The Contract Duchess, a Regency Romance: Key To My Heart Book 1

Chapter 32 - Epilogue - Robert

Robert smiled at the group in the drawing room. His sister Angela, now the Duchess of Chesterton, rested on her favorite lounge, one hand absently stroking a black key that hung from a long cord around her neck. Her husband sat alongside her, sitting so close to her that her skirt-covered knee pressed against his hip. The public intimacy was scandalous, even for a married couple, but no one here would say a word; their friends were not strangers to such displays. Weekly tea with Angie's friends had become a welcome routine over the past few months that even the men enjoyed. Robert could not remember any other time when the drawing room had seen such regular enjoyment.

Lily and her husband Christopher occupied a cream colored sofa near the open window. Her hand rested constantly on her ample belly, and his gaze never wandered far from her. She had suffered greatly with a sensitive stomach early in her pregnancy, and it had returned as her confinement neared its end. Fresh air and strong tea helped, but Robert could not tell who was more uncomfortable, Lily from the sickness, or Christopher from worry over his wife.

Derrick matched Christopher in his attentions to his own wife. He and Angie had just announced today that they were expecting themselves. They had kept the news secret for over a month, wanting to enjoy their secret a while, so their news of a Christmas baby was even more exciting. While Angie appeared to be suffering fewer symptoms than Lily, Derrick's expression of wonder was often tainted with a tight jaw and wrinkled brow; he knew all too well how swiftly his wife's strength could drain away, even without the strain of growing a babe. Robert was worried, also, but he knew Derrick was as sensitive to Angie's condition as Theo, and as protective as he himself. His sister lacked for nothing.

Heather and her husband Francis sat beside each other on matching armchairs. Their time together was always too short, as Frances just inherited his family's shipping company, and the business required a lot of personal attention. Yet, they made a point of coming for tea almost every week, and they always seemed to be in good spirits.

Robert's gaze lingered on the woman sitting beside Theo on the settee. Her black dress did not detract from her beauty, nor did the excessive pallor of her complexion. When Derrick had orchestrated the group's first tea, Amelia had been as vibrant as Lily and Heather, having married well, to a count, and for love, as well. Her husband had rarely joined their gathering, but he had never prevented his wife from attending, and she always spoke kindly of him.

Then two weeks ago, she had sent word that she would not be attending, as the count was desperately ill and she could not leave his side. A week ago, she again deferred, sending the news that her husband had succumbed to his illness, and she was busy making arrangements for his body. Two days ago, the group had attended the count's funeral to support Amelia, unable to speak with her privately due to the crowds, and now here she sat, silent and still.

At least she had returned, Robert thought. I missed her. The unbidden thought made him shift in his seat. What?

She said little, beyond apologizing for her late arrival. She had muttered something about her father being overly concerned about her traveling anywhere alone before settling on a lounge, the twin of Angela's favorite perch. She kept her gaze low, and her lashes glistened with moisture. Once finished with her tea, she set aside her cup and saucer and clasped her hands loosely in her lap, occasionally fingering the lace at the end of her sleeves that draped over the backs of her hands.

Though she did not complain about the warmth of the room or begin to fan herself, Robert was puzzled by her long sleeves. The other ladies wore gowns with short sleeves, for the heat of summer was everywhere. He himself had chosen to forgo a tailcoat and formal cravat as concessions to the weather. His unadorned collar and simple waistcoat were a mirror of the other men's attire; a gathering of friends made comfortable attire acceptable, thankfully.

Surely Amelia could acquire mourning attire that was more comfortable. The count's fortunes had been great, and after her husband's untimely death, control of them had passed to a guardian on behalf of the countess, her father, until such time as she remarried and the title was bestowed on her husband. Her father now had considerable means to fulfill his daughter's needs and should be doing so.

The longer Robert observed her, the more disturbed he became. Not only was her dress inappropriate for the weather, it hung from her frame like a sack, and the hem of the skirt was so short he could see the ankles of her black boots, even as she sat with her feet tucked under her chair. The plain black frock had a high neckline that gaped away from her skin, despite a shiny black ribbon tied about the fabric. The short veil pinned to her hair had a loose thread that dangled just above her shoulder, and there was a hole near the edge of the material where the thread originated.

So lost was he in his scrutiny, he failed to notice his subject's gaze lifting until her eyes met his own. In an instant, he saw her grief, her embarrassment, and her anger before she could hide them. Then her face became a calm mask, and she broke the eye contact, studying her hands once more. Her fingers tangled in the lace for a moment, and a glimmer of gold appeared for a trice before she smoothed the fabric back into place.

Robert had never known any woman to hide a piece of jewelry while wearing it. Not wear a piece of jewelry because she did not care for it, or because it represented a time she would rather not remember, certainly. But to conceal something so lavish as a gold cuff...

Robert had never been one to wallow in confusion, nor could he ignore it. He faced challenging problems in business quite often, and he had never abandoned a venture because the details did not make sense. He probed and investigated and poured over lists of possibilities until he untangled the truth and brought the matter to a successful conclusion. His persistence had worked well for him, making his family business even more profitable in the years since his father had died.

Now he felt the need to unravel the mystery of Amelia's situation. He knew the conundrum of her attire would disturb his sleep and keep him from concentrating on his work fully, until he knew everything. He pushed down the thought that it wasn't only her situation that fascinated him. After all, she was newly widowed, and such thoughts had no place in her life or his at the moment.

He glanced away from her and emptied his cup of tea in one gulp, drawing Theo's attention. His brother curled up one corner of his mouth in a teasing smirk before returning his attention to his conversation with Christopher about Napoleon's recent aggression. Robert shrugged and stared at the portrait of his parents that hung above the now cold fireplace.

He would discover the truth about Amelia's circumstances and do what he could to improve them. It was the least he could do for a friend. Perhaps he could even find her a new husband. Ignoring the sudden pang of distaste in his heart at the idea, he rose and excused himself from the room. He needed to make some inquiries, and Robert saw no reason to delay. Amelia required assistance, and he was just the man for the job.