Page 35 of His Abandoned Duchess

The clicking of his steps on the floor was swiftly followed by Amelia’s pattering approach, however, and Richard sighed, freezing steps away from the staircase.

“I’ve not felt as such before,” Amelia mumbled. “The kitchen’s recipe has certainly changed.”

Ignoring her claims, Richard reached out as Amelia nearly fell forward, catching her by the shoulders. She wobbled terribly,and he ground his molars, his mind turning back to the fact that Amelia had hardly been alone.

“Did your friends honestly allow you to drink so much that you might become a mess of yourself? Where have they carried off to?”

Amelia’s eyes struggled to remain open, and when Richard could get a solid glimpse of them, her pupils were pinpoints, nearly invisible in the chocolatey brown of her stare. Having never seen the woman so foxed before, it was difficult to tell if Amelia somehow still lacked the head to take much drink or if she’d been consuming much more than she believed.

“I became terribly tired, Your Grace,” she spoke, a yawn stretching her mouth as if to prove her point, “and began to fall asleep during the middle of our conversation.”

Amelia careened forward, her head landing on Richard’s chest.

“Lady Charlotte—I do so love her; she is a true sister to me if not by blood—dragged the others away. I was to sleep the drink away, but it has not worked.”

Holding onto her to keep Amelia from crashing down onto the floor, Richard clenched his jaw. She was as unfortunate as any he’d seen. His wife could scarcely stand, of course, but she also struggled to remain conscious at all, her breathing short and thready as she wavered in his grip like a reed in the breeze.

“You have attempted to sleep? I have found you on the settee in the drawing room, Amelia. Why have you not called for someone to help you to your room?”

A sniffling sound bubbled up from her, and Amelia fought to look into Richard’s critical stare. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and her full bottom lip trembled.

“I have attempted to alert someone, but…” she dropped her head again onto his chest, “I am so tired, and the room spins dreadfully. My guts can hardly stand it.”

“It is your own doing, Amelia.” Richard worked to straighten her, forcing his wife to stand on her own, which only served to draw the miserable tears from her eyes. “You should not have carried on as you did.”

A choked sob tore from her, but it quickly shifted into a pained laugh. As Richard glanced down at her, regarding her by ducking his head so that he might see beneath the swath of fallen hair at her forehead, Amelia smirked with one side of her mouth.

“I carried on? Bah. I sat on a blasted settee while straining to force images of your prick from my head. I see now why they refer to it as a matrimonial peace-maker. Even I would be less likely to rage upon you with it seated so firmly.”

Richard snorted. He’d never heard a woman go on about intercourse as Amelia did now. It was nearly impossible for him to hold back the laughter contained in his chest. But it was notthe time. His wife would not be seatedanywhereon him when she was in such a state.

It will do no good, Richard. You are to keep your distance from Amelia. Encounters are to be avoided, particularly when she’s so ape-drunk that she’s as likely to fall asleep during it as call out for him.

“You are standing now, so I trust that you can manage yourself to bed. Take to the settee if you cannot climb the stairs.” He raised his brows at Amelia, pinning down an expression of indifference over the worry that threatened to wrinkle his brow. “Good evening, Amelia.”

As he turned and started up the stairs, Richard could hear Amelia stumbling up behind him. He would not look back over his shoulder. It was evident that, in a consistent fashion, Richard could not keep the woman from doing whatever she wished. But he would not give in to the situation. This was indeed a blessing in disguise, a feat performed by fate so that he might at last retrieve himself from his wife’s clutches.

They proceeded down the hall, Amelia mumbling to herself that she did not drink this much and then realizing at last that she must be wrong. Richard could hear her yawning, and it was obvious that she did not look in the direction of her walking. When he reached his bedroom, he opened things up, only for Amelia to attempt to follow him inside.

“No, your room is there.” He pointed down the hall, and as Amelia turned, he shut the door and turned over the lock.

“Ugh, damn you.” She pounded on the door. “It’s too far.”

A whine bled through the door, and Richard could hear dulled shuffling as Amelia bumped into the walls of the hall. At once, a thud sounded, and he could pinpoint it to the floor. It did not sound hurried, but Richard had to wonder if Amelia had fallen.

Dammit, woman. Can I not finally rest?

When the sound of her indistinct mumblings ceased, Richard had no choice but to open the door once more and peer out into the hall, looking after her.

“Amelia?”

As he somewhat expected, she was lying on the floor, but she’d made it a few paces down the hallway before slumping against the wall. Her breathing was shallow but slowed, and Amelia’s eyes were closed as she employed the baseboard as a pillow.

“Oh, hell.”

He couldn’t leave her like that, and despite how it looked, Richard had heard Fredericks’s other words at White’s. Amelia hosted extravagant parties and attended many a ball with her close-knit friends.Butthere had been no reports of her being exceedingly foxed in public. Loose words spread with little footing but nothing concrete enough that Richard, or Frederick for that matter, could bring himself to think true.

Had something more happened during her evening? Richard had seen Amelia handle two and more glasses at the ball the other night, and the woman continued to be a dreadful liar. Was it possible that?—

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