Page 77 of A Duchess to Reclaim

“No apologies necessary, Your Grace,” Jonathan answered immediately. “We are under strict orders to protect you at any costs. Any time you feel unsafe, you must tell us right away.”

Tears filled Amelia’s eyes again, and she turned her head away from him to hide them.

“Thank you, Jonathan,” she replied, her tone wavering. Without another word, she finished walking up the steps, paused inside only briefly to speak with Ophelia, and went to bed for the rest of the night.

CHAPTERNINETEEN

“Bloody hell, get out my way,” Dominic slurred, shoving the object that had stoved his foot. His hands connected with solid wood and he blinked his blurry eyes; the shape of a bureau coming into view.

It hadn’t been a person that had hurt him. It was a damned piece of furniture. Sighing wearily, Dominic leaned against the chest of drawers. The world spun as he looked over Amelia’s abandoned bedroom; misery beating down on him.

She was gone. He’d hoped as the days of her absence grew into weeks that the hurt in his chest would go away- but instead it had only worsened. He missed her. Terribly.

And every time he got drunk- which was now quite often, he ended up here. In her rooms. He hadn’t slept in his own bed in days. Instead opting to fall drunk and unconscious into Amelia’s old sheets, which he refused to allow the maids to strip away.

Amelia had given him everything he wanted by accepting who he was. He should be happy, grateful. But instead he felt nothing but contempt for the woman that had made him feel.

Dominic righted himself, then stumbled toward the front of the bureau. She’d taken most of her things, leaving the top of the bureau empty. Even though he suspected the drawers to be the same, he opened them anyway; hoping for something he could not quite identify.

When he found the drawers empty Dominic felt another surge of anger, and he slammed his hands down onto the bureau, cursing. As he did so, the top right drawer let loose apop, and the bottom sprung open. Dominic swayed on his feet as he ripped the false bottom out of the drawer, and there, hidden away, was a stack of letters.

Gathering them up, he stumbled toward the bed, and fell awkwardly into the twisted sheets.

“What is this?” He grumbled, fumbling with the first letter atop the stack.

Through his drunken haze he mangled the envelope until he finally got the letter loose, then his heart stopped as his eyes alighted on the daintily scribbled words.

Dear Dominic,

I know these words will never reach you, as I will never send them. Even if I would, I doubt you would read them. But I need an outlet, so this is for me, not you.

Through his drunken sadness Dominic smiled, picturing the no-doubt haughty look his wife probably had on her face as she wrote such taunting words.

I do not know if I will ever see you again. From what I hear, it is doubtful. I have been told that you have a certain way you do things, and that you do not deviate from them for anyone. So I do not expect you to deviate for me, even if we are now married.

Since I did not get the opportunity to do this in person I will take it here now: Thank you. Thank you for saving me from the auction. From my father. I am angry with you for leaving so quickly after our wedding, but that does not mean I not grateful for the new path you have placed me on. Ellsworth manor is beautiful, and as peaceful as you promised.

Even with your absence and obvious lack of affection for me, I believe I will find happiness here. Speaking of your absence, since you are not here to negate me I have decided to do a little redecorating…

Dominic felt his sobriety slowly return as he read through the later. At the bottom it was signed,Your Wife, Amelia.

He tore open another, hungry for her words. The second one had more vitriol than the first as she felt more comfortable revealing her angry feelings toward him. Still, after she’d written her curses out, she’d described her days. What she’d done to the manor thus far, what she’d discovered. Signed again withYour Wife, Amelia.

He read through them all, finally getting a true glimpse into the world he’d abandoned Amelia in. Her hostility toward him was clear, yes- but so was her intense gratitude. Even when she wrote vile curses directed at him, they all ended in thanks.

When he finished the last letter Dominic’s stomach was in painful knots, and it had nothing to do with the vast amounts of whiskey he drank. He’d done this. Left her.Again.Only this time he hadn’t just hurt his wife. He’d hurt himself. Filled with savage regret and self-pity, Dominic lowered his head to Amelia’s pillow and wallowed in her lingering scent. It was fading by the day. Soon it wouldn’t be there at all, and he would be left with nothing but the letters filled with curses and thanks.

“Dominic? Dominic! Where the bloody hell are you, man?!”

Dominic’s head shot up too quickly, making the whole world spin. He scrambled off the bed just in time to spare the sheets from his onslaught, and wretched onto the floor. He let out an agonizing groan as two sets of footsteps came hurriedly into the room.

“Jesus,” Everett’s voice seemed to boom from above.

Dominic winced at the loudness, his head starting to split in two.

“Not so loud,” he groaned, shaking his head.

Everett sighed as he and Tristan came to Dominic’s sides, and they both pulled him to his feet.

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