Page 1 of The Duke of Fire (The Dukes of Desire #1)

“ A melia! Come here, right this instant!” Octavia’s shrill shriek broke through Amelia’s deep concentration.

She had been so focused on her work that it was too late when she heard her sister-in-law yelling for her. Knowing Octavia, though, she would not have called for her softly at all. She always demanded her presence for one errand or another.

I wonder what ridiculous request she has for me this time.

Struggling to stay still despite the constant screaming, she drew an elegant curve across the parchment she was writing on before she straightened up to attend to the woman in distress.

“I am coming!” she cried, although her teeth clenched from controlling her annoyance.

She cursed under her breath as she had to close the two books she had been working on instantly and without her usual care and attention.

One was a commissioned translation of a French book, while the other one was a translation of a scandalous book she was writing for…

her personal amusement. She shoved both of them in her satchel, forgetting to carefully take note which was which.

They will have to wait. After all, someone’s world seems to be ending.

Amelia rushed to Octavia’s bedchambers, where her sister-in-law lay on her bed, rubbing a pregnant belly that was barely showing yet.

“What took you so long?” Octavia demanded from her throne of cushions. Her face was flushed more from irritation than actual discomfort and exertion; that much was obvious.

“I was occupied with… something. What do you need?” Amelia replied in a calm voice. If there was ever the sound of honest displeasure in her tone, she could not help it.

“Well, I must say you are incredibly selfish. You know well that your sister-in-law is with child, and could need your help any time.”

“I am sorry, Octavia. What do you need help with?”

“I was calling you to rub my feet, and you took your time before responding!” Octavia wailed.

Amelia looked at Octavia’s flat belly pointedly. Even as she did, the rest of her face remained expressionless while she stood with her hands clasped in front of her. She prepared herself for the usual manufactured woes.

“You are so irresponsible! What if anything were to have happened to me or my baby?”

“I was occupied with something important,” Amelia replied, still calm.

“Important? Do not make me laugh. The only people who consider reading those trivial books important are you and your silly friends.”

Amelia did not respond. She knew what a bait sounded like, and nothing good would come out of arguing with her half-brother’s wife.

She was proud of her work, and she knew she was good at it, but saying so would be ill-advised at this point.

If anyone knew she was working for a publisher in secret, she would end up being severely punished.

Or worse. She took a deep breath instead.

I cannot risk losing my work, my only opportunity to escape. Not now.

“You have nothing to say, don’t you? So selfish,” Octavia repeated sullenly. “I have been waiting for you to bring me some tea and rub my feet. Do you know how hard carrying a child is? If you do not care about me, you should at least care about your brother and his baby.”

“I am more than willing to help you with anything you need, Octavia. But you could have rung for a maid to bring you tea and rub your feet,” Amelia responded reasonably. She tried to keep even the slightest edge from her tone because she knew Octavia would hear it and make a bigger fuss.

“If I were calling you , it is because I need you , not just any maid, Amelia. I think you know by now that I cannot trust the maids to prepare tea the way the baby likes it. What if something happens to him?”

Amelia very much doubted that the entire issue was about the baby. Octavia was doing her utmost best to sound so helpless when she had always been in the pink of health. No, this was about Octavia putting Amelia to her ‘place’.

“We have perfectly trustworthy maids, Octavia. Your baby is not due for several more months. I am sure all will be fine.”

However, Amelia knew there was no point arguing with a pregnant woman whose only intention was to make life difficult for her. This had been her behavior from the day she had set foot into the house. She now simply had a reason to justify it.

“I do not trust any of those envious chits around me or my husband. But you are Finch’s half-sister.

I am certain that your mother trained you to take care of not just the household, but of everything else,” Octavia replied, sounding like a haughty matron even though she was two-and-twenty, only two years younger than Amelia.

At the mention of her mother, Amelia bit her inner cheeks.

She should have been used to the insults by now.

She was, after all, the daughter of a maid who had dared to fall in love with her employer and had risen in station.

What she could never stomach, though, was the implication that her mother had been a fortune hunter. Shaking her head, she exhaled slowly.

“Octavia, this is ridiculous. Just because my mother was a maid before her marriage, it does not mean that I—”

“What is the matter here?” Finch, the Viscount of Warton, entered the room furiously. Amelia could see the scene through his eyes: his pregnant wife, red-faced and huffing, and his half-sister standing rigidly a few feet away.

How can he not see that Octavia is faking it?

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 a heart?”

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, her brother 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 the ton .

“This should not take long,” Amelia replied, gesturing with the letter in her hand. “However, you may take shelter if need be.”

Mary nodded with uncertainty. “There is the bookseller’s awning. I will wait for you there, Miss, if that is all right. I easily get sick.”

Amelia knew that Mary’s concern was warranted. If she ever got sick, Finch and Octavia would not hesitate to turn her away and replace her with someone sturdier. So, she picked up her pace and proceeded to deliver the letter to the scrawled address.

She knocked at the door, and a butler responded. When he saw the letter, he frowned, but there was no surprise on his face. He simply nodded at her and hastily closed the door. No greetings. No words.

Mission accomplished. Well, at least her mission for Octavia was accomplished. Even though she felt the butler was rude, it was done. Hopefully, that would be the last time she would personally have to deliver a letter for her sister-in-law.

Then, the droplets of rain fell, as if on cue. They quickly became harsh, pounding hard, stinging her face and arms.

“Oh, no!” she exclaimed, trying to cover as much of herself with her shawl, but she was already drenched. “Mary!”

The rain seemed bent on punishing her just like Octavia enjoyed doing.

This was her life now. It used to be a happy life once, even though she had never been accepted by the ton , just because her mother was a maid who had married a viscount.

At least, then, she had people who loved and cared for her.

“Mary?” she called when she reached the bookseller’s place.

There was no sign of her maid. She probably made a run for it after the rain started pouring, and it had no plans to die down anytime soon. As she walked a little more, everything seemed to whirl around her and fade to gray with the torrents, making her unable to discern anything.

What do I do now?