A Priceless Gift: A Regency Romance

by May Burnett

  “I hate him,” Amanda said vehemently. “I hope he rots. You said something about ruining him? He certainly deserves that, but my aunt and Doris and the other children do not.”

  “Most often the threat is enough, if delivered with enough conviction.”

  She remembered how he had coerced her mother into letting Eve stay in her house. How often he had employed threats, whether on his government’s behalf or his own? “And when it’s not enough?”

  He shrugged. “Then one must carry through, no matter how painful for yourself and others. It weakens your position fatally if it gets about that you made a toothless threat, even once. One must carefully count the cost before uttering a threat.”

  “I know. When I was about seven, we had a nursemaid who kept threatening punishment but never had the heart to carry it out. We became so ungovernable that she was let go in the end.”

  The conversation calmed her, allowed her to arrive at her uncle’s house with tolerable composure. Lucian descended first and helped her down, offering his arm as they turned to the door. Lady Budleigh’s butler had been on the lookout and opened it even as they approached.

  “My lord, my lady, please come through here.” He led them to the drawing room where they had fought over Eve earlier in the Season. This time it was only occupied by Mrs. Prendergast.

  “Mother,” Amanda said cautiously. “How is your brother? Is my aunt with him?”

  “Good morning, Ma’am,” Lucian drawled, his expression sardonic.

  “Regina has retired to bed with a migraine, and Doris has not yet awoken after the ball,” her mother said. “Have you any idea what can be the matter with Roderick? He insisted that we send for you and would not explain.”

  “You were not willing to believe Amanda last year,” Lucian said. “Why are you asking her now?”

  “Because something is wrong, I feel it.”

  “What is ailing Sir Roderick? We were told he is sick. What are his symptoms? Has a physician been sent for?” Lucian asked.

  “I wanted to do so, but Roderick insisted he wanted to talk to Amanda first.”

  Amanda exchanged a swift look with Lucian. “I cannot image why,” she said lightly. “Unless he thinks he is near death and wants to ask my forgiveness.”

  Her mother frowned. “That was not the impression I received. Since you are here, I suppose I’d best lead you to him.”

  They followed her upstairs into what was apparently the master bedroom. When you took a furnished house, you could not be too picky about the décor, but the purple curtains drawn over the windows were so garish that Amanda blinked. One was moved to the side, letting a broad ray of light fall into the oblong room. It had other doors on either side, closed to Amanda’s relief. She wanted no witnesses to this interview.

  Sir Roderick had been reclining with his eyes closed, but opened them when he heard them enter, and glared at Amanda and Lucian.

  “Leave us, Ellen,” he commanded Amanda’s mother. She seemed inclined to refuse but yielded with bad grace when Lucian said, “It might be best.”

  Amanda said nothing. Her uncle was not about to die, she surmised, and her inner panic lightened. She had the advantage—upright, healthy, and with her husband at her side.

  “I cannot imagine,” Lucian said at his most aristocratically haughty, “why you asked for my wife to visit your sickbed. What do you want, Budleigh?”

  “I want the antidote.”

  “What?” Amanda feigned surprise. “What are you talking about?”

  “Whatever you did to me, to make me feel so sick, I demand that you reverse it.”

  “Is it possible,” Lucian said ominously, “that you are accusing my wife, my countess, of harming you in some way? I must suppose that your brain is affected by your sickness. Let us go, Amanda, this man is raving.”

  “I know it was you!” Sir Roderick shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. With an effort, he sat up, the blanket covering his lap. “Who else could it have been?”

  “Nonsense. Why should Amanda do such a thing?” Lucian sounded dismissive. “Is there something I do not know by any chance?”

  Cold sweat broke out on Sir Roderick’s brow. “I, she, err, that is—” he stopped stammering, fixed her with a coldly accusing glare. “You are the only one who had a reason to harm me! Don’t try to deny it!”

  “You mean because you assaulted me last year when I was a guest at your estate?” Amanda smoothed her glove over the folds of her skirts. “Would you really want that to get about? You committed a crime that could ruin you.”

  “Did he?” Lucian eyed the prone baronet like a falcon would a small mouse.

  “It could ruin you, too. I don’t care about the past. Just give me the antidote, and we can forget all that,” Sir Roderick wheedled. Amanda blinked. Did he really think she was going to forgive and forget?

  “I fear I cannot,” she said with a regretful shake of her head.

  “Amanda! Don’t tell me you know what ails your uncle,” Lucian’s voice held a clear warning. But she had the bit between her teeth.

  “I cannot say for sure,” she said hesitantly, “but I have a suspicion. While you were gone, Lucian, I met this gipsy woman.”

  He said nothing but cocked his head attentively.

  “She told me that she could destroy anyone who had gravely wronged me. Her curse would make a man’s privates shrivel, and there was no recourse or antidote. I laughed at such superstition, of course, but gave her a shilling, out of pity for her poverty. She must have performed the curse after all in recompense. If I remember rightly, it was to activate the first time I saw the offender again.”

  “What nonsense,” Lucian said shortly, though his eyes gleamed. “I am surprised at you, Amanda, that you would give a moment’s credence to such foolishness! Gypsy curses, forsooth! Need I remind you that to talk of such matters as privates is most indelicate, even for a married woman? Let us call a physician to treat your uncle’s problem, whatever it is, and take our leave.”

  “Shri-shrivelled?” The baronet’s voice trembled. Amanda felt no smidgen of pity. He had not taken pity on her desperate struggles and had threatened Eve only the previous night. “No antidote?”

  Lucian stared at him coldly. “Don’t pretend that you believe in such nonsense, Budleigh. You had no right to bother Amanda just because you feel sick, for whatever reason. If she had actively encouraged this gipsy to curse or even kill you, I would have merely applauded her. That would be no more than you deserve. I was already planning to hound you out of London. Does the Remingwood Consortium ring a bell? Your investments there would shortly have taken an irrevocable turn for the worse.”

  “But—but,” the baronet said in horror, “then you know? Amanda cannot have been so foolish as to talk out of school after I warned and threatened her to keep quiet.”

  Amanda sighed. From his words, he had not guessed that her twins were the result of his crime, and it had better remain so. “I have no secrets from my husband.”

  “You did not tell me about that gipsy,” Lucian charged in a tone of deep reproach.

  “Well, yes, but I had forgotten all about it myself. It was months ago, and so much has happened since. And besides, I only wanted a love charm from her.”

  Before Lucian could reply, the closest of the side doors burst open, and Amanda’s mother entered like an avenging fury. Ignoring her daughter and Lucian, she rounded on her brother.

  “Roderick! So it is true after all? You debauched my little Amanda?”

  Sir Roderick tried to shrug and winced at some pain—lower in his body? Let him suffer, Amanda thought vengefully.

  “Of course not,” he tried to deny the accusation. Lying even now, the worthless cad.

  “I heard with my own ears what you discussed with her,” Ellen Prendergast said, her voice choked. “I am not staying another minute in this house! You are no longer my brother!” She turned to Amanda. “I am so sorry.”

  “Come with us now,” Amanda s
aid. “Your luggage can be sent for later.”

  “I strongly suggest that you leave London,” Lucian told the baronet. “Nurse your health in the country. Don’t return to London, or your investments will soon become worthless, whatever they might be. Let your wife and young Doris enjoy the Season without your unwanted presence. And, if I hear that you voiced your unfounded suspicions or aspersions on Amanda to a single other soul, your life will take yet another turn for the worse. Do not risk it.”

  “If you come near one of my daughters ever again, I shall kill you myself,” Amanda’s mother vowed. “If our father had lived to see this, he would have died of shame. As long as you stay in Sussex, I shall not say anything to Regina and Doris, except that we had a falling out.”

  Nothing more was said. Lucian escorted the ladies outside. They told the butler to have Mrs. Prendergast’s luggage sent to Rackington House.

  Once in her home, Amanda had the best guest room readied for her mother and led her there.

  “You must hate me,” her mother said. “Oh, poor Amanda, I was so wrong . . . but I have known him since he was a charming little boy. How was I to imagine . . . but then you are my own daughter. I should have known . . . I cannot begin to say how much I regret these past months.”

  “Let us try to forget them,” Amanda said softly. “Do you want to see your grandchildren? I am going to the nursery now.”

  Her mother nodded, tears in her eyes. They found Eve with the children, reading a story to Sigurd.

  While the nurse was changing Mary, Amanda’s mother reached out and held little Marcus to her shoulder. In a choked voice, she said, “Thank you. Is he named after your father?”

  “Of course, though I gave him two other names, Marcus Robert Lucian. We must write to Father soon.”

  “Yes,” her mother said, dreamily regarding the little boy slumbering in her arms, “we really must.”

  Chapter 32

  Leaving her mother and Eve admiring the children in the nursery, Amanda returned to her room, softly closing the door behind her. She needed time to take stock, regroup. In all probability, she would not be publicly accused or arrested, and her evil uncle would likely survive her potion, in whatever condition. She had been luckier than she deserved.

  Turning towards the window she saw Lucian, leaning against the connecting door to her dressing room. He was staring at her with a strange expression.

  She acted by instinct, walking towards him and putting her arms around his strong chest. “Thank you.”

  “For what, exactly?” He did not immediately react. “You hardly needed me. That story of the gypsy was inspired. You let Roderick know that it was you who had punished him, in such a way that no legal blame could possibly attach to you. You are already good at intrigue, it would seem.”

  “I could only do it because you were there to give me courage and support. I am only an apprentice wolf as yet. Teach me how to do it better.”

  He shook his head. “Amanda, I don’t want you to take such matters into your own hands. While I live, you should leave dealing with such scum as your uncle to me.”

  She put her hand on his warm neck, felt the blood pulsing quickly. “Are you angry that I did not take you into my confidence beforehand?” He did not answer. “Lucian, we faced him together. With your support, I can manage anything. Even that benevolent society I’m planning with Mattie. But none of it matters if we two are at odds. I love you.”

  She wanted to recall her words the moment they had escaped. He would not care for such sentimental twaddle. Love was for bourgeois and fools.

  But from the way Lucian grasped her shoulders and stared into her eyes, arrested, he was not repelled by her impulsive confession. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard,” she said defiantly. “I love you, Lucian. I never expected that when we first wed. I was naïve and foolish. Your age, your reputation, and your libertine views seemed insurmountable obstacles. Somehow, none of that matters anymore. Though I warn you, I don’t want to become one of those licentious ladies who sleep with all and sundry at their whim. I want only you, Lucian, and for you to want only me.”

  He seemed at a loss for words.

  “If that is too much to ask for, let me down easy,” she said. “Remember that I’m only eighteen.”

  “Nineteen in two weeks,” he said, smiling. “I keep close track of your age, Amanda. Of every single detail about you. It is the strangest thing that, for the first time in all those years, I, too, am in love. More, I love you even when you lie with a straight face and invent outrageous stories about gypsies.”

  She smiled. “From what your aunt tells me, lying is an essential skill in society. But I don’t want to lie to you, Lucian. If one cannot be frank and truthful in one’s own family, where can one?”

  “I am your family?” He bowed down for a swift kiss on her neck.

  “You and the twins and Eve and my parents and brothers and Ursula and Mattie and Sigurd,” she said. “But most of all, you, Lucian. Stay with me, or if you have to travel again, take me with you.” After a moment’s pause she added, “When the children are older, at least.”

  “Ah. One of the things I adore about you, Amanda, is that you are a good mother. Probably the first one in several generations of Rackingtons.”

  “I want more children,” she said, emboldened by his response to her assertiveness. “Will you mind if your own son is not the heir?”

  “You have to ask?”

  “No. You will be a good father to all of them, without difference. I know you, Lucian. You may have been brought up by monsters, but you are a good man. How you managed that, living in the world you do, I have no idea. But I am very glad of the result.”

  He shook his head, but instead of arguing, he kissed her again, deeply. “Will you promise me something?”

  “Whatever you like, Lucian.”

  “Don’t ever give those ruby earrings away, the one that fellow tried to grab last night. Keep them well hidden.”

  What a strange request. “As you like,” she said, mystified. “I am not in the habit of giving away your presents. That sable coat and muff will be around for many winters to come, too.”

  “Never mind about that.” He took her hand and drew her towards the door separating their apartments. “Will you come to bed with me?”

  It was mid-morning, but she had not gotten much sleep. Then again, she suspected it was not sleep he had in mind.

  “Gladly.” She followed him. “You must be tired, after the ball and everything since,” she said with spurious concern.

  He turned to her. “Because I’m so old and doddering?” Was that a flicker of uncertainty in his expression? Surely not. Not her supremely confident, experienced, controlled husband.

  “Are you? I had not noticed,” she said. “You are still under forty and much stronger than I.”

  “Thank God for that,” he muttered. “Amanda, you little witch, you have turned my world upside down and cost me my tranquillity. I cannot stand the notion that I might lose you.”

  She turned serious. “Nor I you, Lucian. But since we will not live forever, I want to enjoy every day, every night that we have together.”

  “Good.” He kissed her again, deeply, “Did I tell you how lovely you looked at the ball?”

  “When we set out, but I don’t mind hearing it again. You were splendid yourself, every inch the arrogant nobleman. You are much more impressive and handsome than the Prince Regent.”

  “Not to say slimmer,” he said drily.

  She perched on the edge of an armchair and pulled off her slippers as he watched. “Why did you ask me to keep the ruby earrings? What else did you expect me to do with them, throw them down a drain?”

  “It seems that they were a gift from Czar Alexander to his mistress. He told her that they safeguarded a lover’s fidelity. After she had given them away to another lover.”

  Amanda shook her head. “More superstition. You cannot possibly believe in this drivel.”<
br />
  “I am keeping an open mind. Yesterday I would not have believed that a potion with two small spiders could unman a big fellow. Now I am almost inclined to believe in gipsy curses. Why not that also?”

  “So that ruffian tried to recover them for the czar? Was he acting for the Russian secret service?”

  “Hardly, he is much too impulsive and inept. But I would be surprised if Alexander did not know perfectly well what happened to those earrings. And he is not so foolish as to expect loyalty from his mistress when he ignores his wife’s affairs. Likely, he invented the supposed legend because he already knew to whom she had gifted them. There are informers in every noble household.”

  “Is the czar likely to send someone after them?”

  “No. He can afford to buy them back, but he would not bother, especially while war is threatening his country and reign.”

  “If the rubies did not truly have that legend attached to them in the past, we can start such a legend here and now,” Amanda suggested. “I would prefer that they symbolize continued harmony and happiness between giver and recipient, for as long as the stones exist.”

  “A lovely thought.” He tore off his neckcloth. “They are likely to outlast us by many generations.”

  “Then they will encourage our descendants to be happy in their marriages, too,” she pointed out. “I think they should be passed from mother to eldest daughter by inheritance. Marcus already gets so much.”

  “There will be plenty left for Mary and any other children.” His eyes bored into hers, dark and intense. “Are you certain you want them?”

  “Yes, if you agree. It seems only fair that I should have children from the man I love. I will not love them more than the twins, but they will carry something of you into the future.”

  “And of you, Amanda. That will be the best part of them,” he told her, as his hands quickly dealt with her fastenings and peeled her out of the dress. “I did not want to infest the world with more Rackingtons, but as long as you are their mother, darling, I dare say the world can stand the risk.”

  She frowned. “I will not have you put yourself down like that. You are not your horrid father, but the man I love and respect. You should respect him as well.”