Page 82 of The Duke of Fire
“Like who? Like my mother?” Amelia asked, even though she knew the answer all along. Finch had always hated her mother, and she could do nothing to change that.
“Yes,” he snapped. “Using your body to buy your future. Thinking you are smarter than everyone else. You are not clever, Amelia. You are pathetic.”
Maybe he was right.
Shehadused her body. She had gone to the Duke of Firaine with a bargain—a desperate one. And she had let herself fall in love when she should have kept her heart guarded. She should feel ashamed. But she also knew the truth. She had no other way out. And she had loved him.
If that made her pathetic, so be it.
“Is that what you think?” she asked quietly. “That I have become a harlot because I stopped bowing to you?”
He said nothing.
“Is that what you think?” she asked, matching his derision. Finch had always been a spineless man who did not know how to make his own decisions. He did not even know how to handle money. Yes, she was standing her ground against him. It was about time. “Do not talk about things you will never understand,” she continued. “Do not talk aboutloveorsacrifice. You have never done either.”
“Oh, I understand enough, Amelia. Your mother tainted our family’s reputation. Now, you are becoming just like her. Your duke may have money and power, but he cannot keep you safe forever. He will find another plaything, and by then, he could not care less if your name gets dragged in the mud. You will be alone and ruined, remember that.”
Amelia shook with fury but forced her breath to slow. “I have been ruined for years, Finch. You just did not see it. Or maybe you did and did not care.” Then, more quietly, “Do not worry. You will never have to see me again.”
Amelia was trembling with anger, but she took short gasps of breath before she looked back at the half-brother she wished had loved her even a little. The moments he pretended to be kind to her were some of her most precious memories.
Finch scoffed. “Go on then. Run away. Lie to yourself. It is easier than facing what you are.”
“I believe you have better things to worry about than me. Why do you not worry about your own wife instead?”
“My wife? What about her?”
“I was not going to say this, but you deserve to know. Octavia has been corresponding with another man. Her lover, I assume,” Amelia said, the words choking her.
“What?” Finch choked.
Amelia did not relish the pain in his eyes. But he needed toknow. “That child she is carrying… it is not yours.”
“You are a lying harlot!” Finch accused, even as the color drained from his face. “You always hated Octavia. And now you come up with lies like that?”
Amelia had had enough. He would not make her feel small anymore, but he also needed to know the truth.
“It is the truth, Finch. Open your eyes! I found the letters. They were not vague or innocent. They were about the things shelikeshim to do to her.”
Someone gasped in the corridor. Behind Finch stood Octavia. She pulled her dressing gown tightly around her. Her face had gone terribly pale.
“You are jealous,” Octavia said hoarsely. “You have always hated me because I am the lady of Warton House, not you. You have gone insane! Why are you making up lies to drive us apart?”
“You are right,” Amelia said. “You never gave me a chance to like you. You never treated me like a sister. But this is not about jealousy. It is about truth.”
“She is lying, my love,” Finch insisted, pulling Octavia protectively against him. “I do not believe a word she said.”
“You have never loved my brother, Octavia. You only married him because you can manipulate him, and because of his money. You say you love him, but would you still stay with him, even if he were penniless?” Amelia asked coolly.
Octavia gaped at her. It was such an unexpected reaction. It was quick and over for about a second, but it was enough for Finch to see. Horror dawned in his eyes.
Amelia lifted her chin and picked up her trunk, edging toward the door. “Octavia, I have read the letters, and your face tells a story on its own. As much as my brother does not like me, stop pretending to care for him. Finch, I am not to blame for your misery. You were the heir. Father left everything to you, and you gambled it all away. If I make my own mistakes, then they will be my own misery. Not yours. I will not be blaming you.”
“Wait!” Finch begged.
“No, Finch. Not anymore,” she said, her voice cracking. “I was trapped in this house where I thought I would be considered as family, only to endure your cruelty. I cannot stay any longer. And you said it yourself, I will be ruined if I stay here.”
With her head held high and keeping her tears back, Amelia swept past her torturers. She went down the stairs steadily and breathed in the crisp morning air.
