Page 57 of His Abandoned Duchess

Halting in his light caress of Amelia’s hair and face, Richard rolled onto his back. He could not bear the thought of seeing her eyes when he made his departure. And though it painted him a coward, he preferred to seize this opportunity to slip from the room unseen.

It was the work of several minutes to extract his arm from her, sliding it inch by inch across the bed until it was free. Richard stepped cautiously across the floor toward his attire. He had thought to don a new waistcoat and trousers for his journey, but he could not stand to wait for the laundress to be done with them.

Instead, he pulled himself together, dressing alone without the assistance of his valet, until he was again covered in the protective fabric of his clothing. They smelled of a combination of his cologne and Amelia’s perfume. It was a blend he would never tire of smelling but would soon never experience again.

Perhaps I will not send this waistcoat to be cleaned but preserve the memories in cloth and hang it within the farthest recesses of my wardrobe.

It was a silly thought, sentimental and impractical, but Richard knew that he was to be a victim of it as well. He needed a tangible item that he might turn to when his heart ached for Amelia’s presence.

The sound of rustling sheets yanked Richard from his thoughts, and he spun around, terrified that his wife might be waking. Still, as he turned to face her, Amelia had merely rolled over in the bed, her eyes still shut and her breathing still even.

As she lay there, more of this newfound sentimentality swelled within Richard’s chest, and he was forced to his knees at the side of the bed, hovering there as he cast one final glance over Amelia’s beauty.

“You are the stuff of fairy tales, Amelia. Crystalline dew drops frozen in perfection against a spring leaf. I will never forget the effect you have had on me, and I only hope that as the years progress, I will not forget what you have taught me, even if unknowingly.

Long years in the past, at the height of my father’s abuse, I made a vow to keep my heart closed, to never trust a soul, for they would assuredly betray that conviction at the soonest opportunity.”

Richard considered his father. He thought on the cruelty and malice he exchanged for performance. He remembered the lengths to which he was expected to go for the heinous old man. But what’s more, the Duke remembered Amelia’s words regarding Hugh.

She had said that he wished to know Richard, that there had been an attempt by his stepmother to remove him from his father’s wrath, but she was no match for him. It was such a better notion than what he had carried around with him for years that the Duke was desperate to accept it.

But how could he?

Richard watched Amelia sleep, his fracturing heart somehow still beating within his ribcage. This would be his chance, the only one he would be afforded, to speak his truth. And though she might not truly hear it, he hoped that Amelia’s subconscious might lock away his words to invisibly comfort her on the lonelier nights.

“I have promised myself to never trust anyone…” He felt a terrible sting in his eyes as his throat was tight and dry. “But…were I to break that vow, it would be for you, Amelia. Were I a better man, I would give you the whole of my body, mind, and spirit. Because…because I am most in love with you.”

Richard stood up and walked to the wall where his wardrobe sat empty. Retrieving his smallest case that would be traveling back with him, he sucked in a breath—shakily and unevenly. With the last of his things, he crept across the floor toward the door,scarcely making a sound. As he approached the door, Richard took care to open it so that the hinges would not squeak.

He cast another look over his shoulder, memorizing the way Amelia looked as she lay there, her pale skin gleaming softly in the growing light of morning that snuck through the drapes. Richard would keep that image locked in his mind for all his day, returning to it at every moment of solitude.

With that, he stepped over the threshold of his room at Heartwick, which would return to beingAmelia’sroom. He set his case down on the floor next to him, closing up the chamber and lying the flat of his hand on the wood. Such pain that threaded through his being was worse even than that he’d experienced under his father’s hand—and this was his own doing.

“Be safe, Amelia. Be happy and be safe.”

Richard turned away from the door, slipping down the hallway as silently as he could. At the end, he found a pair of housemaids readying themselves to visit their chambers. As they ducked their heads before him, Richard paused.

“Do not wake her. Allow the Duchess to sleep.” Their eyes widened, but the women quickly nodded. “When I am gone…after a time, inform the Duchess that there is a separate stipend within the finances that had been set up for an increase in staff wages. I had no mind to use it, I fear. The Duchess will be different. Tell her about it, and she will see fit to employ the funds to better your financial standing.”

The women looked shocked, far too much to speak, so Richard simply offered them a smile and a short nod, leaving from the hallway to make his way to the front hall.

He would be traveling for the better part of half a day, and setting out early would do him good. His valet approached the stairs as Richard descended, and he met the Duke with surprise as well.

“Your Grace, I had meant to fetch you for breakfast. No matter, I shall be happy to assist you in enjoying a hearty meal prior to our departure.”

“That is not necessary, Edward. We shall leave at once.” Edward’s brows knitted together slowly, and he cast a glance at Richard as if he’d heard devastating news. “It is better that we carry forth to Blackford prior to the Duchess’s waking.”

Disappointment and heartbreak smoothed over Edward’s expression, but he was quick to school them away. With a nod, he took Richard’s case and went with him to the door. His valet opened the entrance for him, and Richard paused. He looked back up toward the stairs, imagining the sleeping form of his wife.

“Goodbye…Amelia.”

Richard stepped through, moving swiftly to the carriage parked at the front of Heartwick estate. He practically leaped inside its body, unable to regard the home another time. Richard knew that if he were to glance at it even once more—if he were to seeAmelia standing there on the doorstep calling out to him—that he would never leave Heartwick.

Part of him wished to hear her voice ringing out in the distance behind the carriage as it pulled away from the estate. But he did not. It was quiet this morning, not even a birdcall to give a backdrop to his departure.

The world, it seemed, was quite speechless.

Chapter Twenty-Five

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