Page 41 of The Scandal of the Deceived Duchess
Ignoring his son, the duke indicated with his hand that the first course be served. “Dear, we are having smoked salmon…is that all right? Are you able to have it or shall I arrange for some soup to be made?”
Amelia nodded. “Yes, Your Grace, it is one of my favorites; I very much enjoy smoked salmon.”
“Excellent. I must say, you look better already.” He patted her on the arm gently.
While the duke spoke with his son about affairs of the family, Amelia watched the butler expertly prepare the salmon by slicing thin pieces off of the entire cured fish that lay on a wooden board in the same shape as the salmon. This act always intrigued her. The knife was long and razor thin.
At that moment, she realized that despite her predicament she was hungry. When one of the footmen asked her how she took her salmon, Amelia informed him that she liked it with all of the garnishings that consisted of capers, chopped onion, lemon and crushed boiled eggs.
When everyone was served, the three of them started to eat. It did not take long for the conversation to strike up again. “So, Amelia, what of the wedding date? Your parents and myself did not make any progress on that front after hearing of your abduction.” He raised an eyebrow. “Horrible was it?”
“The wedding discussions, Your Grace?”
The duke hooted laughter. “No, dear girl…your time in captivity in the Americas? I hear they are quite barbaric,” said the duke setting his cutlery on his plate and indicating to the butler that he was ready for the next course. “Are they uncivilized?” he added, returning his scrutiny to his future daughter-in-law.
Amelia scrunched her brow. She fidgeted a little in her seat. To be frank, she did not know what to say. She had great respect for the duke and she did not want to lie to him. It was not the way her mother had brought her up. “Actually, the Americans are not all that different to us.”
The duke arched an eyebrow as he took a sip of wine. “Really,” he said, setting the glass back on the table.
“Poppycock, the yanks are a despicable bunch,” intoned Lord Templeton French.
“Expert on the subject, are you?” asked the duke, forcing Amelia to stifle a laugh. “As far as I know you have never been there, my boy. So, be quiet and allow one with the authority on the matter to talk about it,” he regarded Amelia once again, “please continue, my dear. For it was you who has been to the infernal country.”
It felt as if an entire apple had gotten stuck in her throat. So nervous was she. She was grateful when the butler, who brought the main course, briefly distracted the duke. Unlike in most aristocratic households, Amelia had come to learn that the Duke of Brandon despised multiple course luncheons. He had said so to her father during their previous encounter. He claimed that it was a despicable French tradition that had somehow found its way into good English society. In his view, a starter, a main course and pudding were sufficient for any man or woman.
It certainly was better than when Amelia’s mother presided over the organization of luncheon. Generally, there were at least eight courses and each of them accompanied by their own wine. Amelia had been most surprised when she had returned to England a week ago because her father had grown as plump as a watermelon during her absence. Obviously, mother had been taking her duties as lady Carlyle, 1st Baronet of Windom, most seriously and with her customary flourish.
“So, Amelia. You were about to regale us with your tale of the Americas. I am indeed intrigued as to what happened.” He frowned. “You do not have to say anything if it is too taxing, my dear,” said the duke when he saw a shadow cross over Amelia’s face.
“No, Your Grace, I would be delighted to regale you with tales of my adventures.”
“Adventures, eh?” said the duke, popping some beef into his mouth with a smirk.
And so, Amelia told the duke and her betrothed of what had happened since the taking of the HMSCapricornby theTriton. She made a special emphasis to describe her American captors as benevolent men that comported themselves in a gentlemanly fashion. She also went into great detail when she spoke of the beauty of the land. Also, there could not have been more praise for Fair Weather Heaths’ and the slaves that lived there.
“It sounds like you loved the place?” scoffed Lord Templeton French.
“Yes, you do sound rather fond of it,” added the duke. “Nothing wrong with that. It’s just a shame we lost the damn place to the locals, eh?” He chuckled before taking another sip of wine. “And all of it because of some infernal tax and a lack of representation.” He moved closer to Amelia. “If you ask me, I think they were bloody right. Who wants to pay taxes, eh?”
“What I can’t quite get my head around is why you were so close to the Canadian border in the first place? There had been no news of a letter confirming reception of my offer to pay ransom and no response on my part as to where to deliver you upon the exchange of money for you. Nothing…no response came from this…what was his name,” Lord Templeton French creased his brow, “Ah, yes! Captain Jonathan Mitchell.”
Amelia nearly choked on her wine when she heard the name of the man she loved coming from the mouth of her betrothed.
“Take a sip of water, dear,” said the duke, soothingly.
Amelia did not have much time until her betrothed urged her for an answer. “Captain Jonathan Mitchell is a gentleman and a man of honor. He initially demanded a payment for my release because he was required to do so by the state and also for his crew who would naturally receive their share. In the end, he decided to recompense them out of his own pocket and to return me to my people without reimbursement.” The words came out of her mouth with verve and zeal.
“Sounds like quite the gentleman,” said the duke. “I did not know they made such men over in the colonies,” he chuckled, “the United States of America,” he corrected himself.
“It wasn’t that long ago that they were part of the empire. And besides, Jonathan descends from a noble line…” her hand flew to her mouth when she realized the mistake she had made.
“You certainly became rather familiar with our American naval captain,” sneered Lord Templeton French coldly. “You referred to the man as Jonathan; I doubt if I would refer to my captor on a first name basis.”
“I don’t know what you are implying?” Amelia said, mustering all of her self-control.
“You do not need to respond to that highly unwarranted and uncouth remark, my dear.” The duke then directed an expression of disdain at his son. “How dare you speak to a lady like that in this house. You will apologize, I tell you,” snarled the duke.
The strength of his voice nearly made Amelia slide under the table. Sitting next to her was a real man. A man like Jonathan. Her gaze shifted to her betrothed. He looked like a man with conflicted emotions. His thin evil lips twitched, but he did not dare glower at his father head-on. “I apologize for insinuating any form of familiarity on your part with the American pirate,” said Lord Templeton French at last. He did not look up. Instead, he continued to devote all of his attention to the food on his plate.
