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Her words were a mortifying beg, and there was nothing Amelia could do about it. There was little in the universe she wouldn’t give for the satisfaction of finally tumbling over the cliff she sat perched on.

“Sweet, sweet Amelia,” Richard nipped at her bottom lip, his fingers spreading her before sinking inside as far as he could reach, “let me see you fall apart.”

With that, his work started up again, and it was blinding in the sheer intensity of it all. He filled her up, reaching the depths of her before hooking onto a miraculous area within that made her see stars. Amelia seized up, everything exploding as the climax washed over her.

It dragged on until she was a useless puddle of herself. Only then did Richard pull back, looking down at her like the cat who’d had his cream—and caught a mouse to boot.

“That’s such a good girl.”

Chapter Eleven

Sitting in the drawing room with her friends gathered was supposed to be a way to distract her mind. And still, Amelia could not stop dwelling on the events of the previous evening.

How could I do that?

Mortification, utter and pure, coated her like a wet gown. She’d begged Richard to allow her release, actually begged, and her own words were haunting her with every moment.

Even worse, the bliss that had followed, the way that it had been so much sweeter for the torturous teasing that had come before it, was one that Amelia was already desperate to feel again.

“Your Grace? Are you quite well? You don’t appear to be listening at all.”

Amelia turned toward Charlotte, who’d come with Magnus to hear of her complaints. It was hardly a proper arrangement withonly two of her friends in tow, so Selina, Ethel, and Isaac had also come for a visit. The drawing room was a comfortable type of crowded with them all gathered, but Amelia was too stressed to find ease in their presence.

“Apologies, Lady Charlotte. I am distracted.” She pinched the bridge of her nose before continuing, offering her friend an apologetic smile. “I fear that as of yet, the attempts to dissuade Ri—the Duke’s remaining at Heartwick have been unsuccessful.”

When she looked upon her closest friend, Charlotte mirrored her sorrowful expression, and even Magnus’s brow rose up and knitted together, the only indication his stoic countenance would give of his sympathy for Amelia.

“Dearest Amelia, I am so sorry. But you should not give up.” Charlotte took her hand as Ethel and Selina walked over and took up spots on the settee surrounding her. “Your freedom means far too much to you to simply abandon your plan after only a short while. I will not see my sweet friend so miserable for the remainder of her days.”

The support warmed Amelia, and she allowed herself to be comforted somewhat by her friends. When she released a heavy sigh, standing from the small sofa to move nearer the fire, gazing into the flames, Amelia was quickly approached by Isaac.

She turned, her brows up as she regarded him, and Isaac met her stare with intensity.

“Lady Charlotte is right, Amelia.” He nodded once, and then suddenly, the man was wrapped around her in an embrace. “Oh, you must not give in. Never do such a thing for the Duke. You must try with everything you have to get His Grace to return to the countryside.”

Tension rippled through Amelia, and the feeling of soggy grime only tripled as Isaac clung to her a moment too long. The Dukewouldleave if her plan was successful, and the idea…

Why does it upset me so?

“Of course you are right, Isaac. I should not so hastily put my plan to the side.”

Still, her friend had still yet to let go of her arms, and Amelia looked down at where Isaac gripped her, nodding as she blinked at him—a sign that she wished to be unhanded.

Isaac cleared his throat, abruptly stepping back. “Apologies, Your Grace. I was swept up in it all.”

Offering a simple nod of her head, Amelia forced a grin. As it was, nausea clung to her, visions of the Duke’s infuriating scowl and intoxicating performance mingling together in her mind. It all swam and spun, and Amelia had to swallow down hard as she breathed through her nose.

I cannot want that again. It is insanity and likely only some Banbury tale acted out through words of seduction and yearning.

“Your Grace,” Charlotte cut in from the settee, standing and approaching Amelia with a hand extended, “may I have a word with you for a moment? I believe a bit of a walkabout might aid in your distress.”

A tremble of anxiety touched Amelia’s spine. Charlotte was a clever woman despite what others might think of her, and the Duchess had a feeling that her friend had seen something in her reaction to Isaac’s words.

“Of course, Lady Charlotte.”

Amelia stepped away from the fire, linking her arm through Charlotte’s, and the two of them stepped into the hall and down a few paces where they might talk more privately. As a servant passed by, Charlotte turned and faced Amelia head-on, waiting for the woman to be out of earshot and on her way to the kitchens.

When, at last, the moment was clear, she spoke. “Amelia, what bothers you? And do not simply put forth the notion of a foiled plot. You’ve never once been so concerned for the likes of that before, and this is obviously more important as it concerns your freedom here at Heartwick to do as you wish.”