Hugh stared at her for a long moment before saying, “His debts obliged her to wed.”
A weight settled in the pit of Amelia’s stomach. Sometimes she raged at Hugh’s coddling—she was eighteen and more than capable of navigating the world without a nanny—but at least he cared.
“Did you pay him off?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He sighed, looking more tired than she could recall in recent months. “Once I explained my need for a wife and my expectations for that role, she agreed with some terms of her own. We negotiated a marriage contract, and the wedding took place. It was not a romantic endeavor, but I assure you, I hardly stole her from her loving father’s arms.”
“I never suspectedthatof you,” Amelia said scornfully, but her mind was still working. This Christiana came from tragic circumstances, which was sure to spur Hugh’s sympathy. And her eyes had been a rather glorious shade of gray that appeared almost ethereal. There was potential for beauty there, in her own fashion. With the right approach, there was still a chance forHugh to fall in love with her. “But why marry her at all? You never seemed inclined to take a wife before now.”
Hugh sighed. “Because I required someone to escort you to London in my stead, and the option of a duchess was far preferable to another lady I hired for the purpose. She will act as your chaperone, and once you are married, she and I will live largely separate lives.”
Largelyseparatelives? Amelia gaped at her brother. Once she married, she had wanted him to find someone with whom to spend his days, not to send that person away again.
“There’s no need to look at me like that,” he said. “Not everyone is a romantic.”
“There is not being a romantic, and there issucha marriage.” Amelia rubbed at her eyes. The problem of what to do with Hugh had been plaguing her for some time, and now it seemed all the more urgent. If he was going to be happy in any respect, hemustfall in love with his wife.
She sank into the green armchair before his study desk. “You needn’t have done this for my sake, Hugh,” she said. “We both know I will find an eminently eligible husband with or without your interference.”
“Do we,” he said dryly.
“Of course. I’m the sister of a dukeand, if I do say so myself, rather pretty.”
“With an impudent tongue that would chase any well-meaning gentleman far, far away.”
“Nonsense.” Amelia smiled, knowing her dimples were showing in her cheeks. “He will be utterly charmed, and we both know it.”
“I pity the poor fellow.”
Amelia sighed and redirected the conversation back along its proper lines. “I do wish you had chosen your bride out of at least alittleaffection.”
“Affection is not a luxury we all get to enjoy,” he said, a glint in his eye telling her that this conversation was over.
Well, perhaps it was for now, but Amelia had no intention of letting the subject lie.
She smiled sweetly. “By the end of all this, I will love her like a sister. And you, Hugh, will come to love her, too.”
“Then I hope your romantic heart is amenable to disappointment,” he said, “because I sincerely doubt I will ever be capable of such a thing.”
He said so now. But Amelia would contrive to make it happen, even if it killed her.
Chapter Ten
Christiana stretched, finallyalone in her enormous bedchambers. Compared to her small room in her father’s house, this was positively monstrous—and more elegant than she could ever have imagined. Not only did she have a huge four-poster bed, the silk hangings exceedingly fine, but she also had a writing desk, a beautiful winged armchair by the fire, and a window seat looking out across the gardens. There was also a dressing table with the finest mirror Christiana had ever seen.
And, separate from that, was a private sitting roomanda dressing room that adjoined the duke’s suite.
She was a duchess.
That fact hadn’t fully sunk in until dinner, when no fewer than two footmen and the butler had served them dinner. Even the morning room, in which they ate as a family, had been grander than her father’s dining room.
This house, and everything in it, was now her domain.
She needed time to acclimatize herself to her new role. Time to acquire gowns that fit her station. According to the mirror, she more resembled a governess than a duchess. Her hair frizzed helplessly around her head, and her glasses perched sternly on her nose. Although her gown had once belonged to her socialitemother, it was hopelessly out of fashion and contrived to look dowdy on her—truly an impressive feat.
Slowly, she sank onto the enormous bed, feeling as though the world were tumbling out of control around her. Marrying Hugh hadn’t been the wrong decision—she had made the best of a bad lot—but none of this felt as though it could be real.
Over dinner, he had agreed to take her riding and show her the estate. She could even have one of his geldings—if she could ride it safely. The thought made her want to break into hysterical laughter.