A Court of Thorns for Lady Ambergrave: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  I have never seen such a color before… For a moment she thought their beauty wasted on a man who would take no particular pride in their enchanting shade.

  “Yes, I suppose there are some who might say that he is handsome,” Luci begrudgingly agreed. “But he shall not prove his worth with those eyes and those looks alone.”

  At a sign from the vicar, Luci started forward, followed by Bette. She averted her gaze, unsure of how she felt about Lord Ambergrave staring at her as she entered. She attempted to put herself in his position. He, too, was marrying a stranger, a woman he may only know by reputation and not by personal acquaintance. Though the fault was purely his that they had not met before now, his affairs keeping him far too busy to come call.

  In a blur, the ceremony took place. Luci clearly remembered the vicar speaking some sort of blessing over the couple, there were questions that she answered dutifully if numbly, and then congratulations were passed round. Her parents embraced her and Bette kissed her cheek, and even Christina beamed at her.

  And then it was over, and all hope of a rescue by her Bradley was lost.

  For as long as he was fortunate enough to live, Gideon would never forget the first words he spoke to his new wife: “If you’ll be so kind as to take the carriage, I’ll see you in a few days.”

  The words themselves weren’t so memorable as the reaction they caused in the new Lady Ambergrave. His wife was clearly confused by his statement, and appeared to be somewhat taken aback. She stared at him in silent condemnation, speechless with what he assumed had to be deep loathing. He couldn’t really blame her, though.

  It’s your own fault for not paying a call once the marriage contract was signed! Gideon thought it over ruefully. He knew it showed a clear lack of manners, but he had his reasons, not the least of which was his reason marrying this particular young lady. You might have had ample opportunity to cancel this ridiculous wedding and avoid any harm. But now it is far too late for that.

  His plans had seemed perfect when they first began to take hold in his mind. He merely needed a wife—any wife, at that—because his parents would have expected it. The more he had thought about it at first, the more he was certain it would provide a great deal of satisfaction. But when he saw the innocently wide-eyed, timid yet beautiful creature who entered the chapel only moments ago, his plans nearly dissipated in a vaporous cloud of longing.

  She is too lovely to marry someone who does not adore her. He continued sneaking glances at her throughout the brief ceremony.

  When the vicar had asked if he, Gideon, did willingly take Luciana to be his wife, he nearly called out, “No, I’ve changed my mind.”

  All that prevented him from doing so was the knowledge that word would spread of the unfortunate near-marriage, and his plans might be discovered. Instead, he had to see them through, even if it meant destroying a stunning, smart lady. His only recourse, as he saw it, was to spend as much time away from her as possible.

  Most couples, upon marrying, might have enjoyed some form of couple’s holiday. But Gideon had serious matters to attend to other than introducing himself to his new bride. His treatments with Sir Rawlings had proven wondrous, so much that he had renewed vigor to see to his house.

  Shouldn’t a wife appreciate a fully staffed home and completed repairs? It seemed reasonable. Moreover, it seemed likely to dull the pain his new bride would endure in a loveless marriage.

  “Derwall, the butler, will show you to your chambers,” he’d added almost as an afterthought. “I apologize, the house is still not well appointed for some staff, but the servants who are there will see to everything you need.”

  Lady Ambergrave had still only stared at him silently, and her expression told him all he needed to know. She’d had no desire to marry him, that much he well knew, but she at least assumed they would introduce themselves to one another.

  “I should return in about three days’ time,” he added, looking behind his wife to where the vicar and bishop were still speaking to her parents. Another woman, one who was only a bit older in appearance than Lady Ambergrave, stood nearby. “I’ve been told you enjoy riding, so I hope you are pleased that the business calling me away is the purchase of eight new horses for the stables. Of course, if you have a particular favorite and if your father does not object, it would be ideal if your own horse moved to Ashworth. But only if you wish.”

  “I do wish it, actually,” she said, speaking at last. She gestured behind her and added formally, “And I shall bring my lady’s maid, Miss Ross, as well.”

  “That’s to be expected,” he said, nodding, “and she is most welcome. Then I shall see you in perhaps three days’ time. Goodbye.”

  “What is that about? Where is he going?” Christina whispered from behind Luci. Lady Thornshire approached next.

  “He’s leaving? After speaking to you so briefly? Whatever for?” her mother asked.

  Luci merely stared after him. His eyes had very nearly bewitched her the entire time he spoke, and more than once she had wanted to look away from his intense gaze. Instead, perhaps in a show of defiance or independence, she had refused to be intimidated, even if that had not been his purpose.

  “He’s going to buy some horses,” Luci explained slowly, still watching him gallop away on his steed. “He shall not return for some time.”

  “Whoever heard of such a thing?” Lady Thornshire asked quietly, looking around to see who else had noticed the Marquess’ odd departure. She caught her husband’s eye and nodded for him to come over. “Have you any idea of what the Marquess is about? He’s just… left.”

  “Left? On his wedding day?” Lord Thornshire asked, standing up on his toes so that he might see Lord Ambergrave for himself.

  “Yes, he needed to buy some horses,” Luci repeated, feeling rather stupid. Just as suddenly, a new feeling overcame her, and she started to laugh. Soon, she clenched her arms around her middle, as if she could physically hold back the peals of laughter. Her parents, her friend, all of them simply stared in wonder.

  “Edgar, you should ride after him,” Luci’s mother said indignantly. “Force him to come back here at once!” But Lord Thornshire would not.

  “It is quite all right, Mother,” Luci assured her, finally regaining her breath but still smiling strangely. “I suppose this is to be my life now, married to one such as Lord Ambergrave, so I might as well get used to his odd quirks sooner rather than later.”

  Luci bade Bette goodbye, begging her to remember to write to her often, then she clung to both of her parents for a few moments. She would have thought her tears over these past few weeks would have dried up her supply, but she cried once again when it was time to tell them goodbye.

  “You’ll visit, my dear, don’t worry,” her mother insisted. Her father cleared his throat several times and blinked rapidly.

  “Of course I will, as often as I can,” Luci promised. “If my husband is to travel frequently and for great lengths of time, you may find that you see more of me now than before I was wed.”

  When it was finally time, Luci and Christina climbed aboard the enclosed carriage and settled back for the long journey to Ambergrave. Neither spoke until the chapel and Luci’s family were out of sight.

  Chapter 6

  “Hurry now! Place all bets, gentlemen!” the rough-looking attendant called out, walking up and down the queue of men. “Last call for race number twelve, ‘tis the last race of the evening. If you plan to be rich by sundown, this is yer last chance.”

  Lord Stillscar, his face and hair obscured by a cap pulled down low over his ears, stepped up to the wooden table and laid down a sum of money. The man at the table counted it, scooped it into a drawer, then marked the amount in a ledger before looking up at him expectantly.

  “Well?” the man said in a weary voice. “What horse then?”

  “Which one’s the longshot again?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the crude board that had been covered with blacking. Someone had scrawled
a series of numbers and the horses’ names on it with a chalk.

  “Pretty Penny,” the man answered, sounding more and more bored the longer the bookings went on.

  “I’ll put it all on Pretty Penny,” Bradley said. A short man standing beside him turned to look at him in surprise.

  Walking away with his ticket in hand, Bradley stiffened when the man caught him by the elbow. He turned to see what was the matter, only to find the man staring in confused awe.

  “What do ya think yer doin’? Ya put it all on the longshot, but ya did not even know who it was?” he asked. “Are ya mad? Ya can’t go throwin’ yer money away like that, ya have to know which horse is what before you go and place a bet.”

  “Thank you kindly for the advice,” Bradley replied with a grin. “But I know what I’m doing.”

  And know he did. Bradley had made a keen study of the track the day before, so the question had been part of the ruse in case he was found out after the race was over. The bookie could vouch for him and say that Bradley had not even known which horse to place the bet on. But Bradley had some help that the others did not have—he knew that the race had been fixed to assure that Pretty Penny would win.

  It’ll be a certain moneymaker. He wound through the burly crowd to find a spot along the track fence. If my sums are correct, this will pay out enough to pay off the bank and reclaim my shares in my uncle’s company. Then my plans can proceed.

  The pushing and shoving grew more rambunctious once the horses meandered to the starting line, led by stable hands who held tightly to their bridles. Bradley had to place a foot on the bottom rail and lean back to keep the throng from pushing him over the fence entirely.

  At the bell, the horses took off and the crowd pressed forward to watch. Bradley strained to see the pack of animals sprinting away from the gate. After a brief silence of awe, the shouts and cheering began, as though each man could spur on his favorite with merely a word.

  Bradley laughed out loud at the sight of Pretty Penny closing ranks and moving up through the file quickly. The rider crouched low over the creature’s neck as together they flew past one horse after another. Hope rose in him and flooded his limbs with a pleasant feeling of relief mixed with joy. But as the finish line waited only a stone’s throw away, the unthinkable happened.

  Pretty Penny stumbled, throwing his rider to the ground as the horses on either side surged across the finish line. A collective shout of panic went up from the onlookers as they waited to see if the hapless man would be trampled by the horses that came up behind. After the poor rider stood and waved to the spectators that he’d survived, only then did the crowd begin to cheer or grouse about their wins or losses.

  Bradley, though, stood mute. His ticket fluttered at the ends of his fingertips, held loosely in his grasp.

  I’m ruined. An empty feeling crept up inside his chest. It was quickly replaced by panic as he realized what had happened. That was all I had. The horse was supposed to win. Why didn’t he win?

  Across the track, Bradley spied Mr. Black, the man who’d told him it was all arranged. The sight of him laughing and shaking hands with several spectators enraged Bradley, who knew then he’d been played for a fool. Before he could formulate a plan, he worked his way through the heavy crowd and stormed around the track.

  Coming up behind Mr. Black, Bradley shoved him from behind so forcefully that the man stumbled, recovering himself long enough to whirl around in anger.

  “What’s the meaning of that, ya scoundrel?” Black shouted, his thick hands already balling up into sizeable fists.

  “You know what you did,” Bradley hissed. “You told me it was all set.”

  “Aye, it was supposed to be. I had a little money on it meself, and so did me brother. But ya cannot count on a horse taking a fall like that,” Black explained, his ire growing.

  “Then what was all the handshaking and pats on the back I just watched? Admit it, you lied to me! You lured me in with a false tale so I would bet heavy on one horse, while your friends there made off with the winnings,” Bradley shouted, pointing at the group that was already on its way to collect.

  “Keep yer voice down, ya idjit! Do ya want everyone to know that yer bettin’ on a false race? ‘Cause I can tell ya plain, it won’t be me that these fellers turn on,” Black said, gesturing to the spectators.

  Bradley swallowed loudly and looked at the crowd. They were certainly not his sort of people, and he had no wish to draw their attention to him. Certainly not if Mr. Black was correct, and they would come after him.

  “That’s right, Lord Fancy Man,” Black said with a sneer. “I know who ya are. I don’t let just anyone know what secrets are happening at the track. I checked ya out, I had ya followed. So unless ya want word to get out that there’s a dandy boy causin’ problems and tryin’ to steal the bets, ya best be on yer way.”

  “I need my money back,” Bradley said quietly, a threatening look in his eye. “You must not understand, it is very important.”

  Mr. Black threw back his head and laughed. “And ya don’t reckon that all these people’s money is important, too? Only yers, is it? Well, la-di-da, Sir Fancy! I shall hurry straight away and inform the bookie that yer bet is to be erased because yer money is important.”

  “You don’t understand!” Bradley argued, a growing desperation in his tone. He stepped closer and insisted, “There is so much at stake. You were the cause of me losing all that I had, and you must return it to me.”

  “I’ll do nothin’ of the sort,” Black said darkly, coming closer and standing directly in front of Bradley. “But if ya don’t be on yer way, I’ll be takin’ far more than just some money from ya. If ya like all those pretty teeth where they are, ya best be goin’ now.”

  Bradley went pale at the man’s threat, but in the end, there was nothing to be done about it. What recourse did he have? To go to the constable and lodge a complaint that he’d tried to profit from a rigged horserace, only to be cheated himself? That would certainly not have the outcome he desired, and might even put him in bad standing with a dangerous man.

  No, all Bradley could do was turn and walk away from the track, the cold emptiness returning to his limbs. It suddenly occurred to him that he could not so much as pay for a carriage home, let alone pay any debts. Instead of succumbing to his misery, though, he realized that he had a very long walk home to come up with a new plan.

  “Luci, wake up, dear,” Christina said, shaking her charge from where she slept soundly, her head on her governess’ shoulder. “I believe we’ve arrived.”

  Luci sat up slowly and looked out the carriage window. At first, all she could see was the glare of the dozens of windows that overlooked the front of the enormous house. Their reflection blinded her for a moment, so much that she had to put her hand to her eyes to keep looking at it. The pale stone façade rose up to numerous spires atop the dormers, all supported by flying buttresses that led to additional wings of the main house.

  “Oh dear,” Luci said, sighing. “This is a lot of home.”

  “My understanding, from what I could uncover, is that Lord Ambergrave is a lot of Marquess,” Christina said rather scornfully. “He’s been gone for a number of years and allowed the house to fall into ruin, and is only now restoring it… at great expense, from what I hear.”

  “Where do you hear such things?” Luci asked, turning to her with an accusing look.

  “We governesses are a very unique lot, my dear. We have no money to speak of, our wages are often barely more than bed and board, and we are neither family nor downstairs servants. As such, we must stick together.” Christina stopped speaking when the driver pulled the carriage up to the house and stepped down, then a footman approached to open the door. She added quickly, “Never permit a governess to carry your secrets for you, she will share them with her ilk in every household across the countryside.”

  “Even you, you mean?” Luci asked, still glaring. Christina laughed as she linked her arm through Luci’s.


  “Shall I answer truthfully, or in such a way as I keep my already precarious position?”

  Luci joined in her laughter and was still giggling softly when she saw the servants had come out to greet their new Marchioness. She immediately went silent, looking from face to face and waiting for someone to tell her what to do.

  “Wait for the butler to approach,” Christina whispered in her ear. “In the Marquess’ absence, he will introduce you to the household.”

  Luci waited, and eventually a smiling man nearly her father’s age came forward and bowed deeply. When he stood straight, he wore a very pleasant expression.

  “My Lady, welcome to Ashworth Hall,” he said formally. “I am Derwall, the butler. May I introduce the rest of the staff?”

  “Please do,” Luci replied, noting their small number. After meeting each one in turn, Derwall explained the reason for such a meager staff.