Page 47 of The Wrong Duke

“Your mother was beside herself,” her father sniggered. “This wasn’t what I ordered. Who does he think he is? I’ve never been so insulted. And so on,” he sniggered again. “But as I pointed out, the gesture is what matters, and this...” He clicked his tongue. “It’s as good as a proclamation of love.”

Amelia wasn’t listening. Inside the box, folded gently, calling to her it seemed, was the most gorgeous dress that she had ever seen. Made from a weave so fine it was practically gossamer, dark yellow with canary yellow woven through the seams, red about the hems, a feel to it that was like silk through her fingers, it was the dress from her dreams. She remembered instantly where the material had come from, unable to fathom how it had arrived on her doorstep, lost in the excitement of the moment such that it took her a little longer than it should have for her to realize.

“You will wear that dress on the night,” her father was saying. “And when Lord Malnor sees you wearing the dress that he picked out —”

“What?” Her head snapped around as the realization struck her. “Lord Malnor? He’s the one who... who... this was him?”

Her father frowned. “Of course, it was. Who else? Your mother told me how you’d shown an interest in the material in the store, and Lord Malnor must have gone back when you were done and ordered it for you specially. Again, Amelia...” He hesitated, but then, as if it pained him like nothing else, he rested a hand on her knee and gave it a loving squeeze. “You have out done yourself.”

It didn’t make any sense. Amelia eyed the dress in her hands, thinking back to that day in the store, trying to recollect how Lord Malnor had been acting and when he might have done such a thing. And why?! Despite her father’s jubilance and assurances, Amelia knew that she and Lord Malnor weren’t nearly as taken with one another as he would have liked. The fact that he had gone out of his way to do this for her... again, it made no sense.

And she knew this for fact too because for the first time in her life, Amelia knew what it was like to be wanted by somebody... and to want them just as much. Things might not have turned out how she had expected. And her heart was breaking even now because of it. But the embers of that feeling burned softly inside of her, and they in no way had anything to do with Lord Malnor.

“Things are looking up.” Her father rose to his feet and clapped his hands together. “And I must say, I am quite piqued. Yes... very much.” He then rubbed his hands together. “The Galentine Ball, Amelia. The night will live in infamy for you, I am sure. Come this time next week, and everything will be just as it ought to.” His eyes flashed, and in that moment, the look of evil that struck his visage almost made Amelia gasp.

He wasn’t happy that his daughter might find someone to marry and live happily ever after with. He didn’t care about her wellbeing or happiness. This, all of it, was about him. And with his plan having finally come together, as bizarre and unbelievable as it was, he could not have been happier.

As to Amelia and how she felt about it all? Truthfully... she didn’t really care. Oh sure, there was a seed of depression buried deep inside, one that with enough light might grow into something truly heartbreaking. But there was no light left to give, certainly not in her life, so that little seed remained buried and ignored.

Her father wanted this courtship to happen. By the looks of things, it was going to whether she wished it or not. And seeing as there was nobody else in her life to whom she might wish herself promised, that there was no other man that might sweep in and save her from her fate — not anymore — there was really no point in complaining. Broken. Defeated. Bereft of hope. Amelia forced a smile, knowing it might be the last she wore for a very long time.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

It was a strange feeling, hating how good you looked. Knowing that you might have been the most stunning, gorgeous, impossible to look away from person in a room while wishing it wasn’t the case. To walk into a room and see heads turn, to notice conversations literally stop as mouths gaped in your direction, was a dream that any lady of thetonshould have desired above all else.

Even Amelia, once upon a time, had harbored such fancies. She could remember the first ball she ever attended, what she had assumed would be the best night of her life, one that she had spent months preparing for because she wanted her name to be on the lips of every single person in attendance. She had imagined stampedes forming as men rushed to meet her. She had pictured women weeping because they didn’t look as splendid as she. In the end, it had been a modest affair, for the dress her mother had forced on her that night was as shapeless as it was plain.

Tonight was different. Tonight was a dream come to life. Tonight was a once in a lifetime experience in which those fancies of youth finally came to fruition in ways that she couldn’t have expected. When she entered the Galentine Ball, when she swept into the monstruous hall filled with hundreds of her contemporaries all vying for the affections of various lords and ladies, there was no doubt from the looks on the faces of those whom she passed that she was the bell of the ball, and everybody else could only hope to contend with second best.

Funny that she didn’t give a damn.

“Lord Malnor has his work cut out for him tonight,” her father chortled as he walked her through the hall, smiling broadly to those who they passed, nodding and smirking to himself as if this was his doing.

“It looks like it,” she said simply, noting the eyes on her but not caring for them one little bit. “A shame he wasn’t with us earlier. I thought he might have liked to see the dress he picked out.”

“Yes well, as he said, he had business to attend.” He didn’t sound happy about it, and indeed, he’d been nothing short of furious earlier. “But no matter, he will be here tonight. Besides, maybe seeing all these men gaping will remind him of how lucky he is.”

“I’m sure it will,” she responded pleasantly, albeit not pleasantly enough. Amelia caught her father side-eying her, and she forced a smile and fluttered her eyelashes. “I look forward to seeing him. I’ve...” She choked on the words but forced them out. “I’ve missed him.”

Her father nodded his agreement and then looked ahead as he continued to lead her through the ball.

It was a packed event. The hall was at least twice the size of the last ball she had attended, a veritable colosseum for how spacious it felt. There must have been hundreds of people in attendance, and that wasn’t to mention the scores of servers moving through the crowds with trays balanced on their arms filled with drinks and nibbles.

As was always the case with these events, it was the colors that captured the eye. The women were dressed in bright frocks of reds and yellows and greens and oranges and blues, all colored in every conceivable shade, paired with jewelry that shone and sparkled in the candlelight, matched to their fine make-up and lavish hairstyles and sashes and braids and crowns beset with bright stones worth more than their weight in gold. Even the men, nowhere near as colorfully dressed, still wore suits styled to match their partners; cravats and cummerbunds worn in darker shades of the same color.

And even still, among it all, Amelia managed to stand out from the rest.

Her dress looked even better than she could have hoped. The dark yellow highlighted the soft tones of her milk-colored skin perfectly. The way it clung to her waist and scooped under her neckline was both elegant and just the right amount of bodacious. Her light-brown hair was worn in curls with ribbons to match her dress woven throughout. And her jewelry was mostly rubies, pairing perfectly with the dress and its red hems.

She had no doubt that Lord Malnor would like it. No doubt that he’d agree with the choice he’d made in picking it. No doubt that, come the end of the night, if everything went to her father’s plans, he would officially court her, and the next phase of her life would begin. The only thing she doubted was her ability to stomach it and present an agreeable front that wouldn’t turn the man off.

And it wasn’t even that she didn’t like Lord Malnor. The truth was, he was pleasant enough, friendly to speak with, and rather handsome also. Nothing wrong with the man at all, such that Amelia knew she should have been grateful for the match. Things could have been much worse. But Amelia felt like a child who had been given candy before the main course; her appetite was spoiled, knowing now how sweet things could be while knowing how bad for her it was to want more.

It was, of course, His Grace the Duke of Northrade of whom she thought.

Three days had come and gone since that afternoon spent in the cabin. Three days of wishing. Three days of wanting. Three days of wondering if maybe, just maybe, the Duke would change his mind and come to her. Three days of knowing it was never going to happen because she had told him not to.

Had Amelia made a mistake? She’d spent a lot of time considering the possibility. When he had told her that they couldn’t see one another again, should she have argued further? Should she have refused to accept? And if she had, would he have seen the folly of his suggestion and agreed that he’d do anything he could for them to be together. Did he even care to?

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