Page 31 of A Necessary Wife

“Lucy has the memory, but not a flesh-and-blood mother to look up to, to run to when she was scared or frightened. From whom she could learn to be a lady.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “That is exactly what I mean.”

“And you chose me of all people. A lady who could never live down a scandal. Who made a marriage without love and brought the ire of a duke down upon her head.”

“But one who did so with elegant composure,” he noted with a smile. “You are brave, and I want my daughter to be just like you.”

“Thank you for saying that,” she whispered.

“You know, I remember seeing you just after the scandal must have occurred. I called on your brother, not knowing the changed situation when I came into his drawing room. You were there, pushed to the background while your family steered the conversation. I have never seen a room of people try so hard to pretend your sister’s marriage to your beau was cause for celebration. Your brother had confided in me that it was you the fellow had been courting. And they made you sit there, listening to their excited chatter about the nuptials. But your eyes red, even though you forced a smile as you wished them well. I knew you’d been badly let down and at the time, with your family in the room, I could not say anything that might comfort you. So I asked for tea, knowing your aunt had always sent you from the room to arrange such things before. I hoped you could stop smiling for a while.”

“I did not realize that,” she whispered, looking at him in awe. “You left sooner than they expected, too.”

“I could not stay to celebrate with them. It would have been cruel to you.”

“Thank you. You are the only one besides my brother who thought I deserved sympathy.”

He reached for her hands to hold them tight, and was granted them. “Friends?”

“Not yet, but there could be hope for you,” she murmured.

He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed the backs, noticing her chilled skin. He would have to end their conversation and return her inside, where it was warmer. “I’ll not let you down again.”

“Don’t begin to make me any more promises, my lord,” she warned.

“Very well,” he agreed, but he worried. Her trust in him was so very fragile. Only time would prove his commitment to making this marriage work for both of them.

“Would you care to join my father and the guests in the music room tonight? Father announced our marriage, but the duchess explained your absence by saying you were unwell. There is time enough for you to change, I think. Perhaps a performance in the music room would break the ice.”

“Only if you want them to dislike me more,” she noted.

He frowned at her. “But you are musical?”

“I play the harp, not the pianoforte, and nor do I sing. But my instrument is miles away at my new home, or so I hope.”

Milo cursed under his breath again. “Damn.”

“I think it’s best I turn in for the night and return your coat to you. You must be thoroughly chilled through by now.”

“Yes,” he said, but he hadn’t truly noticed the cold. He found it invigorating to talk with Amelia. She was easy to be around—when he wasn’t disappointing her, that was.

His reason for this marriage was complex, but he had wanted someone for companionship, most of all. Milo often found the nights the hardest. He frequently relived his unfinished arguments with his first wife, which, of course, could never be resolved.

He held his arm out to Amelia and escorted her back inside to his bedchamber door. He stood back as she slipped out of his coat.

Amelia hovered there by the door, studying him in the dim light as he put his coat back on. The warmth Amelia had left in the garment wrapped around him like a glove, and he hugged the comfort that it brought.

“Good night, Chatham.”

He inhaled Amelia’s scent on his coat and smiled. “Good night, wife. I’ll sleep in my brother’s chambers tonight.”

Amelia stilled. “That is not necessary.”

“I’ll do my best not to wake you when I come to bed later then.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, and, after a moment, disappeared inside.

Milo walked away, pondering if they could ever spend a full day in harmony together. He had to do better.