Page 63 of The Duchess’ Second Chance

“Are you all right?” His brow furrowed. “I’ve upset you.”

“You haven’t,” she lied. “I have to…I’m tired. I just need some time.”

“Take the night to think about it,” he said. “You can tell me in a few days what decision you’ve come to.”

He was still watching her with concern. But that concern meant nothing.

Amanda turned and ran back to her room, her stomach in knots, her eyes prickling with inexplicable tears.

CHAPTER 31

Ican’t believe I asked her for an annulment. Is that what I really want?

Sampson had spent the whole morning locked away in his study. There had been several knocks, but he hadn’t answered any of them. He had no idea if they had been the staff, searching for him, or if Amanda had come looking, but he didn’t want to know. If he knew it was her, it would be that much more difficult to turn her away.

He couldn’t face her right now. Couldn’t bring himself to talk to her. It would be too difficult after everything that had happened.

That he had actually kissed her…what would George say to that? His comrade in arms, who had laid down his life to allow Sampson to go on living, and now here was Sampson kissing the man’s wife. Taking everything that should have belonged to George. By rights, George should be here, should be the one kissing Amanda, and Sampson ought to be the one who had died. There could be no forgiveness for these crimes.

But I do like her. Genuinely. I’m not trying to take anything from George. I’d never have asked George to give up his life for me. If there had been any time to make a decision, I would have told him emphatically not to do that. I had no control over his choice.

And should Amanda be alone for the rest of her life because she spent a few months married to a man who can’t come home to her? A man who never even had the chance to take her to bed? Does she have to give up her life just because he did?

He sighed and picked up the glass of scotch he had poured for himself, swirling the liquid slowly in his hands.

He didn’t know any of the answers to these questions.

All he knew was that he couldn’t face her.

He couldn’t face the inevitable questions she’d want to ask him, questions she had every right to ask. Why had he kissed her? What outcome was he hoping for? Did he want it to happen again? Was this the preamble to renegotiating things between the two of them, redefining the terms of their marriage?

He had no answers. If she asked, he wouldn’t know what to say. She would feel cheated, he would feel frustrated, and the conversation would get them nowhere.

If he stayed in his office, they wouldn’t have to have it.

And then there was the last conversation he’d had with her.

He had no idea how seriously she might have taken the things he’d said about annulment, nor did he know whether he wanted her to have taken them seriously.

Should he go and find her? Take it all back?

But what if it was what she wanted? He hadn’t gotten her response, and that was crucial. He still believed that making her the offer, giving her what she might want, was important. She should be the one to make the choice. Not him.

I can still provide for her and for the girl, as I told her. We could create firm boundaries between the two of us, and I could still give her a home…either here in the estate, or if she finds it more comfortable, in one of the nicer tenants’ houses. There are plenty of places she could live and never have to see me, and she would never have to worry about money again as long as she lived. That would be the best gift I could give her, I think.

Yes, an annulment would draw a clear line regarding what was appropriate between the two of them. There would be no more little slips, no more stolen kisses. If he was being remotely honest with himself about wanting to take care of her and nothing more, that was the clear way forward…and yet, he felt an ache in the pit of his stomach at the thought that she might come in here and tell him that she’d thought it over and accepted his terms.

Maybe that’s why I’m avoiding everyone today. In spite of asking the question, I just can’t bear the thought of getting the answer.

It was a terribly weak approach to things, and he knew it. It shamed him. So the next time there was a knock on the door, he steeled himself and then went over to answer it.

The relief that flooded him at the sight of Worthington was so intense that he had to grab the doorframe to steady himself. It was like a stay of execution seeing his butler instead of Amanda. “What is it, Worthington?” he asked.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but you’ve been in the study all day,” Worthington said. “The staff is growing concerned that something might be the matter, and I was the one chosen to come and find out. I hope you don’t mind. The cook says you haven’t taken any meals, and one of the footmen tried to bring you the morning’s notices from the tenants but apparently he couldn’t get in either.”

“Everything is perfectly fine,” Sampson said. “A man needs time to himself on occasion, Worthington. I can’t always be making myself available to my staff. Some days people will just have to wait until I’m ready to deal with non-urgent matters.” He hesitated, wondering. “Were any of the notices from the tenants matters of urgency?”

“Not urgency, no,” Sampson said. “But some of them haven’t had the chance yet to speak with you since you took on the position. They wonder about the procedure, I think. Whether they need to make appointments.”