Page 56 of His Abandoned Duchess

And Amelia’s tears poured all the hard, staining the bed against her cheek as she quietly broke apart, never to be whole again.

The rhythmic pulses slowly halted, their exquisite rush seeping away like the ground drying after a spring rain. Amelia was physically warmed through from the marrow of her bones to the outer shell of her skin. Slippery between her thighs, she was forced to suck in gulps of air to ease herself down after the exertion.

But behind it all was a hollow cave that stretched deeper into her than it ever had. Amelia had been so desperate for a connection with Richard—a last goodbye before they parted ways forever—but she was filled with immediate regret.

Another moment of joy only served to make the following sorrow ache all the more.

Still, they came down together, maneuvering onto their sides in the large bed as Richard kept himself warm inside her, almost as if the Duke had also sought out this final moment with her. Exhaustion settled over Amelia like a heavy blanket, and her eyes flickered shut even as she fought to remain conscious.

These were the ending moments that Amelia would have with her husband as such, and she could not bear the thought of sleeping through them. Her body was the ultimate master of her, however, and despite how she may have wished to remain awake or how she screamed in her mind to keep her eyes open, they closed. And she slept.

Chapter Twenty-Four

In the entirety of Richard’s life, he had awoken from slumber only a handful of times in a manner that demanded he remain precisely where he was. This was one of those times. Amelia clung to him, even in her unconsciousness. Her slim hands encircled his forearm as she lay just in front of him, her head resting over the top of it.

What was the grand loom of this universe doing by bringing the two of them together?

“I will not stand in the way of your duties or your desire to leave, Richard. Still, I must confess that recollections of our intimate moments together haunt me so. I…I wish to give myself a final memory to hold onto—a point in space that I may refer to whenever I am feeling called to do something like this again.”

Her words haunted him. While her body still craved their touch, it had become so evident that Amelia regretted their timetogether. A final night of passion was all that she wished for so that she might prevent herself from falling into the trap of connection with another. She valued her freedom too much to have it tainted by another’s presence.

And yet…perhaps if he might stay, Richard could show his wife that he no longer wished to disrupt her home, to criticize her every movement within the estate.

A terrible ache festered in his chest, and it was as if he could see the glimmering thread of gold that connected his fate to Amelia’s, the thin string floating through the air directly from the center of his sternum. Urgency and doubt swirled through Richard’s mind, a storm to his slumber’s calm.

I have no business becoming so enamored with Amelia. I have neither the ability nor experience that might grant me the skill to deliver her a love of worth.

He knew it to be true. Richard had been the recipient of so little affection in his time that he did not understand how one might go about showing it to others. Amelia hardly deserved a man who could not honor her with the regard she deserved. Her friends and acquaintances throughout Town had already seen fit to best him at it at every turn.

A heavy sigh left Amelia’s sleeping form, that moment of reset for the body even in dreams. Richard could tell that she dreamed, her eyes moving rapidly beneath her lids. His wife was a sight at all times, but there was a unique beauty to the way she looked while fantastical images danced in her mind.

He would remember this.

Richard was careful as he shifted forward on the soft bed, the lingering scent of their passions still perfuming the sheets. He angled himself forward, hovering his free arm over the top of Amelia’s head. Gently, the Duke reached down to stroke a fallen hair out of her eyes. The chocolate waves were tussled, but their softness remained the stuff of countless hours of care.

She was so lovely, so delicate and classical in her beauty. While others might fault her for not looking more like the ladies of court with their elaborate dress and makeup, Richard preferred this version of his wife. Amelia was her most gorgeous when she was stripped bare of all that livery, pure and unhurried.

He continued to stroke her cheek gently, careful not to wake her up. The velvet of her skin beneath his fingertips felt like home. For it was true that it was oftentimes a person and not a place. Every moment of intimate connection with Amelia drove that point further into him. She felt like home—a welcoming embrace when one stumbled in through a dark, stormy night.

I have done nothing else in my life as difficult as removing myself from your sight, dearest Amelia. Please allow some part of you to understand that I do it for you—everything I carry out from this point forth is for you.

For he would not harm her. He would not cause the Duchess further pain by dampening her light with his stormy countenance. Richard was a poor man for the lack of emotionalskill he possessed, and he would not force Amelia to shackle herself to him any more than he already had.

Should she even be interested in cavorting with another, he would not fault her. The Duke would accept the situation as a regrettable truth and remain silent as more of his chest cracked open, allowing his essence to bleed out into the ether of time.

“This is what you want,” he whispered. “And you do not love me. How could you?”

The truth was no surprise or great wonder. Richard had been cruel to Amelia at a near-constant rate since he’d returned to Heartwick. He had challenged her staffing decisions, even sought out a replacement for a steward that Richard knew was loyal and kind, and he doubted her ability to maintain a ledger of the finances, which had only been proven false.

Richard had embarrassed Amelia in front of her friends, he had become jealous of a simple Viscount’s kind words, and he had offended her so greatly by questioning her ability to conduct herself in a proper manner.

All that he might have heard about Amelia was proven false within the first day of his arrival, and still, he remained, looking for weak points in her presentation. He had found none, not even her wish to remain living without such tight restrictions.

Richard agreed to an extent, after all. It was true that so much was expected of the both of them, and another helping more for Amelia. Society was of a collective mind to insist on alady’s purity. At the same time, men were expected to carry on with several trysts before settling. In fact, such behavior was celebrated.

Men could talk freely with each other about such things, reminiscing on them in public company, but if a woman were to entertain the talk of any man for too long, she was painted as a trollop.

It is an uneven world. Amelia has merely shown me the reality of that all the more. She is correct, and I have been so wrong.

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