Page 2 of The Duke of Fire
Amelia almost shook her head in disbelief, but she controlled herself. She knew better by now that saying anything would only turn against her. Besides, Finch’s frown showed he had already drawn his conclusions.
“Thank goodness you are here, Finch!” Octavia gasped, fanning herself with her ornate fan as she slumped deeper into her pillows. “I am feeling faint, and… and Amelia is yelling at me. I asked her for a simple favor, but as always, she has been terrible to me. She believes I am merely being overdramatic! I was only asking for some water because I was too dizzy to get up!”
“That is not true!” Amelia began, her eyes widening in horror at the somewhat expected turn of events. “Finch, you know I would never—”
“Imagine if you had not come at this very moment,” Octavia continued lamenting, moving her head left and right—back and forth—on her pillows, so Amelia thought she would be truly dizzy soon. “I am worried about our baby, Finch. Overexertion cannot be good for him.”
The viscount quickly rushed to his wife, caressing her hair and kneeling at her side. Then, he turned to his sister and barked, “You should be ashamed of yourself. How can you treat a pregnant woman like that? She is not feeling well!”
Amelia thought about how the house used to be full of light when her father and mother were still alive, and Finch was still under their father’s discipline. Life had changed drastically after the accident that took them.
“Finch, she looks perfectly—” Amelia began, only to be interrupted again.
“Enough of that!” Finch bellowed while also taking his wife’s hand in his. The woman was still dramatically fanning herself. One would think she was close to giving birth at three months long. “You are constantly provoking her. But look at her, Amelia. She is with child! She is carrying my son! Do you not have aheart?”
Amelia looked. Oh, she did. But she knew that what she would see would differ from what Finch would see. Her brother saw a helpless wife, but she saw the smirk playing on Octavia’s lips. Amelia prided herself on her patience, but even saints would have to complain about her sister-in-law’s dramatic antics and abuse, and Finch’s blindness to what his wife truly was.
“I do have a heart, and you know it,” Amelia retorted. “However, I also know when ailments are imagined and fainting fits are used to—”
“I want you out of my sight!” Finch commanded, his face red with fury. It was a shade darker than his wife’s current coloring, although Octavia looked like she was already cooling down and relaxing. After all, she just had her daily source of entertainment—making Amelia’s life a living hell.
“I will gladly go,” Amelia replied, lifting her chin and straightening her spine.
However, a burst of miraculous recovery went through Octavia as she jumped out of bed and ran to her writing table. “No, wait. Before you go, Amelia, I need you to deliver a letter for me. It is urgent.”
“Right now? It is almost dark outside, and the footman will leave with the letters tomorrow morning,” Amelia pointed out.
“Amelia,” Octavia whined. “While I could have asked the footman, I would prefer your speed and discretion.”
Or simply to have me run errands and do chores to punish me.
Finch was quick to agree, nodding vigorously. Amelia wondered what had happened to the proud boy she once knew. Yes, herbrother had never liked her—not really—but he was not anyone’s fool. Marriage had reduced the new viscount to just that.
“Do as Octavia says. Stop tiring her.” The warning was clear in his voice.
Amelia could only take a long breath and look at the heavens for some patience. “All right, then. I will take Mary, and we will deliver the letter.”
She pocketed the missive, at least glad that she could finally leave the room. She sought her lady’s maid, Mary, as she needed someone to accompany her. On the surface, Amelia looked as calm as usual. But anyone who looked closely enough would see her fingers trembling as she tied her bonnet.
At least I can stop by the publisher and hand in the translation.
“Mary, we have a duty to fulfill today,” she announced, with the same steady voice she used whenever she was trying to mask her unease. Meandering the streets after dark could be dangerous, and she was certain that neither Finch nor Octavia would care to look for her if she was late.
“Yes, Miss Warton,” Mary replied politely.
The maid followed her with no complaints. As they were walking down the street, Amelia could not help but peruse the letter. It bore no name, which was odd. Octavia also did not use a seal, but the letter carried a heavy perfume that Amelia was not familiar with. Her sister-in-law used a more subtle scent at home. She wrote her initials, though, like a signal for the receiver.
Who are you writing to, dear sister-in-law?
Amelia knew she could not linger on that question. She decided to use the evening outing to her advantage. The translation was done. Octavia’s timing was right in that regard. She had something to deliver to the publisher, provided that they would make it there in time before closing.
London felt unusually still and quiet for the hour. It was perhaps because the clouds were dark and low. With a glance at the sky, Mary hesitated for the first time while following her mistress.
“It is going to rain, Miss Warton,” the maid said. “Do you think we should turn back now? We did not bring an umbrella, and it is getting quite dark.”
For what it was worth, Amelia did not even bring a parasol. She rarely brought one, and for that, she was considered unfashionable. Umbrellas protected women from the rain, while parasols protected their complexions. She cared for neither. She was not exactly popular in theton.
“This should not take long,” Amelia replied, gesturing with the letter in her hand. “However, you may take shelter if need be.”
