Ambersley (Lords of London) (15 page)

She pursed her lips. “Reggie mentioned her diary, but I never saw it.”

“
Has it been destroyed?”

“
I don’t know. Awkward for you if it hasn’t. Perhaps awkward for Worthing as well?”

Derek regretted bringing St. John’s name into it. Still, if Rosalie had the diary, she would have put it to use long before now. He let the matter drop, though it plagued the edges of his mind like a tender bruise that refused to heal.

Despite the uncomfortable situation with his family, Derek drew solace from working on the estate. He marveled at each new experience the changing seasons of his first year introduced—frost gilding the ground to crunch beneath the coach wheels before the first dusting of snow, a new crop of bleating calves and lambs, the burst of flowers and birdsong as spring warmed the land and summer took hold. Through it all, he continued to lead repairs on the Hall as he could afford them, just as he continued to give silent thanks that Minton had yet to find any sign of Miss Amber.

Following a successful race meeting at Ascot in June, Derek opened the house in Grosvenor Square for two months and invited Rosalie and the children to London.

Rosalie arrived with alacrity and wasn’t the least distressed when Derek announced his intention of returning to Ambersley. Having sole reign in Grosvenor Square suited her purpose. She’d bided long enough, and she lost no time renewing acquaintances.

One of the first notes she sent was to the Marquess of Worthing. His punctual arrival the next day brought a smile to her lips as they seated themselves in the elegant drawing room.

“
I believe we may be able to assist each other,” she said without preamble.

He raised a brow at her. “How so?”

“
Derek tells me Alicia Vaughan’s diaries may be of interest to you.”

“
He said he doesn’t have them,” the marquess said in a bored tone.

“
He doesn’t. But what if I did? The information therein might be valuable to many.”

“
Not the least of all would be your son.”

“
This isn’t about my family. It’s about yours.” She watched wariness overtake his devilish eyes. Oh yes, Derek had been so good to feed her this little tidbit of gossip about Worthing’s father.

“
I see. And what sort of price did you have in mind for such valuable information?”

Triumph nearly in her grasp, she maintained her demur tone. “We both know my son Curtis is the real duke. There’s a sizeable fortune that will settle on the dukedom in a few years, and then all my needs will be met. But in the meantime, I could use a little something to tide me over.” She need not be greedy. Worthing came from one of the wealthiest families—a family that avoided scandal at all costs.

The marquess rose stiffly. “You’ll excuse me, but I have no taste for your enterprise.” He looked down his aquiline nose at her to add, “Perhaps you may find someone hungrier than I.”

“
But you don’t understand—”

“
Believe me, I grasp all the particulars. My sole interest in the diary is to protect my family from the stigma of my father siring a bastard. By offering to sell it to me, you’ve told me the diary contains no clear evidence of Derek’s paternity.” His eyes narrowed. “That, or you do not even have the diary in your possession.”

“
How—?”

“
Because if you did, you would hardly be blackmailing me to keep it hidden.” He retrieved his hat from the table by the door. “Go ahead. Publish it.”

Disliking the challenge in his tone, she rose. “I may do so.”

He gave an irritating chuckle, as if he found her bravado quite droll. “A word of caution. Don’t do so unless it contains irrefutable evidence. Derek has gained Prinny’s notice, and slandering him will do your children no good unless you can prove he must surrender his title.” He opened the door. “Good day, Lady Vaughan.”

Rosalie twined her fingers, unwilling to smash any of the porcelain decorations at hand. They were hers. All of this was hers, and one day, all of London would know it. She went to the window to watch Worthing ascend into his chaise. She hated him almost as much as she hated Derek.

Worthing had called her bluff, and now she would have to search for some new form of action. There had to be a way to get around Derek. Until she found it, she would have to wait. Fortunately, she had patience.

Yes, like a spider, she had patience.

~

While Rosalie and her children enjoyed the entertainments of London, Derek and Harry returned to Ambersley where they disrupted the staff with their unbridled laughter.

“
It looks better than it did,” Harry remarked during Derek’s tour.

“
I could have burned it to the ground and made it look better than it did,” Derek replied. “You’re supposed to be admiring the craftsmanship of the plastering and woodwork.”

“
Craftsmanship—is that what you call it?” A smile danced on Harry’s lips. “Were there, in fact, any craftsmen involved, or merely rank amateurs?”

“
Rank amateurs? I’ll have you know I’m a duke, young man. Step into the library, and we’ll discuss this matter at length.”

Harry laughed. “No, thank you. I stepped into your library once before, and fell at length.”

Derek looked over his shoulder as the butler passed. “Paget, are you
humming
?”

The butler’s stride faltered. “Certainly not, my lord,” he said gruffly.

Beckoned by summer sunshine, the cousins spent their days by the stream, pretending to fish and sleeping under the shade of the willows. Once Johnny discovered their retreat, the boy made it a habit to join them as soon as he’d finished his chores.

One idle afternoon, Harry watched Johnny wade into the water intent on a fat frog. Something about the boy tickled his memory, and when the sun cast a glint of silver in Johnny’s blue-green eyes, Harry swore beneath his breath.

Tossing his hat at his half-asleep cousin, he whispered loudly, “Have you ever noticed that Johnny looks exactly like the portrait of the late duke hanging in the library?”

Derek rolled on his side to blink at Johnny. His eyes narrowed. “You may be right.”

“
He must be the old boy’s bastard. Didn’t you tell me the late duke and his wife buried seven children in infancy? He must have found himself a sturdy yeoman’s daughter to bear him a child and then placed the child secretly with Tom and Martha.” Harry chewed on a blade of grass. “Do you suppose the rest of the servants know?”

With a yawn, Derek sat up. “The boy’s underfoot everywhere. If you recognized the resemblance, I’m sure others must have.”

Harry looked at his cousin shrewdly. “Will you acknowledge him?”

“
He’s a bit young to understand, I think.” Derek watched as Johnny tried to mimic the frog’s full-throated
ribbit.
“Still, it wouldn’t hurt to encourage him. The boy is filled with admirable qualities.”

“
And what would those be, pray?”

Derek thought them through. “Good sense, a positive nature, resourcefulness, a generous spirit, but most of all honesty.”

“
Sounds like a recipe for a good mistress, even a wife.”

Derek laughed darkly. “As if you could find half those traits in any woman.”

“
Oh, come now. They’re not all bad.”

“
Maybe it’s just my luck then, eh? Remember Helena?”

Harry let forth a crack of laughter. “Ha! Won’t she be sorry she turned you down when she learns of your inheritance. She’ll be eating her heart out over it, you may be sure. You were well out of that one.”

“
Indeed. ’Twas a hard lesson, but one well learned. Women are mercenaries who will lie to achieve their ends.”

“
In her case, decidedly,” Harry agreed. “But what of my mother? She has all those qualities you named.” Harry tossed aside his blade of grass. “In fact, I have most of those qualities, Derek. Why not marry me?”

His dark mood broken, Derek laughed. “Because you subvert all your good points by being vain and far too gregarious.”

“
Whatever do you mean?” Harry batted his eyes and pouted his lips in jest.

“
And you’re a fool,” Derek finished. “If I met a woman like you, I’d be forced to strangle her.”

Harry lay back in the warm grass with a sigh. “If I found a woman just like me, I’d have to marry her.”

From where she stood knee-deep in the stream, Johnny caught the second part of the men’s conversation.
Admirable qualities. Good sense, a positive nature, resourcefulness, a generous spirit, but most of all honesty.

But most of all honesty. But most of all honesty.

She blushed with shame, suddenly conscious of the lie she lived. She glanced at the duke. Should she tell him the truth? But then, he would send her away, for a girl couldn’t apprentice in the gardens, and a girl couldn’t play by the stream with him and Mr. Harry. Besides, he seemed to think all women were liars, and she hated to lose his regard. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she swore he would never learn the truth about her.

Autumn heralded the return of Lady Vaughan and Olivia from London, but Curtis remained away to attend Eton. Johnny was thankful he hadn’t returned to torment her. Curtis’s absence made it easier for Johnny and Olivia to see each other, especially since the duke found nothing wrong with their friendship. He encouraged Johnny’s efforts to befriend Miss Olivia, even going so far as to ask Miss Trent to include the boy in Olivia’s lessons. Johnny proved an apt pupil and even made Olivia pay more attention to her studies.

Tom marveled at her good fortune. “Reading is a gift, Johnny. You be sure to thank his lordship for this opportunity.” But Johnny had to wonder whether the duke would encourage her to take part in Olivia’s lessons if he knew she weren’t a boy.

~

Ambersley, July 1808

As the months tallied to a year and then another, the duke traveled far more, assuming his seat in Parliament, visiting Mr. Harry and his mother in Bath, or staying as the exalted guest of other members of the aristocracy. Johnny sniffed the roses blooming in the garden and wished the duke could be home to enjoy them. She bore his absences with patience but missed him tremendously. Her favorite person on the whole estate was the man who owned everything around her.

“
The duke’s returned,” Tom announced as he entered the cottage by the stream on a warm evening in July.

Johnny sat erect at the table, eager but frozen as a setter sighting game. “Please, may I go see him?”

Martha’s hands gravitated to her wide hips. “What about your supper?”

Johnny threw a pleading look to Tom.

“
Supper can wait an hour. Just this once.” Tom said. “But don’t be a nuisance to his lordship.”

Martha tossed up her hands in defeat. “Go child, if it’s so important.”

Johnny raced around the table to hug the aging woman’s fat waist. “It is. If all went well in London, he’ll declare a special holiday.”

Martha returned the tight hug with a chuckle. “What nonsense, declaring a special holiday. Whatever for?”

Halfway out the door, Johnny spun around. “Didn’t you know? His Grace went to London with Mr. Minton to declare Miss Amber dead. If they succeeded, he promised he’d hold a big memorial for Miss Amber and declare it a special holiday so everyone could attend. I can’t wait to find out!”

She dashed out, leaving behind a stark silence.

Settling her bulk into a chair, Martha worried her fingers in the folds of her apron. Tom rubbed his hand back and forth across his mouth. The silence stretched taut.

“
Tom?”

“
I don’t know.”

“
They’re going to hold a funeral for her. They’re going to all but bury the child while she stands and watches. It’s too horrible.”

“
Shh.” Tom reached for his pipe. “Maybe we should tell His Grace and Mr. Minton the truth.”

Martha wiped at her eyes. “But she’d have to live with Lady Vaughan.”