To Love A Lord of London (Wardington Park; Raptures of Royalty) (2 page)

L
ondon
, 1823

B
edfordshire
, England

A
my Ott tapped
her fingers against the porcelain cup in her hand and sat perfectly still. Across from her, sitting just as still, was Jane Croftman. The girl’s smile didn’t reach her dark brown eyes, but it was obvious she was trying to be pleasant… unlike Jane’s older sister.

C
atherine Croftman
, a beauty with the same dark eyes and hair to match Jane’s, parted her lips with a tiny laugh. “I’m sure you’ll have better luck at this year’s season than I had at last year’s… After all, who could resist your dowry?”

Amy watched her cousin, Christa Eaton, stiffen next to her, and Amy fought the smile that wanted to bloom. To make sure no one saw the joy on her face, she brought her tea up to her mouth and pretended to drink the cool liquid. The compliment had not been a compliment at all, rather an insult to Christa’s beauty. Across from Amy, she watched as Jane did the same. The two girls had twinkles in their eyes, glad that Christa had been put down—because after all, she’d started it.

C
hrista Eaton
, the daughter of the Duke of Hensman, was rich, pretty, and the meanest person Amy had ever met. Amy hated that they were related, especially at this moment. Christa had forced Amy to accompany her on a walk to Anglebrook so that Christa could introduce her to her ‘friends’. It was obvious now that Christa used the word ‘friend’ very loosely.

The friends she spoke of were Miss Catherine and Jane Croftman, daughters of a wealthy land gentry. They actually had more money than Christa’s father, the Duke of Hensman, but to many of their privileged peers, like Christa, that did not matter. Money or not, the Croftman girls, along with their elder brother, struggled in society and Christa had made it her business to ensure that they knew it.

W
hich brought
Amy’s mind back to the matter at hand. Catherine’s insult had only come after Christa had commented on Catherine’s failed seasons. She’d had two so far and would be entering her third this spring.

Christa cleared her throat and looked out the window at the far end of the yellow stateroom. Anglebrook Manor was something to behold, and the girl lucky enough to marry Joseph Croftman, their brother, would gain it all—yet another reason Christa was here. “The cool weather is heavenly outside. Are your father and brother hunting this morning?” It was her way of asking if Joseph was around.

Catherine narrowed her eyes, and once again, Amy didn’t blame her. It seemed hypocritical that Christa would put down the sisters of the man whom she wished to marry. “I haven’t the slightest idea, Christa. However, you’re more than welcome to take a stroll through our woods. If my Joseph does have a rifle in his hand, you’re sure to encounter him one way or another.”
By a stray bullet perhaps.

Amy choked on her tea.

Christa gasped.

Jane stood. “Amy, why don’t you and I go out for some fresh air?” Her smile was genuine now but had nothing to do with the thought of air. She struggled not to laugh.

Amy stood. “Wonderful idea, Jane.” She turned to Christa, “If you’ll excuse me.”

Christa didn’t even look away from Catherine as she waved Amy away.

The two ladies left the yellow room and fell into a fit of giggles as they rushed down the hall. Servants with bedding and other linens in their hands skirted around the girls as they moved toward their destination.

“
A
nd where are
you two heading off to?”

The voice belonged to Levi Smith, the Duke of Hensman’s assistant. The young man was handsome. Blonde with pale blue eyes. Though everyone agreed he took life much too seriously, rarely smiling.

Jane said, “Mr. Smith. I didn’t know you were here.”

He turned his head to Jane, “I’m here to see your brother about a business matter.”

“Of course,” Amy said with a smile.

He cocked his head to her as well. Then he looked at Jane, “I hope you’re keeping Miss Ott out of trouble?”

Jane blew a breath. Her brown eyes twinkled like stars. “What’s a day without a little fun?”

Levi’s frown deepened, “Just don’t have Miss Ott embarrass her uncle.”

“
I
won’t
,” Amy promised.

He stared at her, and Amy saw his glimpse of concern.

Amy said again, “We’ll be fine.”

“See that you are.” And then he left.

As the girls walked through the foyer, Jane sighed, “You’d think he were Hensman’s own son the way he goes on and on about the man. Like you could do something to ruin the rake’s reputation anymore than it already is.”

Amy smiled to herself. Jane was just as bold in her thoughts as her sister.

Outside, it was a moment before either girl could catch their breath.

Jane’s dark eyes turned to Amy as they moved through the grass. The air was brisk, and their boots made a cracking sound against the frozen grass. Amy could see Jane’s breath as she spoke, “I’m very glad not to be Christa at the moment.”

Amy grinned as she wrapped her coat tighter around her neck. “I was thinking the same thing earlier in the room. Christa had it coming.”

Jane shook her head as she looked off into the distance. “I don’t know why people continue to challenge Catherine. She’s the tongue of a viper.”

A
my had never heard
truer words. At the age of twenty, Amy had never in her life encountered a woman with a sharper tongue than Catherine. She smiled at Jane, thinking how much she liked the girl. She’d only known the Croftmans for two weeks, but she counted Jane as a friend and hoped Jane saw her the same way. “Your sister is beautiful. Why isn’t she married?” Amy had never been to a season before and feared that if a leggy beauty like Catherine could fail with all her money behind her, than the ward of the duke surely had no chance.

Jane’s dark eyes looked at Amy before turning away. “You mean besides her persistence on being the last to speak?” She shook her head. “Catherine doesn’t believe any man in London is good enough for her, titled or not. She really is more intelligent than every man who’s asked for her hand.”

Amy thought about that as they wandered further from the house.

Jane continued, “But don’t worry about Catherine. She’ll be twenty-five next year, and then she’s sure to marry.”

Amy was confused. “Why do you say so?”

Jane smiled with knowing eyes, “You’ll find out soon enough.”

A
my stared at Jane
, wanting to ask more questions, but decided not to push. She really did enjoy Jane’s company. They were the same age, twenty, and Amy could truly use a companion during her first season. She wasn’t built for this world. Amy was from the city but not from the West End. It was only because of her mother’s death last year that Amy had been thrust into her current situation.

Up ahead, men on horseback headed their way. There were five riding. From their great distance, she didn’t recognize any of them.

Amy asked, “Who are they?”

Jane was watching the riders as well. She narrowed her eyes before nodding her head, as if in agreement with herself. “Yes, there is my brother, your uncle… and I believe the other three men are the Duke of Wardington and two of his sons.”

Amy’s eyes went wide as she turned to Jane, “Why would the Duke of Wardington be here?”

Jane replied, “Why, they’re our neighbors… your neighbors as well, since you live with the Eatons. Did nobody tell you this?”

N
o one had told
her anything, but she’d heard stories about the Duke of Wardington… and his three sons, the Dawntons. Rakes, all of them. Being from the less fortunate part of London, Amy heard better gossip than what was printed in the papers that the upper-class would read. She knew people from gaming halls, taverns, and the like. She knew people—women, who told elaborate, and dare she say, risqué, stories about the Dawnton brothers.

The men came to a halt as they noticed the women.

J
ane gave
a small bow to them all, “Duke Hensman, Duke Wardington, my lords, Joseph.” She’d announced them in line of their titles.

Hensman, who was Amy’s uncle, looked down at his niece, though he’d never needed to be on horseback to do it so efficiently. From the seat of his mare, he looked every bit the duke that he was. Dark eyes and gray hair, he was just as rakish as the Dawntons—the only difference was he was married—and didn’t care. He turned to the other man and did the introductions. “Wardington, I’d like you to meet my niece. Miss Amy Ott, this is the Duke of Wardington and his sons, Marquess of Clariant, and Lord Mark Eaton.” He’d skipped over introducing Joseph, as Amy already knew Jane’s other brother.

A
my curtsied
, though she wasn’t sure if that was what she was supposed to do. “Hello,” she whispered under her breath, hoping that no one heard her. What could she say in the face of such wealth and aristocracy? They sat on their mounts as though they themselves were the Prince Regent, and she could easily see both women and men mistaking them for kings. They were all very handsome men, even Duke Wardington himself, who had to be in his late forties at least. Though he had a full cap of gray, his green eyes were reflected in both his sons. Their hair, blonde locks, golden twin halos, but it was the darkness in their green eyes that made it clear they were not angels in the least.

The men all nodded their heads at Amy and welcomed her to Bedfordshire.

Duke Wardington stared at her. Finally, he asked, “Have we met before?”

Amy kept her face from giving away her anxiety. “No,” she whispered.

Her uncle cut in, “I wouldn’t think you’d have. Amy’s mother chose not to run in our circles.”

Wardington nodded, but his dark eyes remained on Amy.

The Marquess of Clariant asked Jane, “Let me guess, Lady Christa is visiting with your sister again?” His voice was deep and smooth, yet cold, like fresh ice.

Jane smiled. “Indeed, she is, my lord. And my sister is well. I’ll tell Catherine you asked after her.”

The Marquess grunted. “You’ll do no such thing. I didn’t ask after her.”

Jane curtsied again, but a smile was on her face. “My apologies, my lord, I was mistaken.”

H
e made
a incoherent sound before looking away, dismissing both women. Amy had gotten hints of a story that dealt between the Marquess of Clariant and Jane’s sister and found herself more interested than she had since moving to the country.

Another rider began to come up behind the men. He was riding hard, his golden curls blowing in the cold air. As he came closer, it was obvious that rider and horse were in sync with one another. He looked graceful as he headed their way then slowed the black mare down before coming to a stop by the other two men who held the same features. He was the middle brother. His smile instantly brightened the morning, even though he wasn’t looking at Amy at all. His cheeks were red from the ride, causing his green eyes to look more alive than ever. And then he looked at her. His eyes, like summer in the midst of winter. “Hello,” he spoke and when it reached Amy’s ears, she swore she felt its caress like a warm, midnight velvet. Where his brothers seemed cold, he was not.

Amy simply stared. Her hands went behind her back, her fingers touching the small cross that hung from a tiny bracelet hidden by her gloves.

Her uncle introduced him, “Lord Nathaniel Dawnton. This is Miss Amy Ott, my niece. She’ll be staying with me.”

Nathaniel
. Amy’s eyes went wide. Of course that was who he was. Beside the duke, no Dawnton had more tales than that of Nathaniel Dawnton. They’d called him the London Lover because once you fell for him, you were ruined for any other man.

T
he green-eyed
stranger spoke again, “I’m sure you’re looking forward to the season, Miss Ott.”

Andrew interrupted saving Amy from answering, “There’s nothing more wearisome and repetitious than the season. How anyone looks forward to it is beyond me.”

Nathaniel’s playful smile didn’t waiver, “I didn’t say it were likely. I only said it were true.”

“
L
overs’ Vow
.” Amy spoke without thinking.

Nathaniel’s head whipped around to stare at her, much like everyone else.

Amy never wanted to be sucked into the Earth more than she did at the moment.

Nathaniel’s smile brightened, “You know an Elizabeth Inchbald quote when you hear one?” The interest was plain.

Amy’s mouth opened and closed a few times before saying, “I—I’ve read the play a few times.” She’d worked behind sets at a poor theatre on the East End of London, though she’d never admit such a thing in public.

Andrew asked, “Why does that name ring a bell?”

Nathaniel offered the information, “Our dear Jane Austen had it featured in her book,
Mansfield
Park
.”

Everyone seemed to nod at that. There was a title that everyone had heard, as it was more popular.

Amy sighed, no longer feeling like the target for their eyes… until Nathaniel called her out again.

“I forget. What year did
Lovers’ Vow
come out?” he asked, though it was obvious that he knew the answer to his own question. What he really wanted to know was how much Amy truly knew about the play.

Amy cleared her throat. Twice. “Well, as one of August von Kotzebue’s
Das Kind der Liebe
adaptations, it was written in 1798. It actually ran for forty-two nights in Covent Garden that year.” She looked away. “It was the most successful play that season… I hear.”

N
athaniel’s smile grew
.