Page 37 of The Mistress (Foxgloves #1)
AMELIA
L eave.
For five days now, that word and the absolute disgust with which he delivered it had not left Amelia.
She made it out of Gideon’s Townhouse that night. Made it back to Coventry House. She didn’t tell anyone what transpired. The staff, in all their faithfulness, didn’t breathe a word. Lydia and Thomas didn’t know, but they noticed her despondency as much as she tried to hide it in the days that followed. They had asked after her. Lydia stayed close. Thomas’s attention was tangible.
Amelia hated herself for her failure in hiding her misery. It was unbearably selfish, even if she was trying. They were getting married in two days. Lydia and Thomas should only be thinking of themselves, full of joyous excitement that should be smothering everyone around them. And they were, but they were also clearly worried about her.
Still, she kept at her attempts to hide her heartbreak. She made sure her face was always cheerful, even if she knew they weren’t buying it, and pretended she was fine. She had gotten through her failed hopes the first time, she told herself. This was just another turn about the same course. Only at night, when it was just her and her unending loneliness, did she let reality crush her.
Leave. Leave. Leave.
Now, five days later, she sat on the couch in the drawing room alone, putting the final touches on Lydia’s gown. The staff were well underway with readying Coventry House for the wedding and packing for their departure directly after. Lydia and Thomas would proceed to their honeymoon, while Amelia would move back to the cottage. She had already written to Walters and Mrs. Nichols to expect her. Amelia had been away from home far too long, and after the whirlwind of the past two months, it was time for her to return to her life.
Lost to the mind-numbing task of finishing Lydia’s dress, which she was determined to make perfect, she didn’t immediately hear the door opening and others joining her. She looked up to see Lydia following Thomas into the room, a look of dread and anger mingled together on her face. That pulled Amelia fully to the moment, concerned by what put that expression on her sweet, calm sister’s face. But she didn’t even need to ask.
With horror, she watched as the Duke of Birmingham strode into the room.
She forgot the dress in her lap entirely. She forgot Lydia. She forgot Thomas. All she knew in that moment was the piercing green gaze and harsh beauty focused solely on her without apology. So severe was her shock, she didn’t notice how different this was from the past few weeks and how his face was absent of any hostility.
A lifetime passed in a single moment. His gaze swept down her. Not with heat, but with curious concern, as if checking to make sure she was alright. An echo of pain rippled in her chest in response to his scrutiny. His perusal ended where it began, back on her face, and his eyes darkened, brows pinching together. She didn’t have time to wonder at it as Thomas spoke, reminding her they weren’t alone. Neither one of them pulled their eyes from the other, however.
“We have a guest,” he announced unnecessarily. “I forgot to mention, Amelia, I had invited Gideon to spend the next few nights leading up to the wedding with us. He will be my best man during the ceremony.”
Amelia felt the blood drain from her face, and she thought she was going to vomit. Her panicked eyes shot to Thomas before turning to Lydia, whose face was thick with displeasure.
Amelia felt lightheaded, getting further and further adrift. Her breaths were coming out rapidly, and she vaguely wondered if she was going to pass out. It was a good thing she was already sitting down, she thought wildly, as she struggled to breathe. She couldn’t get a real breath in.
So lost was she in trying to pull in oxygen, she didn’t notice Gideon had moved until he was standing directly in front of her. The worry she had glimpsed on his features had deepened dramatically. He took her hand without permission, and the back reaches of her mind registered the current still run through her from the point of contact with his skin. His other hand grasped her elbow, and he urged her to stand, Lydia’s dress falling from her lap.
“Look at me,” he said.
She couldn’t. She couldn’t find his face. Couldn’t focus on it. Couldn’t focus on anything except the struggle to breathe. Her heart was galloping painfully. Like it was determined to break through the confines of her ribs and run for it.
“Amy, look at me ,” his repeated firmly.
It worked. Her eyes found his and stopped. He looked so calm. So in control.
“Breathe,” he commanded, his voice and gaze grounding her. She clung to his eyes as he took a deep, exaggerated inhale and she matched it, pulling in her first full breath since the panic set in. She didn’t look away. His hand moved from her elbow to brush a lock of hair behind her ear as he instructed, “Again,” taking the deep breath with her.
She did his bidding without conscious thought. Finally, her heart started to slow its rhythm.
“That’s it, my dear” his low words were soft and soothing as she focused on breathing and calming her heartbeat. “You are alright. Everything is alright. Just breathe.”
She felt her eyes fill with cursed tears, and a fresh wave of anger washed away the last of her panic. She blinked rapidly to force the tears away and stepped out of Gideon’s hold. She refused to acknowledge the loss she felt from doing so, but her vision clouded again with the evidence. Not fast enough to block out the similar agony flashing across Gideon’s features.
She crouched down, picking up the beautiful gown and laying it carefully on the couch before she turned on Thomas.
“What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded, her voice breaking with emotion.
“There’s no meaning to it,” Thomas looked apologetic. “Gideon is my closest friend. I want him to stand with me on my wedding day.”
Amelia had no words. She stared at Thomas and wanted to scream. She wanted to scream and rage right in his face. But she couldn’t. So, she gathered up the dress, reminding herself to be gentle when her movements came out aggressive. Without a word and with the dress tucked safely in her arms, she rushed to the door.
Gideon didn’t speak, nor had he moved. He just watched, but Amelia refused to look at him again.
Leave.
She had to leave. Right this second.
“Where are you going?” Thomas asked, his arrogant ass voice edged with concern that was too late.
She could have hit him.
“Let her go, Thomas,” Lydia spoke, her voice quiet with support and understanding.
“But —,” Amelia heard Thomas start as she walked into the hall.
“No,” Lydia interrupted him firmly. “You made this decision without warning either of us. So, you’ll let her go until she’s ready.”
And then Amelia was out of earshot and didn’t know what came next. She went straight to her room, depositing the dress gently on her bed before sitting down next to it.
Leave.
And she fell completely apart.