The butler answered a moment later, his eyebrows rising in sharp surprise as he looked upon her. “My Lady… I was not aware that you were expected today.”
“I am not, but I need to see my father and brother,” she replied, holding herself as confidently as she could. “Might you fetch them to the drawing room?”
The butler grimaced, as if that was the very last thing he wanted to do. “Of course, My Lady. May I bring you anything while you wait?”
“No, thank you.” She smiled, realizing with some irony that she was probably not the only one who hated this townhouse.
She stepped into the house and was immediately struck by the familiar scents and sounds, so different to Westyork and Lionel’s townhouse. There was nothing welcoming about her father’s London residence. It was cold and stark, the air perpetually strained with an invisible tension.
Shaking off her unease as best she could, she headed for the drawing room where her marriage to Lionel had been confirmed, and sat down in the same spot where she had first heard that she was to be married to him without delay.
I was so relieved…
She did not have to wait long for her father and brother to come striding into the room, wearing less-than-pleased expressions as they saw her. It was evident that they had assumed they would never see her again, particularly Martin. After all, Lionel had sent her brother away from Westyork with his tail between his legs.
“If you have come for that apology, you still will not receive it,” Martin said snidely, folding his arms across his chest.
Dread gripped Amelia’s heart in a tight fist as she gathered her courage to say what had to be said. “Actually,Ihave come to apologize. I have come to apologize for the trouble that is about to descend on you both, because of me.”
“What are you twittering about?” her father, Francis, asked tersely, his face a sneer.
Amelia gulped. “Unfortunately, I will soon be divorced. As you are undoubtedly aware, society does not look too kindly upon divorce, so?—”
“I beg your pardon?” Martin scoffed, the glint in his narrowed eyes somewhere between twisted delight and abject disgust.
Amelia took a breath. “I am to be divorced. I cannot speak any more plainly.”
“Out of the question,” Francis snarled, his face turning an alarming shade of puce. “I would rather see you dead before I saw you divorced.”
Martin stepped forward. “Iknewthat wretched beast could not be trusted. I knew he would bring disgrace upon our household.” He shook his head vehemently. “I shall find the man at once and challenge him to a duel. He cannot be permitted to get away with this insult. Father, we should ride there immediately. This cannot wait a moment longer.”
“There is no use in that,” Amelia shouted to get her voice above Martin’s. “He is not at fault here.Iwas the one who asked for the divorce, and he is being gracious enough to fulfill that request.”
At least, she hoped he was. He had not disagreed, not exactly, and she had a feeling that hewouldabide by her wishes, simply because she had asked. Of course, she was aware that annulments and divorces were not easy to come by, but as there had been no consummation or anything of that ilk, she hoped it would be a simpler process.
Her brother and father stared at her as if she had grown two extra heads, both of them the very reflection of each other. They scowled the same, their mouths twisted in the same way, and the revulsion in their eyes was identical.
“You didwhat?” Francis seethed, now so red he had veered into the palette of purple.
Amelia clasped her hands together. “I requested a divorce. I deceived him, I felt guilty, so I asked for him to divorce me, so that he might have his life back.”
The slap came out of nowhere, stinging across her cheek like a nest of wasps had attacked her at once. Her brain rattled in her skull, her eyes dazed for a moment, before they began to well with tears. Not tears of any emotion, just tears of shock and smarting pain.
She blinked up at her brother as he grabbed hold of her wrist and drew his hand back, preparing to slap her again.
When the second swing came, she was prepared for it, ducking underneath his hand and sending him off balance. As he staggered, she shot to her feet, shoving him hard in the side. Martin fell forward, his hands slamming into the settee to break his fall, while Francis turned the color of blackberry juice.
“I came as a courtesy,” she snapped, holding her hand to her sore cheek. “I came to warn you of what you can expect, because you are still my family, even if I wish that you were not. But until my divorce is confirmed, you will remember that I am a Countess, and deserve due respect.”
Martin lurched back to his feet, his eyes ablaze with rage. “You are nothing of the sort and deserve nothing of the sort. You are nothing but a wastrel, and once society gets wind of this, you will be the pariah you have always wanted to be.”
“Then, it is fortunate that I will not here to endure that,” Amelia replied, surprised by the strength in her voice. “I have money enough to make arrangements to go to Aunt Florence in the Americas, and that is where I mean to stay—where I might actually be welcome.”
Francis huffed and puffed. “No daughter of mine will go to the Americas! You will remain married to the Earl. You willnotdisgrace this family any more than you have already done, so I suggest you tend to that redness on your cheek, then we shall return you to Westyork at once.”
“No, no daughter of yourswillgo to the Americas,” Amelia replied defiantly. “But this daughter of my mother’s will. You have no control over me anymore, Father, and you cannot make me change my mind. And though I wish you would say one kind thing and offer me good fortune in my venture, I know better than to expect it. I will find happiness among my mother’s family, and I shall forget I ever had to endure your cruelty.”
Martin moved as if to hit her again, but she stepped back and put her hands up in a gesture of defense, glaring at him with the anger of all the years she had suppressed her fury and hurt.
