Regency Romance Omnibus 2018: Dominate Dukes & Tenacious Women

He turned his mind from the painful prospect and continued with logic. It would be a dishonorable thing for Lord Rochester to hear it from gossip after he was gone. And he was going, today, but before he left he would sign a betrothal contract. It was legal and binding. Neither one of them could step out of it without utter disgrace, something he was sure she would not be willing to entertain. This was absolutely important for the future and any child born out of their ill-timed union. It was for the best, even if she was reticent.

***

Amelia was made of stern stuff, but she could not find it in herself to go down and face her father when she had spent the night in debauchery with a peer of the realm and, more importantly, a guest of his. It didn’t matter that he did not have an inkling of the ill timed act or even that she had spent a night outside of the haven of her home. None of the servants would risk her ill will to tell their lord, nor would Robert himself stoop to such levels as to divulge such crass happenings, but she could not shake the heavy ache in her belly. She was a fallen woman and surely, because she was doomed, the whole world would know it too.

That did not take the brunt of her pain. Robert was an infernal duke with his heart hidden away. His eyes had been compelling as she enjoyed the expertise of his finger skimming her skin. The ghosts of the touches of last night invaded her senses again and she shuddered.

Mary noticed the shiver racking her lady’s frame and exclaimed, “My lady, have you taken ill?”

"No, Mary.” Mary nodded but surreptitiously added mustard powder to the steaming bath water and moved to undress her lady.

Amelia wondered if she would ever be free of the encounter. It hung over her like the sword of Damocles, threatening to sever all happiness. Yet she treasured it to herself dearly too.

Mary noticed the mangled stay strings and wondered out loud. "Did you tend to yourself?" It was a question that had no true answer and its aim was more than enquiry about dressing and undressing. Amelia did not answer but limited herself to grunting softly. But when she stripped to her chemise another shock was waiting for her.

The white material was stained red and for a moment of fear she thought that it was the proof of her maidenhood that spilled but then she remembered last night and she recalled also that the clothing had been pristine when she had donned them. The answer filtered through her mind, eclipsing fear for a while.

"Are you ruined, milady?" The question was heavy and Mary had summed a good amount of her courage. Her concern was bleeding though.

Amelia did not pause to answer. “It is only my courses,” she replied as airily as possible.

Amelia washed herself, refusing Mary’s fussing. She lay in the metal tub as Mary puttered up and down. But she could not hide forever and soon got out of the bath and started to dress. She put on the things Mary brought her: the long pad of cloth, the belt and the binder that held it in place. At least she did not suffer at this time like many women were wont to. She could not very well bear that and her current shame.

Mary brought a pale green dress of muslin and all the petticoats and stockings to her lady.

"Will you be having breakfast at your convenience?" Mary asked as she passed on a shift to her. The gruff tone told Amelia more than anything she was aware of the undertone in the room.

Amelia considered it only for a moment before she agreed, putting the shift and stays on. Mary turned to her back and began to lace it up. "I want a full breakfast brought up," she instructed. Thinking on what had happened had kept the hunger at bay, but once noticed it became an urgent and rabid need.

Mary nodded and notched the laces tighter. "Not so tight, Mary. I cannot breathe."

"I’m sorry, milady. What shall I tell your father, if he enquires after you?" Mary answered and loosened her hand. The question brought the ugly matters to head and made Amelia anxious.

"Tell him I’m suffering a female malady." Amelia returned curtly, trying to cut off any other leading questions. Not only did it aggravate her, it showed her too clearly this was a pathetic attempt to close the stable door after the horse had bolted. She stepped into the petticoats and Mary tied them off at the back.

The soft material flowed over the underthings and its inert form was given elegant form. Mary fastened the row of small hooks down the front of her day gown with her anxious expression hovering. Amelia kept her own face blank.

She signaled no to Mary, who tried to braid her hair, and told her instead. “A simple coiffure perhaps, I will spend a better part of the day in my own company.”

Mary muttered at the oddness of her mistress this morning and did as she was told. Amelia knew that gossip would be rife in the household. Even if she trusted Mary her silence would only fan the flames.

Amelia rested on her bed and Mary attempted to clear away all the evidences of a bath. When she had closed the door behind her, Amelia released the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Notoriety did not suit her in the least. She was wise to postpone going down to breakfast and facing her father’s sincere gaze and Robert’s own eyes filled with censure and veiled disgust.

She patted her bodice and turned back into bed. She would be a coward today, something her entire being usually rebelled strongly against. Today she would put off going down. She was happy to miss the accusing eyes, the undeniable evidence that last night had happened, that and the moments of remembrance. Even if she could never forget it.

Mary returned with a chamber maid who was carrying the makings of a hearty meal. Her stomach growled and Amelia reached for the offered cup of hot chocolate. Dining in the comfort of her room, Amelia missed an important battle. Lord Windon was more than pleased to have not had her to deal with as well.

Chapter Eleven

Lord Windon reached up to dip the tip of the quill in the ink pot. He scrapped the excess ink off the top and signed his signature with a flourish on the paper.

Lord Rochester’s solicitor, Mister Smythe, pulled another sheaf from his pile and tendered then to Lord Windon.

"Does this contain the condition I want affixed?" Windon accepted the paper offered.

"Yes sir. But I must say..." The solicitor started to explain but Lord Windon paid more attention to the paper in front of him.

"Is it legal?" He glanced through the papers.