The Awakening of Lord Ambrose (The Lost Lords Book 6)

by Chasity Bowlin

  The horseman muttered an epithet as the large stallion pranced and reared. Finally, after what seemed an eternity fraught with sheer terror, the beast quieted. The rider patted the animal on the neck, muttering soothing words to him, even as his head came up and he glared daggers at Prim.

  “What the devil are you thinking?”

  Prim sat up, glared at him, and said, “I was thinking that I would sit on that stone fence, in full view of anyone who might approach, and watch my siblings at play. I might add that it is hardly a scandalous activity and would have offered no danger at all had you not been riding so recklessly!”

  “This is private property, Madame!”

  “Yes, it is private property and we are guests of Lord Ambrose,” she snapped. “If you’d be so kind as to give us your name, sir, I will happily tell him how we encountered one another!”

  The man’s lips firmed, pressing into a hard line as his chin jutted forward in obvious displeasure. Before he could reprimand her further, Rowan and Lila came running from their respective directions. Lila immediately wrapped her arms about Prim’s waist and held her tight. Rowan, their little warrior, situated himself between the man and his sisters, as if he truly meant to do battle. Tension radiated from his small body as he clenched his fists and glared up at the man who’d intruded on their pleasant afternoon.

  She was so stunned that it took her a moment to really take it all in. But as she looked at him, Prim’s heart stuttered in her chest. The jutting chin and mutinous expression, Prim realized with dawning horror. The man had looked instantly familiar to her, but it wasn’t because she knew him. It was because she gazed upon a younger version of that face on a daily basis.

  “You should apologize to my sister!” Rowan demanded. “A gentleman would never speak to a lady that way! Never.”

  If Prim had any question about whether or not the man would recognize Rowan, it was immediately answered by the slight narrowing of his eyes as they roamed over the small but fierce boy in front of him. When he’d taken his accounting of Rowan, he looked at her. His expression was measuring, weighing, all seeing, as his eyes roved over her from head to toe. She saw the recognition in his gaze, and the satisfied smirk of his lips.

  “You look like your mother,” he said. “Clearly, I need not worry about behaving like a gentleman. A guest of Lord Ambrose… a guest.” The last was said with such lasciviousness that it was not a mystery what he believed her relationship with Lord Ambrose truly was.

  Prim didn’t bother confirming or denying his ugly suspicions. She’d learned the hard way that acknowledging such accusations only incited more talk instead of dashing it.

  “Perhaps you’d like to be my guest?” he continued. “We’ll see just how far the apple falls from the tree.”

  “Why would she want to come stay with you? You’re mean and careless… and stupid!” Rowan shouted.

  The man’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ve a mind to show you just how mean I can be!”

  Prim shoved Rowan behind her. “If you touch him, I swear to God above, I will see you dead.”

  He laughed then. “Maybe you’re not like your mother, after all! I heard her once telling one of her fellow whores that she’d see you and your sister earning your keep in the family business. Tell me, are your rates comparable?”

  “Leave us be,” Lila shouted. “You’re a horrid man and you don’t know our mother and you don’t know us. You’ve no reason to be so cruel other than just being a miserable person inside!”

  He glanced at Lila then, finally taking notice of her. “Seems I’m not the only one whose bastards are coming home to roost.” With that, he whirled the fearsome mount around and galloped away, the horse’s hoofbeats echoing behind him.

  “What did he mean by that?” Rowan asked.

  “He meant nothing, Ro. He’s just a mean-spirited and hateful man, just as Lila said. But come! We should return to the house,” Prim said, hoping that her tremulous voice would be laid at the door of her fright from the horse.

  “Are you injured, Prim?” Lila asked softly. “I can run and fetch Lord Ambrose to come for you if you need me to.”

  “No, Lila. I’m not injured,” Prim replied, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile as she looped one arm over Lila’s slim shoulders. “Just a bit startled is all. The walk will calm my nerves.” And give her an opportunity to figure out what in the world she would say to Lord Ambrose. He had to have known that one of his neighbors, assuming that the gentleman lived nearby, was either Rowan’s sibling or father. He certainly had some explaining to do, regardless.

  Chapter Ten

  Prim found him in his study. It was the antithesis of everything she wanted to do and ought to do, but it was imperative that she speak to him alone and away from Arabella’s incessant prattling. She also didn’t want to worry Hyacinth. The last thing she wanted was for her sister to fret herself into another attack like the one she’d had at the inn. The brief walk back to the house had been spent ruminating on how best to approach the situation, on what dangers, if any, that gentleman, whoever he was, posed to Rowan. She would have answers.

  As she charged in, her breath ragged from the quick pace they’d kept on their walk home, she noted the arched brow as his gaze scanned her. It was followed by a resigned sigh. It seemed he had some experience with women being displeased with him, enough to accurately read the signs and symptoms, at any rate.

  “I assume there is something that displeases you, Miss Collier?” he asked, placing the quill he’d been scribbling with on the desk and closing the leather-bound book before him.

  Prim had debated how to broach the subject. Ultimately, she had decided that speaking plainly and to the point would be the best option. “Is that blackguard related to Rowan?”

  To his credit, Lord Ambrose did not feign innocence or ignorance. Nor did he dismiss the very abrupt question she’d just lobbed at him in a tone that could best be described as impertinent.

  “Never mind,” she said. “You don’t need to answer that. It’s glaringly apparent that he is. A person would have to be blind to miss such a marked resemblance!”

  “How is that you happened to encounter Lord Samford?” he asked softly. “He’s hardly the sort I’d welcome into this house.”

  “Lord Samford? That’s his name?”

  Lord Ambrose rose and moved past her to close the door. “Let’s step out onto the terrace, Miss Collier, where we can discuss this without the servants overhearing, if you please.”

  Realizing that it was likely a wise course of action, Prim nodded her agreement and followed him to a set of wide glass doors that led outside. The terrace overlooked the park and gardens. Under any other circumstances, it would have been lovely. As it was, her mind was focused solely on the welfare of the children she’d just ushered upstairs to play.

  The minute the door closed behind them, she began peppering him with questions. “Who is this man? Why is he the ‘sort’ you’d never welcome into this house and what will this mean for poor Rowan?”

  “His name is Fredrick Hamilton. His father passed away two years back, around the same time my own did. If it is possible, they are even more scandalous than my father was… they are all certainly more lacking in conscience,” he answered. “His stepmother was the sister to Lord Harrelson whom you may have heard of.”

  She had. Anyone living in England had heard of the high and mighty lord who’d taken to peddling flesh like a Seven Dials abbess. That was Rowan’s family? He was connected to some of the worst and most scandalous criminals in all of Britain? And she’d literally brought him to their doorstep.

  “Is it just the scandal that taints them or is there something about Lord Samford himself that inspires your distaste for him?” she asked. If the man’s behavior toward her was any indication, he was the worst sort of villain.

  “It’s very likely that he had knowledge of, if not involved to his eyeballs, in the schemes of his uncle. Then there’s the matter of his brother a
nd half-sister. If she was his half-sister. Legally, she was recognized by the previous Lord Samford though Lady Samford’s fidelity has always been suspect.”

  “And what was this relationship?” Prim asked with a frown.

  “It’s believed that they were lovers,” he answered bluntly. “Believed by most, known by me. I saw them together. They would sneak about on the estate and I stumbled upon them in rather compromising positions more than once. And quite honestly, Miss Collier, there are men and women who exist in this world who are simply not good. They are not capable of being good. Mr. Severne is one. Lord Samford is another. How is that you encountered him?”

  “He was riding. Rowan was climbing a tree and Lila was picking wildflowers. I sat on a stone fence to watch them. I suppose he came up too quickly to abort the jump,” she replied. Her hands were clenched together in front of her. She was too stoic for wringing them like some helpless miss, but the urge was there nonetheless.

  “Jump? He was riding that beast of his?”

  She was unprepared for the question. “If by that you mean a very large, very black and very terrifying stallion, then yes. I was very lucky to have heard him approaching when I did. I threw myself to the ground and aligned myself as closely to the fence as possible. I was very fortunate. Will that good fortune continue, Lord Ambrose?”

  “What do you mean, Miss Collier?”

  “Is this man a threat to Rowan?”

  *

  What she had described filled him with absolute horror. She had very nearly been killed by Samford’s reckless disregard for anyone other than himself. Of course, if he hadn’t been so adamant in his desire to avoid the temptation of her company, he might have warned her about him and spared her both the terrifying incident and now the uncertainty regarding the questions of Rowan’s parentage.

  “You will be safe here, Miss Collier, and your siblings will be safe here. I give you my word on that.”

  “It isn’t as simple as Rowan being related to him, is it? He is Rowan’s father isn’t he?” she demanded. “He made a comment—” She’d broken off abruptly, clearly more upset by it than she wished to reveal.

  Fear knotting his gut, Cornelius asked, “What did he say to you?”

  After a long pause, the silence growing taut between them, she turned her face away and said in a clipped tone, “He said that I looked like my mother. Clearly he knew her and knew her well.”

  He had the distinct feeling much more had been said than that. “He will not bother you again. I know that he rides across my lands from time to time, despite knowing it is frowned upon. I will send word that it is to halt immediately. And if he should attempt to approach you, your sister or the children, you must tell me immediately. I will take care of this issue, Miss Collier, I assure you.”

  “Did you know before we came here?”

  It was an accusation and he knew the answer would displease her, but he was unwilling to lie to her. “Nicholas pointed out to me the strong resemblance between Rowan and Samford that night after you all left the inn. But it was only a suspicion, it was not confirmed.”

  “Now it is,” she snapped. “We’ve brought Lila here on the promise it would improve her life and now we may very well have placed Rowan in danger. You should have told us, Lord Ambrose, before we came here. You should have let us make that decision on our own, with all of the facts laid out before us.”

  He knew that. He’d known it all along. But it had been selfishness that had kept him from it. He’d wanted her there, along with Lila and the others. Still, he could admit, at least to himself, that everything he had done had been an effort to get her close enough that he might explore the feelings she stirred in him. Then he might determine what course of action to take in regards to them.

  “Yes, I should have. But I did not. All I can do now is make amends and be certain that you are all safe from any harm,” Cornelius promised. It was more than obligation. Keeping her safe was imperative for him in ways that he could not fathom, much less explain. “I can assure you, Miss Collier, that if I had thought the danger posed by the question of Rowan’s paternity outweighed, in any measure, the benefits you would all receive from being here, I would have told you.”

  “Therein lies the problem, Lord Ambrose. It wasn’t your decision to make. I understand that you are Lila’s half-brother, but we are her family. We are the ones who’ve been there for her from the moment of her birth, working and sacrificing to keep body and soul together after our mother’s death. I understand that a man in your position is not used to having his authority questioned but, in this regard, any decisions regarding Lila’s welfare will be deferred to Hyacinth and me. As it has always been.”

  Cornelius watched her turn, skirts whirling, and march from the terrace and through the room beyond. She was in high dudgeon and he could not blame her for it. He’d made a tactical error and he could only pray that it would not cost him further.

  Chapter Eleven

  “The nerve of that man!” Prim snapped.

  “Lord Ambrose or Lord Samford?” Hyacinth asked pertly.

  Both. “Lord Samford, of course. That knowing smirk when he said I looked like Mother—and the dirty look of him as he made those remarks about being Lord Ambrose’s guest! I despise men, Hyacinth. I despise them all.”

  Hyacinth sighed and patted the settee beside her. “Come and sit, Prim.”

  Prim knew what that meant. It would be one of Hyacinth’s infamous heart to heart chats where hard truths were uttered in the gentlest of tones. She was in no mood for it. “What?”

  “Mother was, without question, one of the most beautiful women I have ever beheld,” Hyacinth began. “And I say that objectively, my vision not colored by my love for her. Because I see her faults as well. She was as weak as she was beautiful. She fell in love with every man who batted an eye at her because she was constantly looking for a man to save her when men, by and large, are only ever out to save themselves.”

  Prim blinked at her sister’s plain speaking. Typically, Hyacinth rarely ever spoke of their mother’s shortcomings. “Is this supposed to make me feel better, Hy?”

  “Prim, you do look like our mother. You have her delicate features, her lovely hair, the same spark is in your eye that she had, and of course, her enviable figure… what you do not have is her same weakness. In that regard, Prim, you are as unlike her as night is from day. But that may be a weakness in and of itself. Do not be so opposed to help that you refuse it on principles we cannot afford.”

  Prim rose and paced the floor. “I haven’t. We’re here, aren’t we? Against both of our better judgments, I might add.”

  “Yes, but not without resentment, Prim. You’re waiting for him to show you the ugliness he holds inside him, ugliness that you believe exists not because of his own behavior but what you’ve seen in others. Do you truly believe Lord Ambrose is anything like Lord Samford?”

  Of course, she didn’t. But perhaps she wanted him to be. It would make it easier to despise him, easier to harden her feelings toward him. Every time she looked at him, she was struck anew by how handsome he was. But more than that, she was swayed by the kindness she sensed in him, by this unimaginable need inside her to be closer to him. He had granted them an opportunity to better their lives when no one else ever had. Even the employment offered by Lady Linden had been nothing more than a feather in the woman’s cap, something she could boast about to the other ladies of the parish when it came time for them to sit around a tea table and compare their good works. It was an unkind thought, but not an untrue one.

  “I dislike being beholden to him, Hyacinth. I cannot change that. I dislike being beholden to any man.” Pride was the one thing she’d always possessed in abundance and it was the one thing they could least afford.

  “Beholden implies he expects repayment or some sort of reciprocal arrangement, Prim,” Hyacinth countered. “And I think you do him a disservice to assume that what he has done thus far and will do in the future is anythin
g more than generosity. Your pride will wound you both if you are not careful.”

  Hyacinth rose to her feet. “I’m going to check on Lila and Rowan. They are both far more observant than I would like and I am terribly afraid that after their encounter with Lord Samford today that one or the pair of them might put two and two together.”

  Guilt washed through Prim that she hadn’t thought to do the same. “It was a very brief encounter. I’m certain they’ll be fine.”

  “I’m certain they will, too, one way or another,” Hyacinth replied as she sailed out of the door to their suite.

  Alone, Prim put her hands over her face and tried to make some sense of her feelings for and about Lord Ambrose. It wasn’t as if she knew him very well, after all. She’d spoken to him that day at the cottage, in the carriage as they brought Hyacinth home that night and now here, after their arrival. Three encounters with the man did not account for the strange tingling she felt when he looked at her or for her desire to avoid him so desperately. Why was he different from any other man she’d ever known? He certainly didn’t fawn over her or fall over himself as other men of her acquaintance had. Nor did he grasp at her and try to touch her inappropriately the moment they were alone. He’d never been less than a gentleman. It was that which set him apart and that which also made him a danger to her.

  Prim rose once more and crossed to the window, looking out. She didn’t do well with uncertainty and they were in a position where everything was uncertain. Their home was unfamiliar, their position in the world altered but in ways she couldn’t fully comprehend yet, and all of that had been wrought by a man whose nature was unpredictable to her.