by Jade Lee
Elliott’s sister was with her husband. Amber could hear her voice as she read to the bedridden man. She stood outside the door for a long moment, undecided as to whether she should interrupt or not. But then Diana’s voice stopped, and all was quiet. And in that moment, Amber scratched on the door.
There was no verbal response, but in a moment, Diana opened the door. She looked tired, and the scents coming from inside were terrible. Stagnant air and decay not covered by the scented candles that burned in the room. And then Amber got a peek at the shriveled man on the bed. He might once have been a powerful figure, but now he appeared only bones in a body that hissed as he breathed.
“Amber! How wonderful that you are back,” Diana said as she stepped outside and closed the door behind her. “I was so worried with the storm.”
“It was terrible, but we managed,” she answered, her gaze still on the now-closed bedroom door. “I am so sorry,” she said. The sickness inside must be terrible to witness.
Diana nodded. “Geoffrey came for a visit last night and upset his father. Today, as usual, things are worse for my husband.”
“And you? How did you fare?” She was well aware that one of the reasons for her to stay here was to help protect Diana from her stepson.
“I was away, thank God, but that means I was unable to protect my husband.”
It was a husband’s job to protect his wife and a son’s job not to terrify either father or stepmother, but in this, Diana had not married well. Amber squeezed her hands. “I have something to tell you,” she said quietly. “Something that you will not approve.”
Diana sighed as she looked at Amber. “The prince has turned your head, hasn’t he?”
“The prince?”
“My brother. That’s what my mother and I used to call him. Elliott was imperious even as a boy.” Diana took her hand, and together they walked into Amber’s bedchamber.
Inside, Amber smiled. It appeared she was to have a prince after all. “Of course, he was.” Once they were in her bedroom with the door closed, Amber confessed it all. “I have decided to be his mistress. It is the best place for a girl like me. I can still sculpt jewelry. I will have a home of my own, and I love him.”
Diana looked at her sadly. “What about children? With Mr. Jupp, your son will be a baron one day.”
Amber shook her head, and though the words hurt, she answered with certainty. “I will not have any. I had to choose between love and children, Diana. Please understand that this is what I want.”
Diana’s expression grew pale and vulnerable. As if she were thinking back on her own life and choices. In the end, she gave a quiet laugh. “I am the last person to criticize you. I can tell you that a respectable marriage has not helped me at all.”
No, it had not. “Is there anything I can do?” Amber asked.
Diana looked away as she wiped at her tears. “Be happy. Make my brother happy.” Then from down the hallway, they both heard the sound of coughing. Her husband was awake, and Diana straightened up. “I will tell everyone that you have chosen to go back home to see your grandmother.”
“Thank you, Diana,” Amber stood and gave her an impetuous hug. And as she did, she whispered in her ear. “Beware of Geoffrey. He gambles a great deal at the Lyon’s Den. He will only get more desperate as time goes on.”
Diana swallowed. “I know.” Then after a last melancholy smile, Diana left the bedroom to disappear into the sickroom. She was trapped, and Amber ached for her, but there was nothing to do about it but discuss the matter with Elliott when she could.
For now, there was another person she had to tell, and she doubted that her father would take it nearly as well. She hailed a hackney and went straight to the Lyon’s Den. She walked into the shop to meet the glowering stare of her father, who was not making the brooch. In fact, he was not doing anything but sitting and brooding with an underlying simmer of fury.
He knew.
Of course, her father knew. Elliott was not a man to leave that difficult discussion to her. He must have told him when he’d come with the wax carving. And now, what was she to say?
“I love him, Papa. How many times have you told me of the love between you and Mama? How many things would you have given up to be with her? I shall be independent. I shall still carve wax and make jewelry. I can be independent and be with the man I love.”
“He should marry you!” her father snapped.
“He cannot. You know that as well as I.”
Her father did. They both knew the ways of the aristocracy. And yet, the pain in his eyes when he looked at her tore at her heart. “Your mother would not approve.”
That was a stab to her heart. Enough that she flinched. But she lifted her head and spoke the truth. “Then it is good that she is not here to stop me.”
“I forbid it!” he roared.
This she had anticipated. “Papa, if you deny me, I will leave today. You will never see me again, and I will carve wax for someone else.”
He reared back as if struck because she had indeed hit him where he was most vulnerable. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would, Papa. Because I am a grown woman, and it is time I left the Lyon’s Den.”
That was all she would say. So, she passed by him, her body stiff and her arms aching to hug her father. But she didn’t. She went into the workshop. She did what was needed to make the brooch. She handled the hot metals and the fire. And after an hour’s labor, her father joined her. He didn’t say a word. Disapproval radiated off of him, but he helped her fashion the piece. And they did not speak of her future again.
She missed Elliott when he came to pick up the brooch the next day. She was with her grandfather in the cage, and Elliott did not linger in the shop. Whatever words were said between him and her father remained a secret. And though it irked her that he had not stopped to say hello, she understood that a mistress’s job was to wait on the man. He did not owe her a visit, and more importantly, she heard from her father that his vote was scheduled for that afternoon.
At least she had time to say her goodbyes to her friends at the Lyon’s Den. Many cried. Most applauded her. And as one, the entire establishment waited for the moment Elliott came to claim her for her happily ever after.
He did not show that evening, though she heard from the gossip in the Den that the vote went his way. And she waited through another day.
The next morning, Amber listened to gossip from the ladies’ side about Lady Morthan’s granddaughter. Apparently, the girl had worn the brooch during her presentation to the Prince Regent, and all was well there. An excellent outcome, at least for now. Her grandson was still a thief who should never gamble.
Mr. Christopher Jupp visited the shop on the third day of waiting. They spoke quickly and quietly, and she told him the truth. She was in love with someone else and could not go against her heart. She was not meant for society, and so she would stay here and make jewelry in secret. And when their conversation was over, she passed him a list of women she thought would please him better. She had met a few who were not spiteful. Ones who might understand his artistic soul.
And she waited through another day and night.
By the fourth day, the women in the Lyon’s Den were giving her pitying looks. As many stories as there were of women who became mistresses, there were five times that number of girls being tricked by a man’s promise. Of women who languished in wait because the man they trusted had lied.
But that wouldn’t happen to her. She knew Elliott. He was simply busy. He was arranging things. He would not abandon her because he loved her. Hadn’t he said so on the night she had given him her virginity?
He loved her.
Or perhaps he had gotten what he wanted and now had disappeared when it came time to pay for what she wanted. A home of her own was expensive. Perhaps with distance, he had realized she wasn’t that special after all. Perhaps his mother had found the perfect wife for him, and he was busy courting that paragon.
Such
fears ran through her mind. She dismissed them as best she could. Elliott would come for her. She only had to wait a little longer.
On the fifth day, Mrs. Dove-Lyon invited her to tea. Amber went and listened for an entire hour to stories of women who had been fooled by clever men. Amber was not alone, declared the den owner. Many a girl—Mrs. Dove-Lyon included—had come out stronger and smarter after being swindled. The woman meant well, but her words did not help Amber. Elliott would come for her. She declared it loudly and believed it with all her heart. It was only her mind that disagreed.
It didn’t help that the weather continued to be abominable. Drizzle at the beginning of the week, storms in the middle, and now more rain, such as must have been seen by Noah in his ark. Anyone who ventured outside became drenched in what felt like the displeasure of an angry god. Everyone’s mood was terrible because no one liked hunkering down in their homes. Those that ventured out were soaked to the skin and terrified of illness.
And still, Amber waited while her father paced and glowered at the sky. No customers came in such weather and no Elliott either. Until the night when the sky was pitch black, the roads were more water than mud, and someone banged hard on the den door.
Amber was bringing her grandfather tea in the cage. If she had been locked inside, she would not have heard the prodigious male sneeze that accompanied the gust of bitter wind that blew in from the open door. But she was heading back upstairs, and so she did hear it, and she heard a voice, too. A male voice, dominant and filled with irritation. “Where is Amber Gohar? Or Thisbe Gold?”
Elliott!
He was here! On a night fit for only the devil, Elliott had finally come.
“Wherever she is,” grumbled Lysander from the door. “She ain’t willing to see you.”
“Yes, I am!” she cried as she started to rush forward. But she was holding her grandfather’s tea and sloshed it as she moved. Cursing, she handed the tray to the nearest person—many had looked up at the noise, and she rushed forward. Fortunately, she didn’t have to go far. Elliott was mounting the steps three at a time, and they came face to face at the top.
“Amber,” he breathed as he brushed water out of his eyes.
“Elliott!” she said as she stepped back a bit from the wet splash of his clothes. “You’re soaked through.”
“I am. It’s beastly out there, but I was tired of waiting. Though I fear my horse will never forgive me.”
What was she to say to that? He was standing there looking large and half-drowned while talking about his horse. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to wrap him in dry things before he fell ill. But it had been six long days without word from him. What was she supposed to think?
“I meant to send a message, but everything went crazy. Gwen is in trouble.”
“Oh no!”
“It’s all right for now, but I couldn’t get away to see you. Not when she was in such a state.”
“And your resolution passed.”
He frowned as if he were just remembering it. “Oh, yes. It did.” He rubbed the water off his face with a self-conscious laugh. “That was so important to me, but I barely remember it now.”
Really? She had no idea what to say about that. “But your sister is well now?”
“Yes. She brought it on herself. That’s Gwen through and through. And the whole time, I wanted to talk with you about it. I wanted to know what you thought and if you knew what could be done to help. If…any of a thousand things.”
“I was right here.” She couldn’t keep the note of accusation out of her voice. She’d been waiting for him.
“I know. I know. But…” He took her hands in his icy ones. “I needed to think. I needed to…” He shrugged. “I went to another of those horrible Almack’s evenings.”
So he had been looking for a wife. She had guessed as much. Indeed, she knew she would always come in second to the woman he eventually married. But it hurt to know she had been waiting on him, that she had defended him to all those people who said he had betrayed her, and all the while, he had been looking for his wife.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she tried to move away. She didn’t want him to see her cry. Not when she chose this. Not when she’d known all along and yet, still the ache in her chest was too much. The pain of holding back her tears burned like fire in her throat.
“I couldn’t do it, Amber. I hated looking at them. They are nothing like you, and I couldn’t stand the idea of marrying a single one.”
It took a moment for his words to penetrate her fight to hold in her tears. But when she finally repeated his words in her head, she blinked and frowned at him. “But you will have to marry one of them eventually.” The words came out in an anguished whisper, but he heard her nonetheless.
“That’s what my mother said, but it’s not true. It’s not.” He tugged her closer to him, and she took a stumbling step forward. “If I want to lead the government as Prime Minister, then yes, I would have to marry one of them.”
“But you do want that.”
He shook his head. “I did want that. But Amber, I want you more.”
Her breath choked off. He wanted her. He loved her. The tears spilled from her eyes, and she pushed forward despite his wet state. He stopped her, holding her back until she looked at him in surprise. “Elliott?”
“You don’t understand. I don’t want those other ladies as a wife. I want you.”
“Yes, you said that.”
“I hate the idea of not being able to see you whenever I want, of not having you by my side for everything. For when my mother has one of her problems, for when Gwen gets into trouble. And that doesn’t even begin to address Diana or Lilah.”
“I will do whatever I can. You know that.”
“Yes, I do. Which is why I had to leave in this beastly weather.”
“What?”
“I had to ride all the way to Kent to the family estate. It’s a mess, I tell you. I’m doing everything I can there, and you’ll hate it if you ever go there.”
“I won’t,” she whispered. She wouldn’t ever go there. A mistress never went to the family estate.
“You will mark my words. You will. But that is something else that I wish to speak to you about, though it is horrible far away. And in the rain, I couldn’t go more than thirty miles without stopping. That’s why I took so long.”
His words were so scattered that she began to fear for his health. Normally, he spoke with clear and direct purpose, but he was rushing his words, and they made little sense.
“Elliott, are you ill? Do you have a fever?” She put her hand to his cheek and felt the wet heat there. Not so much that he seemed feverish, but it was hard to tell. Especially as he grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.
“Amber, my darling, I can not—I will not—live without you.” And then he began to sink. His legs must have given out because he dropped down to the floor before her. She cried out in alarm, but he kept sinking, and he was too large for her to hold.
It took her a long moment to realize that he hadn’t collapsed. He was, in fact, on one knee before her. Behind her, she heard men and women gasp in surprise, but she didn’t understand what was happening. What was he doing—
He pulled a ring out of his pocket. It was old, made of heavy gold, and bore the Byrn family crest on it. “I know this is ugly,” he said. “Nothing like the things you make, but it is traditional. It is what every Byrn countess has worn on her wedding day.”
She blinked at it, her thoughts frozen as she stared. She saw the age of the ring and the craftsmanship, which was a ridiculous thing to look at. Not when he was on one knee and holding it out to her. But he had said from the very beginning, over and over, that he could not marry her. So what was he doing now?
“Please, Amber Gohar. Please do me the greatest honor and become my wife.”
Behind her, everyone exclaimed. But Amber just stared at Elliott on his knee before her, ring outstretched. “You cannot mean that,” she whis
pered. “I have already given you my heart. You don’t need to ruin yourself for me.”
He grabbed her hand. “I am not ruining myself. Amber, you are the making of me. Look.” He pulled back his coat and showed her his waistcoat. It was black, and she stared at it in confusion.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“Oh, blast,” he grumbled. “It’s got colors in it. You can’t see it now, but there’s red in there. I swear!”
Someone obligingly brought a lamp forward, and sure enough, there were threads of dark red in it. “It’s…beautiful?” she said. It wasn’t really. It was wet and wrinkled.
“I’ll get another one. You pick the colors, even if it’s yellow. I’m not partial to yellow, you see, but I will for you. If you say it’s beautiful, I will wear it.” He grabbed her hand again and looked in her eyes. “I love you, Amber. Please say you will be my countess. Please.”
Her breath chocked off, and her eyes widened. It was happening. Everything was coming true. Not only did she have a prince, but he was proposing to her on the ugliest night of the year. Soaking wet, shivering with cold, and all because he had to get her the family ring.
“You have swept me off my feet,” she murmured.
“Not yet, I haven’t. But I will if you don’t mind getting wet.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. “I seem to have fallen desperately in love with you.”
He pressed the ring forward. “Then say yes, Amber. Yes, you will marry me.”
“Yes! Of course, yes!” she said as she fumbled to put on the ring. He helped her. And then, just like he’d promised, he swept her up in his arms. And while everyone cheered, he kissed her. Hard and hot, then sweet and happy. They clung to each other, and she pressed herself against him and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.
“Do you know what?” she whispered into his ear.
“What, my heart?”
“We are going to live happily ever after, and it’s going to be wonderful!”
