Page 26 of The Rules of Matrimony (The Matchmaking Mamas #4)
A commotion sounded from somewhere in the house. What was that noise? Had Tiny escaped the kitchen? Amie could well imagine his chewing on Lord Kellen’s boot and the outrage that would follow. Edna stuck another pin in her hair, but Amie was already twisting to look at the door, as if she could see beyond it.
“Just finished, miss,” Edna said.
“Thank you.” Amie did not even check her appearance in the mirror before hurrying from her bedchamber to investigate. The noise increased in the corridor, and she could distinguish it now as voices—yelling voices.
No doubt Ian and Lord Kellen. She had never heard Ian yell before. He could be stern, but there was a collected manner about him that seemed to come from someone who valued self-control. She wondered what had happened to provoke him so.
Should she hide in her room until their tempers had cooled? She looked to the stairs and back to her room. Kneading her hands together, she finally proceeded forward. If there was anything she could do to help, she had to try. At the bottom of the stairs, the sound of her own name jarred her to a stop.
She swallowed, her heart pounding, then drew closer and closer to the closed drawing room door until each word was clear and accented with sharpness.
“If you wanted influence for your idealist projects, you shouldn’t have married so far beneath you.”
Shame coursed through her. Ian had been right. Their wedding had done nothing to change Lord Kellen’s opinion of her. In truth, she could not blame the man. She herself had thought Miss Foster a far more complementary fit for Ian.
“I never asked for your help,” Ian growled. “And I would thank you to keep my wife out of this.”
“You might not ask for it,” Lord Kellen said, “but you need it. I know you fancy yourself capable of changing our centuries’ old criminal law, but you cannot conceive of doing it without my backing and that of my associates.”
Ian laughed, but it was an angry sound that worried Amie. “Don’t flatter yourself, Father. Just because you have been spying on me doesn’t give you a right to involve yourself. I have connections of my own, so you need not concern yourself.”
“Why do you have to be so dashed prideful? For years, you have been disrespectful and sour, and I know you did this to spite me. You can still annul the marriage,” Lord Kellen said. “We could work together.”
Ian huffed. “How can you invite yourself here, on my wedding trip no less, and say that to me?”
“Darling, really,” Lady Kellen pleaded. “Lower your voice, I beg you.”
“You have made excuses for him for long enough,” Lord Kellen snapped, making Amie jump. “This is between your son and me.”
“Then, say your piece and be done,” Ian commanded.
“Very well. I came here to persuade you to see reason, because I know you, and I know the truth. This marriage is a farce. It was a scapegoat to avoid marrying Miss Foster, and we both know it.” Lord Kellen paused, and Amie leaned closer to the door. “I—I will consider a different arrangement.”
Ian’s response was low but still laced with anger. “It was never your choice to begin with. I have made my choice and will stand by it.”
Amie shivered at the words. They were powerfully spoken ... but would he live to regret them?
“You’re a stubborn fool.” Lord Kellen’s voice pitched. “How can you throw your future away on some useless, pathetic, penniless woman?”
Amie lurched back, her every weakness suddenly stripped and laid bare. Moments ago, her heart had soared as Ian had held her, caressed her with his gaze, and smiled down at her. Her emotional pendulum now swung in reverse, and all she could see was how worthless she was. She did not deserve this title, this home, this security. She did not deserve Ian.
She had never felt so small.
Ian’s voice followed a moment later. “That useless woman is my wife and deserves your respect.”
His words came without comfort. She did not believe him. She tasted the tears on her tongue before she even knew she was crying. Her feet, however, would not move though she longed to run, and run far.
“Ha!” Lord Kellen’s laugh was devilishly high. “When I see a grandchild, I will give her the respect she has earned .”
Amie cast her watery eyes to the ceiling. That would never happen. She would forever be an outcast—less wife and more charity case—while acting a dual role as an anvil holding down Ian’s career. She wasn’t supposed to care—it wasn’t part of their arrangement—but the sensation of worthlessness nearly overcame her. It wasn’t a new sensation, as she had been cast from relatives’ homes too many times to pretend otherwise, but this somehow hit deeper.
“I think you should leave,” Ian said, his voice ringing with finality. “I don’t want to see you ever again.”
The words stunned Amie, if possible, more than any of the disparaging comments against her. Ian couldn’t mean it. She was nothing to him. His father was his family!
The door swung open before she could move. Lord Kellen, with his austere expression and hard eyes, took in her tear-stained glory and did not have to say anything; she could feel his loathing. He brushed by her and strode to the door.
Lady Kellen hurried after him but stopped as soon as she saw Amie. “Oh, dearest. Please tell me you did not hear any of this.” Her gaze was frantic and concerned. The perfectly collected countess Amie had come to know was completely unraveled.
Amie opened her mouth to say something, but the words she had overheard were compounding inside her with such force that she could not think to deny hearing them.
Lady Kellen took her hand. “My husband can be a difficult man to understand, but he acts out of love for his son. We must go, but I will write to you.” Her hurried words, though sincere, flitted just above Amie’s head but did not sink in. “Goodbye for now,” Lady Kellen added, squeezing Amie’s hand and dropping it.
Amie stood there for several minutes, torn between a sense of duty as hostess to see that Lord and Lady Kellen had everything they needed for their trip home, a fear to approach Lord Kellen at all, and a yearning to speak with Ian. There was so much that had to be said and no courage to go with any of it.
In the end, she could bring herself to do nothing. She made her way to the servants’ entrance and sneaked outside, breathing deeply the liberating air.
She suddenly wished she had never come here.