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

by Emma Linfield

  “Lord Ambergrave has not been returned long, only a matter of months. He intends to bring on more staff once all the renovations to the house are complete. In the meantime, he has requested that you interview and hire several of the positions.”

  “Me?” Luci asked, looking to Christina suddenly for confirmation. Her governess only looked back at her placidly, as if reminding her of some unspoken rule. “That is, I would be happy to. If you’ll let me know when anyone comes seeking the position, I will get on it straight away.”

  “Very good, My Lady,” Derwall said, obviously relieved at this new Marchioness’ easygoing nature and pleasant demeanor. “I will show you to your chambers, if you wish, and take note of what you would like to dine on this evening. Will you take your meals in the dining room in Lord Ambergrave’s absence? Or in your private sitting room?”

  They discussed other important details of the household as Derwall led her to her chambers, Christina following closely behind. When the butler finally took his leave, Luci’s head was filled to overflowing with both vital and useless information.

  “Christina, how am I to manage? I don’t know what I’m doing,” she cried, falling onto the bed. “I’m a pretender, nothing more. A pretender wife with no love lost for her husband, and now a pretender noble who has no notion of what to do.”

  “Oh, never fear,” Christina replied gently, coming to stand beside her. “You did not ask for this, so you cannot rightfully be expected to take to your position like a swan to the pond. You will have time to learn what needs be done.”

  “Apparently I have but three days!” Luci cried, still not persuaded that all would be well. “In that time, I must learn how to be the wife of this mysterious man, the mistress of a house bigger than some villages, and bring on servants as though I owned the estate.”

  “Lady Luciana—nay, make that Lady Ambergrave now—” Christina said with a rueful smirk, “—you do own the estate. Now behave as such and let’s unpack your things. There will be time enough to figure out how to be a lady.”

  Chapter 7

  Three days quickly became a week, and then two. There was still no sign of Lord Ambergrave’s return, and though Luci fretted whenever she thought of her husband appearing suddenly, she was also relieved. He did send word once or twice—addressed to Derwall, for some reason, and not her—otherwise Luci might have wondered if she was already made a widow.

  Then just as suddenly, Lord Ambergrave sent a letter that he would soon be home.

  The household flew into a near panic, all but Luci. She saw no cause for the flustered efforts at cleaning and dusting, of changing the linens and stocking the larder. It was all so much effort and trouble for a man who hardly seemed to reside there.

  “Lady Ambergrave, I am here to inform you that Lord Ambergrave has arrived,” Derwall announced formally one morning. Luci, who had just prepared to go riding, tugged on her second glove, thanked Derwall for the news, and then walked past the perplexed butler and continued on towards the stable.

  “What are you doing?” Christina asked, her own riding habit already buttoned to accompany Luci.

  “I’m going for a ride, as I’m sure you can tell by my attire. Jacques only arrived from my father’s stables two days ago and I’m still getting him accustomed to his new home, after all,” Luci said, gathering her hat and heading to the door.

  “Luci, you must stay. Your husband has come home and you should be here to greet him,” Christina said, her typical admonishing tone put to use again.

  “If my husband had cared at all about seeing me, he wouldn’t have sent me on my way on the very day we were married. At the very least, perhaps he would have returned home when he said he would,” she retorted. “I see no reason to interrupt my ride for one with such lack of simple manners.”

  “You know I adore you and would do anything you ask,” Christina began, still trying to persuade Luci, “but this is truly bad form.”

  “And so is staying gone long after he was supposed to return. For all I know, he was off on holiday with his mistress. Should my horse be denied his necessary exercise so my husband, having finally grown weary of another woman’s bed, has lowered himself to return home?”

  “I was not with my mistress,” a deep, stern voice said from behind her.

  Christina went pale as Luci turned to face Lord Ambergrave. He was every bit as intriguingly handsome as she remembered—from the brief half hour or so that she had seen him—but unlike her governess, she was not intimidated by him in the least.

  “Lord Ambergrave,” she said, sounding rather surprised. “I did not know you had entered the room and were listening in on my conversation.”

  “It’s rather hard to avoid hearing when your voice echoes off the walls of my house, accusing me of frolicking elsewhere,” he said seriously. “But you are wrong. I was not with my mistress.”

  “I suppose that is good to hear for I—” she began. But the Marquess cut her off.

  “I only visit my mistress on Thursdays,” he added before marching past her and leaving the room, his long strides punctuating each step against the marble floor like a retort of pistol fire.

  After he’d left the room, Luci fought back tears of anger. Christina pretended not to notice. Instead, she placed an arm around Luci’s shoulders and waited for her to speak.

  “Remind me to change the new housekeeper’s schedule, if you please,” Luci finally said.

  “Oh? For what?” Christina asked.

  “So that all the washing may be done on Thursdays from now on.” Luci turned and stormed out of the room, heading to the stables where Jacques waited patiently in his stall.

  “There you are, my handsome boy,” Luci crooned to her horse when she entered the darkened stable, her mood lifting considerably upon seeing him. “Did you miss me? I certainly missed you.”

  Luci took Jacques’ saddle down from its post and put it over a saddle blanket emblazoned with a golden letter A. After tightening the girth, she went to the tack room to retrieve his tack. Luci stopped when she heard two men talking outside the window.

  My husband isn’t the only one who can play the spy. She felt bitter, crouching down slightly and leaning closer to the open window. To be certain, Lord Ambergrave was talking with another man who seemed to be the stablemaster.

  “The horses I’ve procured will arrive in less than a week’s time,” Lord Ambergrave said. “Will the additional stalls be ready by then?”

  “Tis most likely, My Lord. If not, there would only be one or two short. We could surely find a place for two horses in the meantime, perhaps in the carriage house until the stalls are complete,” the man answered. “Are they all of the same breeds?”

  “Yes, and very expensive. They’ll need to be tended to immediately and their comfort seen to.” It was quiet while Lord Ambergrave was lost in thought, but then he said, “We can move that old farm horse out of the way to make room for the Arabians, should it come to that.”

  Luci stifled a gasp. How dare he speak of Jacques that way? And talk of leaving him out in the cold and damp overnight?

  “Where should I put him, My Lord?” the stablemaster asked, but the Marquess laughed derisively.

  “I should think the butcher shop would do just fine,” he replied. Luci clapped a hand over her mouth to keep her cry of protest from escaping. Fortunately, Lord Ambergrave said, “Oh, don’t look so aghast. I was only speaking in jest. Lady Ambergrave may not be all that I’d imagined, but she is feisty, that is for certain. She would pack me off to Paris for the guillotine if I touched a hair on that animal’s tail.”

  To his credit, the stablemaster did not reply. He didn’t speak up for Jacques’ fine qualities, but he also did not join in the cruel jest of having her horse killed. But Lord Ambergrave’s last words stung hatefully: She may not be all that I’d imagined.

  Luci was of half a mind to speak up, to inform the great lord that he was not what she’d envisioned in a husband, either. And more to the p
oint, how were either of them to know who the other was unless Lord Ambergrave deigned to actually spend more than five minutes in her presence?

  She stood up to defend her horse and her own honor when she was yanked backwards painfully, landing on the floor of the tack room with a loud thud. Reaching up, Luci felt the nail that protruded from the wall beneath the window, the very same nail that now held captive a thick lock of her hair.

  Oh dash it. She angrily reached both hands up, feeling blindly in an effort to free herself. It would be humiliating if it didn’t hurt so much.

  The more she struggled to unleash her hair, the more tangled it seemed to become. Luci twisted it and turned it, yanking it this way and that, but without eyes above her to see the problem, she could not free herself.

  Only the sound of approaching footsteps made her give up. The heavy boots strode purposefully down the length of the wooden hallway, coming closer. Luci was ready to rip the offending lock from her scalp in order to free herself before anyone could see her predicament, but she was too late.

  “What are you doing down there?” Lord Ambergrave asked, eyeing Luci suspiciously.

  “Nothing,” she answered, attempting to look serene.

  “It does not appear to be nothing. It appears as though you are trapped somehow,” he said, narrowing those beautiful eyes as he sought to understand her plight.

  “I am merely caught on a nail, but I will have myself free in no time,” she answered with a dismissive sniffle.

  Lord Ambergrave looked at her appraisingly, taking several moments to assess Luci’s situation, then he merely shrugged and said, “All right then,” before leaving the room.

  “Wait a moment!” Luci cried out. “Are you actually going to leave me like this?”

  Lord Ambergrave stepped back into view, looked at Luci, and nodded. “Yes. You said you had no need of my assistance, so carry on.”

  And then he was gone again. Now furious, Luci kicked her feet against the wooden floor in anger. Instead of working her way loose, the movement only seemed to lodge the offending nail even further into her hair.

  “My Lord?” someone called outside the window. “Lady Ambergrave’s horse is out of his stall and wearing a saddle, but I do not see the rider. Do you know if Lady Ambergrave intends to ride today, or should I put her horse away?”

  “I don’t know,” Lord Ambergrave said loudly enough for Luci to hear through the open window. “I haven’t seen her.”

  So that’s how we’re to play it then… Anger caused her blood to boil in her veins. The game is cruelty? I may not be a seasoned player, but I am a quick study!

  That evening, after finally freeing herself and putting Jacques through a relatively brief ride about the estate, Luci sat reading in her chambers when the housekeeper knocked at the door. After bidding her enter, Luci looked at the woman, Mrs. Cushings, and smiled at her.

  “My Lady, now that Lord Ambergrave is once again returned home, I came to inquire whether you will be taking your meal in the dining room?” she asked. “Dinner is promptly served at eight.”

  “Well,” Luci said, pretending to think it over, “I think not. I’ve grown rather accustomed to eating up here, if you’ll please inform the cook and Derwall?”

  Mrs. Cushings looked uncomfortable, but at a slight nod from Christina, she answered, “Very good, My Lady. I’ll let them know.”

  She curtseyed and left, but no sooner had the door closed behind her than Christina was up in arms once again. She stood up, flung her needlepoint into its basket, and began to pace the floor.

  “Luci, what are you plotting?” she finally asked, a worried look on her face.

  “What do you mean?” she asked without looking up from her book.

  “You know what I’m referring to! How long do you think Lord Ambergrave will tolerate insolence and downright rudeness?” Christina asked, fretting and twisting her hands. “You risk putting your parents in a very compromising position.”

  “How so?” Luci asked, sitting up in alarm. “What of my parents?”

  “There was an agreement,” Christina said urgently, coming to kneel down beside Luci’s chair and speak tenderly. “You agreed as well. Whether you are happy with your circumstances or not, your father signed the contract. You signed the contract. Now you must abide by your promise to be the Marquess’ wife.”

  “So if I continue to displease Lord Ambergrave, he might send me home?” Luci asked, brightening significantly.

  “Oh, he might, but it would not have the results you’re hoping for in that calculating mind of yours. He would be within his rights to demand his funds back from your father, leaving your family in ruin, and you would be a discarded woman whom no man would ever consider marrying,” Christina explained. “I cannot caution you enough to stop your games and accept your lot. The Marquess may be giving you some leeway for now, but his patience will surely soon wear thin.”

  “And what of my patience?” Luci asked. “How can you suggest I debase myself to someone who hasn’t seen fit to speak more than five minutes in my presence at a time? Now, the darling Marquess knew what he was getting into when he first proposed marriage. He bought me outright and has the receipt, I’m sure of it. My obligation to be grateful and kind was not part of the bill.”

  The sound of a man clearing his throat made both Luci and Christina jump. Once again, the Marquess had come upon Luci without it being known, and she was even angrier than before.

  “Do you make it a habit to eavesdrop on others’ private discussions?” Luci demanded. “Or merely when it affords you the chance to enter a lady’s chambers unannounced?”

  “I’m not accustomed to waiting for a servant to announce my presence in my own house,” he explained bitterly. “I’ve come to see why you’ve refused to dine with me this evening.”

  “I wasn’t aware I’d been invited to dine with you… tonight or any other night, for that matter,” Luci answered haughtily. “Speaking of being accustomed, I’m not accustomed to dining in this house with anyone other than my lady’s maid to keep me company, and I cannot help but acknowledge that is entirely your fault.”

  Lord Ambergrave was quiet, mulling over Luci’s accusation. Finally, after a silent, weighty pause, he nodded thoughtfully.

  “I see the issue. Luci Cross, Marchioness of Ambergrave, would you dine with me this evening?” he asked.

  Luci looked to Christina, shocked by the formal nature of the request. Her governess looked down, and Luci knew what she seemed to be thinking. After all, Christina should not even be present for a disagreement such as this, and certainly should not be weighing in with her opinion.

  “Yes, I will,” Luci finally answered. Her face flamed with a mixture of reluctance and shame at being so easily persuaded, taken in by the handsome gentleman’s first show of kindness, mocking though it seemed to be.

  “Very good. I shall see you then.” Lord Ambergrave left the room, leaving Luci and Christina to stare at the emptiness where he’d stood only a moment before.

  By eight o’clock, Luci was bathed, dressed, and her hair fashionably styled, effort that she herself had not seen the need for though Christina had insisted. The governess saw her down the wide staircase and to the door of the dining room, and Luci couldn’t help but wonder if Christina was only concerned she might flee instead of dining with Lord Ambergrave.

  “Good evening, My Lady,” Derwall said, greeting her in the empty room. “The Marquess has been detained, but asks that you sit and begin your meal.”

  “Of course he has,” Luci answered sourly. “Where am I to sit? Shall I take a different chair during each course and thus pretend there are other guests here to amuse and entertain?”

  Derwall looked away briefly, and Luci immediately felt regret for making him feel awkward. She smiled at him and added, “I’m only having fun, Derwall. I shall sit anywhere.”

  “Very good, My Lady,” he answered, but his earlier cheerfulness was dampened a bit.

  “Christi
na is right,” Luci thought as Derwall held her chair for her and signaled for a footman to fill her glass. “I’m not only miserable myself, but now I’m infecting others with the poison that is my broken heart.”

  Luci determined at that moment to at least attempt a pleasant demeanor. After all, she had agreed, just as Christina had said. And there were far worse marriages than her own, at least according to the gossip that she’d learned over the years. Some young brides were wed to men vastly above their station and as such were never accepted in the family. Others were the second or even third wife of a widower, and his children—and therefore, rightful heirs, no matter how many children she may have—would stand to inherit everything and leave hers to beg for the scraps.

  Worse, though, were the whispered conversations, hidden well behind the participants’ fans, that told of a certain cruelty that made Luci feel faint only from hearing of it. Some husbands spoke harshly, denied their wives all contact with their families, forbade old friends from visiting the house, and much, much worse.