “Would you like them, Mama?”

  Amelia didn’t respond for several moments as tears filled her eyes. She struggled to contain her emotions, then she leaned forward. “I would adore anything you ever give me, Lucy,” she said. “We can be friends, can’t we?”

  Lucy nodded quickly.

  Milo’s relief that their relationship was finally moving in the right direction was acute. It was the first time Lucy had directly addressed Amelia with any respect. But to have her call her mama filled his heart with joy.

  Lucy passed the flowers across to Amelia’s visibly trembling hand. She held them to her nose and inhaled, watching Lucy the whole time. “Do you know their names?”

  Their daughter shook her head, and Amelia admired each flower and named them, pointing to them in turn.

  Lucy seemed keen to listen now and shuffled closer still. “Would you like more?”

  “I don’t need them while I have these,” Amelia told her. “Perhaps another day we could pick flowers together.”

  “Why wait for another day, she needs flowers that were intended for her,” Milo suggested. “Lucy, Adam, I believe Grandpa was in his study. Would you ask him if it would be all right if we pick more flowers today?”

  Lucy hesitated to go, no doubt suspecting she was being sent away like last time.

  “We’ll be here waiting for you to come back,” he promised.

  The girl ran off, as fast as her legs would carry her, with Adam tagging along.

  “I really don’t need more flowers,” Amelia chided. “These are enough. I’m not romantic.”

  Milo shook his head. “Everyone is romantic to some degree. Even you, wife.”

  “No, Chatham. I’m not,” she insisted firmly, twisting her wedding ring on her finger.

  He sighed and sat beside her. “Is everything all right with you today?”

  “Yes, of course it is.”

  He frowned, though, because she was obviously not herself and could barely hide her agitation. She never sat playing with her ring, for one. “If you’re upset over Lady Ashcroft and Lucy, don’t be.”

  “No. I am reconciled to how things will be for a while. It was naive of me to imagine it would be easy to win her over. This was a small step in the right direction, though.”

  “You’re hopeful, not naive,” he promised, trying to meet her gaze. She smiled but her expression was closed off in a way it had never been before. “My daughter disappoints me, too. She is a great deal too much like her mother at times.”

  Amelia shook her head firmly and bent to draw her sagging stocking back up her leg. “You cannot place any blame on a child for not wanting her mother’s replacement. She likes Lady Ashcroft more because she’s known her longer.”

  He smiled at how she defended Lucy, even if she must be vexed with her. “That is, I think, firmly in the past. Phillipa showed her true colors today and lost Lucy’s trust. She will not be given any opportunity to regain it.”

  Amelia frowned. “I do not wish to dictate her friendships.”

  “Lucky for you, I can protect my family from being imposed upon by others who think too well of themselves,” he promised. “Dunstan left the estate at noon. He will not bother you again.”

  Amelia sighed and looked away.

  He caught Amelia’s hand and drew it to his lips. He kissed the ring on her finger. She should be happy but his words had made her sad for some reason. “Something else is wrong. I can feel it.”

  “Nothing is wrong. But there is something I wish to talk about with you.”

  A prickling of unease filled him when she tugged back her hand. “What is it?”

  She frowned. “I think it would be best if we cease lovemaking for a while.”

  His heart soared with joy at a possible reason for that, and he grabbed her hands again to pull her closer. “You’re with child?”

  “No.” She jerked her hands back to her waist. “I don’t believe I am.”

  “Then why stop?” They were making love often and gloriously.

  Amelia moved a little bit farther away, and a chill swept over him.

  “Even if you are with child, it is not necessary to cease lovemaking.”

  She chewed her lip for a moment. “We need to.”

  Milo was thoroughly confused now. “Why do you want to stop doing something you enjoy?”

  She burst to her feet. “I have to be honest with myself, and with you. Our marriage has altered me in ways I didn’t expect. I know that’s not what you want to hear or what we agreed upon. I think… I think I have to go away for a while.”

  “What? No!” He panicked at the thought of any separation. He could not imagine any gulf of space between them. “Is it your family? Do you miss your brother and the garden you made there? I swear, I will keep my promises to give you one of your own.”