Absolute Surrender (27 page)

“She loves me. She still needs me. Is that not perfectly obvious to you? This isn
’
t simply about
you,
” Ender retorted.

“Of course it isn’t, but she cannot
have
you! And she certainly cannot have
us!
” Charles yelled as he took Ender by the lapels. “Cry off or I shall call you out and be damned for it, because she will
never
forgive me. But I
’
ll not stand idly by and let you ruin the lot of us.” Charles shoved Ender away, and Ender stumbled as he smoothed his jacket.

Charles was finished. He turned and stormed toward the Greensborough ballroom while he attempted to calm his erratic pulse. There was only so much his pride could allow, and he
’
d quite obviously already allowed for too much. That was his doing, and something he would rectify immediately.

He smoothed his hair and pasted a smile over the look of discontent he knew he carried as he approached her parents to make his apologies.

“Everything, Louisa, everything. I
’
m not returning. I
’
ve had quite enough of London to last me a lifetime. Pack it all.”

Louisa
’
s jaw dropped in shock. She
’
d only just walked in the door, so Amelia was quite sure that finding her packing her things had not been expected. “Milady, I cannot see as how this is good. You should speak with His Grace. I
’
m sure he would understand.”

“Understand what? That I said Hugh’s name while he was having his way?” She paused and sat suddenly at the edge of the bed, feeling the tingle rush through her limbs, toward her belly. “I said Hugh’s name while in his arms, and I didn
’
t even know I
’
d done it. Oh, Louisa, I believe I
’
m lost. I thought I knew what love was, and then he touched me, and I realized I
’
d no idea. None at all.”

Louisa sat next to her, taking her hands. She hadn’t even removed her wrap. Smythe must have told Louisa that she was upset, and Louisa had come straight to her room instead of going to her room first. “Milady, please, he
’
ll understand.”

“No. I cannot spend my life breaking his heart. It
’
s better this way. I
’
m the only one who
’
s broken. I was always broken. It seems it
’
s to be my destiny.”

Louisa
’
s arms wrapped around her solidly, and Amelia let herself melt.

“Louisa, I do love him. I love them both. But the difference between them is night and day. I cannot have the one for the other, but I cannot dare to damage either. It
’
s best if I simply go. It
’
s best for everyone. I cannot imagine the pain I would have should either of them be injured by my choice.”

“Milady, you cannot give up. You cannot run away,” Louisa said.

“It
’
s done. Please help me finish with the cases. I
’
d like to be off as soon as possible.”

“Amelia!” The door swung wide, and Louisa released her and stood, then quickly scampered toward the wardrobe to busy herself.

“Mother,” Amelia said calmly as she stood.

“What are you about? The duke said you were not feeling well, then I come here to find the traveling carriage being loaded. Where are you off to?”

“Home. I
’
m leaving.”

“
Quitting London?
” she practically squealed.

“Yes. Please make my apologies. I shall not return.”

“But…but…but the duke said he would be by in the morning to check on you and finalize the arrangements.”

Amelia paused at that, that he would say such a thing after tonight. She could not be swayed, however. She needed to leave them be. “Please make my apologies.”

“Amelia!”

“Mother, enough. I
’
m old enough to make my own decisions.”

Her mother…what would come of her?

Hugh had promised that regardless the outcome of his suit…but she
’
d not hold him to that promise. “I
’
ll work if need be to support us once father has passed. Until then, we
’
ll be happy at Pembroke.”

Her mother stared as Amelia stood and turned, packing up her oils and powders, the glass clinking as she placed the bottles in a smaller case. Amelia heard the door shut behind her mother, then the wail as she carried off down the hallway. She shook her head as Louisa poked her head out of the wardrobe to look at her.

“Carry on, Louisa. Time is wasting.”

The next morning, they waited at the station as all the furniture and trunks were unloaded from the rear car of the train and strapped to the Pembroke carriage. Amelia turned to Louisa, who seemed more distant than usual. “Are you well?” she asked.

“Oh, I am, milady. I just wasn’t expecting to quit London so quickly this time.” She smiled at her.

“Oh, Louisa, I
’
m sorry, I…I should have considered you—”

“Oh, no, milady, that
’
s not your responsibility. The responsibility is mine. You
’
re mine, not the other way round. It’s true I
’
m a bit more sad this time, I just…well, it gets more and more difficult to say good-bye.”

Amelia nodded. “I understand that feeling. I wish I could help you with it. Can you tell me of him? Could he come work for us at Pembroke?” Amelia assumed he was of the working class, but by the shocked look on Louisa
’
s face, perhaps she shouldn
’
t have done so. “I apologize. I assumed—”

“No, milady, it
’
s all right.” Louisa was silent for a long moment as she seemed to consider the offer. Then she shook her head slowly. “There isn’t a position suitable. I appreciate your thoughts, but there really isn’t a position that would work in this matter.”

Amelia reached out and wrapped her arms around Louisa. “You could return. I would give you the very best references, as well as settle a fair amount on you for your service.”

Louisa turned and took her arms. “Absolutely not, my lady. I
’
ll not leave you. Not for all the money at Pembroke. I trust everything will work out as it should. For now, my place is with you. I hold no grudge against that, never you think it.”

Amelia smiled and hugged her, but she still wished there was aught she could do. With an estate as large as Pembroke-by-the-Sea, practically a city unto itself, there was nearly every position a man could want. She couldn’t see why Louisa couldn’t manage to bring hers here.

“Know that should you change your mind, Louisa, the offer stands. Both for you to quit my father’s employ, or for your gentleman to take a position with our household. You just need say the word.”

“What do you mean, she
’
s gone?
” Hugh attempted to control the panic that welled in his belly.

“She departed last eve after she returned from the ball.”

“Damn it all,” Hugh said, then turned to see the blush across her mother
’
s face. “Begging your pardon.”

“Endsleigh.” The Duke of Pembroke took his attention. “She requested we make her apologies, and I must follow her wishes. I
’
m most disappointed, but I don
’
t believe my daughter is thinking clearly. I blame myself. You were the only other child within a decent distance who was of acceptable breeding
besides Castleberry
. Perhaps I should have allowed her friendship with the kitchen girls instead, but I simply didn
’
t believe that to be
appropriate
. I was terribly misguided in her friendship with you, and that friendship may have ruined her chances at a decent match.”

So Hugh would be blamed. Amelia must have said something. How would they even have known he was at fault in this? What had he done? He should have known to leave well enough alone, he should have let them be, he should have refused Jackson…

Jackson
.

“Does Castleberry know yet?” Hugh asked.

“He does not, though he
’
s expected in two hours’ time, and it falls to me to break what agreement there was. I know not what will come of my…daughter,” her father said, his voice wrought with anger.

“I came to tell her. I came to apologize. Now I see I
’
ve gone too far.”

“
Now
you see?” The duke stood, and Hugh backed up a pace at the shock of it. “Endsleigh, if it were not for my friendship with the former baron, I would ruin you.”

“Your Grace, I believe there
’
s already a queue,” Hugh said quietly before bowing and leaving. He had to get to Jackson.

Amelia hung the laundry on the moors at the Cliff House. She enjoyed the pure solitude of the act of doing the laundry for the Cliff House, hanging it in the breeze, sitting amongst the bed linens and spare clothing, and reading her favorite novels, out here at what seemed to her the edge of the world. It was a methodical peace not requiring much thought. Bringing the linens out, bringing the tub out, heating water from the well over the fire, hauling kettle after kettle to the wash tub, carefully scrubbing the linens, hanging them to dry.

Her mind was clear, it was calm, it was her own.

Amelia clipped one last chemise to the lines, removed the washing apron that helped to keep her work dress dry, then lay on the rug amidst the linen, the sun and the breeze flowing through the thin white fabrics, casting light and shadow across her small world.

She reached into the basket she’d brought, full with fruits, cheeses, wine, and books. The perfect basket, should you ask her. From it, she pulled the books, shuffled through them, and settled with one.

Amelia peered through the linens to ensure none of the servants were approaching her solitude, which they shouldn
’
t have been. They left her alone out here until they were required to return. But because of the book, she was nervous. She took up
Fanny Hill.

It hadn
’
t been much of a chore to obtain once she mentioned it to Louisa, but after she’d heard Hugh joking about it, she’d determined to read it, and Louisa had made it happen. There must be something more she didn’t know about sex, as Hugh had said. Perhaps it was merely fear. Perhaps if she understood.

Perhaps…

She opened the tome to a random place and began to read.

“I had it now, I felt it now, and, beginning to drive, he soon gave nature such a powerful summons down to her favourite quarters, that she could no longer refuse repairing thither; all my animal spirits then rushed mechanically to that center of attraction, and presently, inly warmed, and stirred as I was beyond bearing, I lost all restraint
…
”

I lost all restraint.

This alone disturbed her. For losing all restraint, in her mind, meant losing herself. Which is exactly what she feared most, exactly what she
’
d felt happening in the gardens with Charles.

As well, it was exactly what Hugh referred to, had he not?

Would that she could do this, this losing restraint, without also losing herself. She flipped through the well-worn novel to another section, for it wasn’t difficult in this book to find the scenes that would explain what it was she wanted to know.

“I saw, with wonder and surprise, what? not the play thing of a boy, not the weapon of a man, but a Maypole, of so enormous a standard, that had proportions been observ
e
d, it must have belong
e
d to a young giant…”

Her eyes widened in such a manner she was surprised they stayed in her skull.

“…then the broad of blueish-casted incarnate of the head, and blue serpentines of its veins, altogether compos
e
d the most striking assemblage of figure and colours in nature. In short, it stood an object of terror and delight.”

Terror.

Terror?

Amelia closed the book, then was immediately regretful, as she hadn’t marked the place. Hugh had said nothing of the terror. In fact, when he
’
d explained the act in relation to the animals, he
’
d been quite specific that a man’s…
equipage
was nothing like that of the beasts’. That didn’t quite seem so now.

She had detected the steeled length of Charles through both of their trappings. His…
appendage hadn
’t terrorized her at the time. But now—upon a bit of consideration—perhaps it should have. It was certainly no small thing, and she
’
d explored her own self, and when compared to the size of him… She scanned the pages, attempting to find the section where she
’
d left off.

“But what was yet more surprising, the owner of this natural curiosity, through the want of occasions in the strictness of his home breeding, and the little time he had been in town not having afforded him one; was hitherto an absolute stranger, in practice at least, to the use of all that manhood he was so nobly stock
e
d with; and it now fell to my lot to stand his first trial of it, if I could resolve to run the risks of its disproportion to that tender part of me, which such an oversiz
e
d machine was very fit to lay in ruins.”

Lay in ruins.

That tender part of me.

Well,
now,
here’s the terror.

Her heart stomped a beat against her ribs. Her maidenhead would certainly lay in ruins, though previously she
’
d thought that only figuratively. And now she truly
was
terrified. She
’
d meant to educate herself, possibly calm herself on the consideration of intimacy. After Hugh had suggested that she might merely be frightened. Yet now…

What now? She was quite a bit more frightened than she had been. The book had termed the penis a maypole. She held up her own hand and made a circle with her fingers. They could not circle a maypole. She held up both hands, and the blood slipped from her head. She wouldn’t have used such a term with Charles, certainly, but remembered having thought his to be similar to a steel pipe. Of course, now the simple mechanics…yet Fanny was a practiced woman, so very unlike herself. Amelia was untried and—

“Well, now, what have we here?”

Amelia looked over her shoulder to find Hugh staring down at her between two of her chemises and knew she paled in the dizziness that overtook her.

Oh no…nonono…

She stood suddenly, the book falling to the rug amongst her things, the world in a bit of a spin.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Hugh. Her voice shook. She hated that.

“I came to see you. Your father informed me you quit London, and I feared that your leaving had much to do with me. With us.”

Us? Which us does he refer to? Hugh and I us? Or Hugh and Charles us? Or Hugh and Charles and I
… “Well, you always have been able to get to the crux of a matter,” she said stiffly.

“Amelia, please, I beg you. I came to attempt to right things. Between you and—”

“Charles. Yes. Charles.” She shook her head. Between her and Charles. Where, then, did the
us
come into it? She turned away from Hugh.

“Do you love him?” Hugh asked.

The words were quiet, so quiet as to be painful to her. She took the entire weight of that question into her bones. It weighed on her so heavily, she couldn
’
t effort to vocalize a response; her lips refused her service. She knew what this would mean. She didn
’
t think Hugh would hear her…to know, to know that she loved him as well, as she always had…as she always would. Amelia had to at least honor Hugh by facing him, and so she did. Then her head managed a nod so stiff, it was a mere twitch.

Hugh looked down, and the world shifted beneath her feet. “Hugh,” she said.

Hugh shook his head but didn
’
t look back up to her yet. “I know you do. I know,” he said quietly. This took her by surprise, and he caught her gaze.

“Why did you ask? If you know…how did you—”

“I know you, Amelia. Do you think I wouldn
’
t see what was between the two of you? Don
’
t you think I know you well enough by now?”

“True, and how would he react to find us here together? Had you thought on that?” she asked quietly.

“He had, which is why he brought me with him,”
Charles said.

Her skirts whipped about her as she turned so suddenly toward Charles’s voice, she nearly lost her footing. Then there were hands, all those warm hands, holding her up. She pulled back from them, stumbled, and fell arse over teakettle into her wet laundry tub, water splaying everywhere. It shocked her to her work boots, and her mind stilled completely.

Then she laughed.

It was loud. It was hearty. It was unladylike. It filled the meadow, and it was incredible. Then she heard the bass undertones of her accompaniment, and the hands returned, carefully attempting to help her from the tub.

Amelia wiggled her way upright, her eyes on Hugh, laughter still staining her world. She was soaked throughout the middle, and the water coursed toward her feet, saturating her skirts. She took Hugh
’
s lapels, careless of the wet of her hands, and a pair of hands wrapped about her waist. She looked down and saw Hugh
’
s hands, heavy at his sides, and knew then that Charles truly was here with her as well.

Amelia closed her eyes on the remembrance of that heady laughter, the swinging freedom of her happiness, then leaned back until she met the solid wall of Charles’s body behind her.

A beat passed. Then another. She refused to move. She tilted her head back and up until she could fill her lungs with his scent.

Maypole.

Amelia
’
s eyes snapped open and were met with Charles’s
scruffy chin. She
’
d never seen him without a perfect shave, and she wanted to touch, to graze her palm across his chin and feel the burn of his stiff whiskers.

The weapon of a man…

She pushed her hips into him. There was no maypole here, but rising beneath the fabric of her skirts and his trousers was certainly something that may rend her, leave her in ruins, possibly in more ways than one. Her hands tightened on Hugh’s lapels. It was all she could do simply to breathe. So she concentrated the whole of herself on that simple act, until the filling of her chest, the expansion, began to chafe at her nipples, which had once again perked within the confines of her corset.

Her breath became more ragged, and she concentrated still, the sharp pull from her nipples traveling deep within her, down to some secret, untouched place, not just in her body, but her soul. She closed her eyes, for she did not want to look on only one of these men when she spoke next.

“What are you doing here? What are you
both
doing here?” she asked.

“We came to help you, Amelia,” Hugh said.

Charles hadn
’
t said another word, but she saw his throat work as he swallowed. She wished she could see what was in his eyes, but from this angle it was impossible. She didn
’
t want to move, for while she started to feel her world spin with Charles’s proximity to her, she wanted to ride the sensation for as long as she could before she was lost. She wanted to test Hugh
’
s theory. Perhaps she could build up a tolerance to him. She closed her eyes. Him with the episodes and damage, and her with the walls and tolerance. This wasn
’
t going well.

“Amelia.” She looked at Hugh when he spoke. “We
’
re here to help you. You wish to marry Charles, to be his wife and his duchess, to carry his name and title, to be responsible for his household…his nursery.” Hugh paused, and her mind churned through the words.

Wife.

Duchess.

Nursery.

“We
’
re here to see to that.” This, this deep gruff voice, belonged to Charles, and she felt it reverberate against her back as much as she heard it against her shoulder. “Whatever it takes.”

She caught Hugh
’
s gaze as he was in front of her, then his gaze drifted past her, and she knew he and Charles were silently considering the moment.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“Amelia, Charles and I are going to show you what passion is. We
’
re going to bring you to a crisis. We
’
re going to drive you beyond every emotion you
’
ve ever had, to bring this part of you forth that you
’
re so very afraid of. We
’
re going to do this here, in the safety of the Cliff House, because this
is
where you feel safest. I
’
m going to be with you the whole time, because—” Hugh swept a hand down her chin. “I know…I know, Amelia.”