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

by Emma Linfield

  “I remember crossing over a quaint stone bridge upon my arrival here,” Luci said cheerfully as she and Jacques caught up to him. “Why don’t we ride down to the river?”

  “All right,” Lord Ambergrave replied, smiling genuinely.

  Interesting, she thought. Even the very thought of being away from here brightens him considerably. It’s no wonder he stays gone for so long, and for so often.

  They rode on towards the stream that ran through the property and Luci marveled at how it became a gentle brook in some places, a steadily moving river in others. Lord Ambergrave pointed out a number of notable features as they explored, including a falcon nest and a burrow that led to a rabbit’s nest he’d discovered some time ago.

  They stopped at the stream and unhitched the horses from the phaeton to let them drink. Luci led Jacques to a gentle section of the moving water and tied off his reins to a tree, then took off her own riding boots and stockings.

  “What are you doing?” Lord Ambergrave asked, staring at Luci.

  “I mean to wade in the brook,” she explained, as though her intentions were clear. “Did you never do this in all the time that you’ve lived here?”

  “No, I was never permitted,” the Marquess answered, averting his gaze while Luci lowered herself down the overgrown bank and into the refreshing water.

  “Why would anyone have prevented you?” Luci pondered aloud while testing the temperature of the water with the edge of her foot. It was frigidly cold, to say the least, but still felt refreshing after the discomfort of her riding boots on a warm day.

  “I don’t know, I never thought to question,” he replied, sounding rather perplexed. “Perhaps because my parents had no other heirs, I suppose?”

  “Yes, quite like mine, too. Only you had the good sense to be born a boy and spare them the worry of having to locate a suitable match for their useless daughter.” Luci laughed at her own silliness, and was pleased to see that Lord Ambergrave joined in. “In any event, there is no one to forbid you now. Why don’t you join me? The water is rather pleasant after you get used to the cold.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Wait, please do not tell me that in addition to shunning horse riding, you also do not swim?” Luci looked incredulous.

  “That is a brook, My Lady. It is hardly deep enough for swimming,” he pointed out.

  “Then all the more reason not to fear it. Join me, I insist,” she teased, gesturing to the wide stream.

  “And I shall insist that I do not,” Lord Ambergrave replied sternly.

  Not to be dissuaded from enjoying the afternoon, Luci walked out a ways towards the middle of the brook where the weak current felt pleasant rushing past. Lord Ambergrave called out to her, but it was too late. The flat rock she’d perched on rolled beneath her foot, pitching her to her side in the shallow water.

  “Luci,” the Marquess cried out before rushing into the stream, ignoring his attire. He hurried to her side and plucked her from the water effortlessly, as though she were a child’s poppet. Setting her on the bank, the Marquess knelt at her feet to inspect them for harm.

  “Are you injured?” he asked, an obvious note of concern in his voice.

  Luci couldn’t help but smile. “It does pain me where I turned it, but it’s nothing. My pride is far more wounded than my foot, I can assure you. I must look like a drowned cat.”

  “No, you’re as lovely as ever,” Lord Ambergrave assured her without looking up. Luci smiled at the odd compliment. He pressed his warm fingers to her ankle and asked, “Does it hurt here? Or here?”

  Luci winced and gasped sharply at the place where his hands pressed last. “Oh, that hurt a good bit. But I know from falling off my horse more times than I care to admit that it is not serious.”

  “Still, we should get you back to the house and let Mrs. Cushings tend to you. You should take the phaeton, and with Jacques’ permission, I shall ride him back,” the Marquess said, still frowning with worry.

  “But I thought you did not ride, My Lord,” Luci reminded him. The Marquess only shook his head.

  “Desperate situations must make brave men of us all. Come, let me help you.”

  His face was still grim as he lifted Luci to her feet, ignoring the soaked fabric of her clothes and politely averting his eyes from where the thin material clung to her form. He kept an arm around her waist as he led her to the vehicle, only letting go once she was seated and he set about hitching the horses once again.

  Admittedly, it was a feeling that Luci liked very much.

  Luci held the reins of the phaeton while Lord Ambergrave shed his wet leather shoes and stockings, placing them in the rear of the vehicle to be seen to at the house. When he led Jacques around and spoke softly to the creature, Luci’s heart thudded softly. Any man who spoke to tenderly to an animal had a very sensitive disposition.

  “My Lord! Your—” she called out in surprise as Lord Ambergrave put his foot in the stirrup and pulled himself up. But she stopped herself, remembering too late that he did not want anyone to know.

  “What?” he asked, looking down at the ground from his perch in the saddle.

  “No, it was nothing,” Luci said, smiling innocently. “I thought I saw something, but I was mistaken. I’ve suddenly taken quite a chill from these wet clothes, I think we should hurry.”

  Lord Ambergrave looked at her for a long moment, and Luci feared he did not believe her. Finally, he nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.

  As she flicked the reins and called out softly to the team, Luci’s mind churned. It was exactly as Christina had said, the Marquess was badly burned. The evidence of his terrible injury was there on his leg when he climbed into the saddle. She was disturbed not by any sort of disfiguration, but that he was so clearly ashamed of it.

  Looking to her right to where Lord Ambergrave and Jacques kept pace with her, she saw a grimace of discomfort on the Marquess’ face but otherwise no sign that he was not a confident, capable rider. Was it only this old injury, this burn from a terrible ordeal, that kept him from enjoying outdoor pursuits? Luci was determined to know more.

  Chapter 12

  After leaving Mrs. Cushings and Christina to tend to Lady Ambergrave, Gideon headed to the stables to see to his latest arrivals. Only one had not thrived since the move, so he stopped in there first to pay the beautiful mare some attention. The magnificent creature looked rather forlorn, standing all alone in her stall in the newly finished stables.

  “This isn’t where you want to be, is it, girl?” Gideon asked softly, stroking her flank. “But don’t fret, this will feel like home in no time.”

  Gideon was suddenly struck by how this exact thing was happening to his new bride. Taken from her home fairly against her will and brought to this new place where she knew almost no one, only to be left on her own while he saw to his business affairs. Unlike this animal, though, he could not argue that Lady Ambergrave had not made an effort to be amenable.

  “I shall make it up to her,” he told himself as he continued to brush the sad mare. “Once I return from this excursion, I will not be gone again for some time. At the very least, I can arrange for her to go on a holiday or visit friends while I’m away.”

  If only his business affairs didn’t require so much of his attention, he realized angrily. It had been one thing when he had thrown himself into his work in an effort to forget Ashworth Hall and all that had happened here. He had practically lived in his offices abroad, sometimes even staying there for days while handling some deal or another. His father had left their family’s dealings in very good shape, and Gideon had been determined to keep it from falling into ruin.

  Over these past few years, his fortunes had eclipsed even what his father had left behind. It was this singular focus that made it possible.

  But now with his return and his fervent desire to resume his place in the peerage, Gideon struggled to manage his business from Ashworth. He saw no other way to manage than to make frequent, lengthy
journeys abroad.

  “My Lord,” the stablemaster said suddenly, unaware that the Marquess had come in, “my apologies, I did not know you were still here. Did you wish to see a particular horse?”

  “No, no. It’s quite all right. I was supposed to have left this morning but was delayed,” Gideon explained. “I just thought I would see how this one is getting on in her new home.”

  “I’m afraid the news is rather grim, My Lord. She does not take her full meals yet, though we are encouraged that she still drinks plenty of water,” the man explained, recounting other pertinent facts about the mare.

  Gideon only half-listened, still reeling from the juxtaposition of this unhappy horse and his reluctant bride. What had she said about being in love with another man, one who had intended to seek her hand? Gideon could kick himself for his callousness.

  He had to find a way to make it up to her, though he barely knew her well enough to think of how.

  “Feeling better, is it?” Christina asked when she entered Luci’s room and saw her walking tenderly.

  “Much better, thanks. The bandaging hurts a bit more than the injury itself, I think,” Luci answered. “But Christina, come sit with me. I want to know more about what you learned from the servants.”

  Christina put down the gown she’d carried up and sat in the chair opposite the one Luci took. She waited, an expectant expression on her face, while Luci thought of how to pose a question to her.

  “I do not wish to tell Lord Ambergrave’s personal matters, but there are some odd things that I wanted to understand better,” she began. “For instance, he told me he does not ride horses.”

  “Well, not all men are as avid about outdoors pursuits, you know,” Christina said, smiling despite the worried frown on Luci’s face. “Why, your father would never step foot out of the house if not for your mother’s own keen interest in sporting and nature.”

  “I know,” Luci said, waving off the comment lightly. “I only found it odd that he would put so much effort and a lot of funds into rebuilding a stable, hiring a stablemaster and hands, and bringing horses from Egypt only to never ride them.”

  “That is odd, I must admit,” the governess agreed, “though perhaps he intends to make his fortune in breeding. It’s quite a respectable hobby interest in members of his class.”

  “True,” Luci replied, but she was soon lost in thought again. “But today, when we went riding, I had to remind him of the stream that runs a course through the fields.”

  “Oh? Is that important somehow?”

  “I wouldn’t think so myself, except that there’s a lovely bridge over it,” Luci explained, her face vacant again. Slowly, she added, “I had to tell him of the bridge. It was as though he had no idea what I was talking about.”

  “That is rather strange to not know that you possess a waterway of such size,” Christina agreed lightly. “Though I’m sure it is only because he has spent so much time away and is only now returned. The stream may have been smaller in his youth, or its course may not have been so pronounced as it is now.”

  “That’s true, I suppose,” Luci said. She was silent for a minute or two, long enough that Christina might have wondered if her fears were allayed were it not for the concerned look she still wore.

  “What else is it?” Christina pressed, more worried now. “I know that look, you’re thinking on something that weighs on you heavily.”

  “I am, but I want to be careful of Lord Ambergrave’s privacy.” Luci looked down again, feeling suddenly somewhat ashamed at sharing such an intimate detail. “When Lord Ambergrave helped me up the bank today, I chanced to see that his leg is badly scarred.”

  “Scarred, you say? As in, there may be a chance he was injured in battle?” Christina asked. “I don’t remember anyone mentioning whether he served in war time.”

  “No, I think it was… I think he was burned, as you said once before,” Luci corrected, “but I cannot understand why he seemed so embarrassed of it.”

  “Well, despite our reputations as the creatures who give great importance to fancy ribbons and fashions, it is the men who can be rather vain about their appearance,” the governess answered. “He is probably very aware of its appearance and doesn’t wish to be stared at. He may simply want to avoid others’ pity.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Luci agreed, though her voice was far from acquiescing. “It was just so odd that he went to such lengths to hide it. He even climbed into Jacques saddle from the wrong side, which I now think was his attempt at keeping me from seeing his old injury.”

  “You know, I am thinking of something that is rather endearing to Lord Ambergrave, now that you’ve brought this up.” Christina leaned closer and said, “If he is as sensitive about the appearance of this scar as you say, it might explain why he was interested in marrying a young lady who did not know of his injury.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if he is so vain about it, maybe he thought no lady would have him if she knew about the scars. You did say they were rather pronounced, didn’t you?” When Luci nodded, Christina continued. “It might give you some measure of sympathy for the man if you understand that he is terribly ashamed of his appearance.”

  “Why, yes. That is true,” Luci said, brightening somewhat. “While it still grieves me to marry a stranger when I had already set my heart upon another, I think I can accept that Lord Ambergrave may have sought some wife who wouldn’t have known about his leg and rejected him. The poor man!”

  “What do you mean?” Christina asked.

  “Only this—the scar is… why, it’s nothing!” Luci said. “I admit I only caught a glimpse, but it is certainly not so disfiguring as he must believe it to be. Imagine spending years thinking that you were terrible to look at, when in truth, it’s nothing like that at all.”

  “Ah yes, but remember, men’s vanity is only superseded by their need to look strong and vigorous,” the governess instructed. “So long as they think themselves an invalid—or think that others believe it of them—then it will be a constant worry.”

  “Christina, I must go speak with him,” Luci said, standing up slowly and testing the weight on her foot. She dabbed at the moisture in her eyes with her handkerchief, but smiled. “He was so very kind today, and our ride was actually… pleasant. If he is to be off once again tomorrow, I want him to know that I enjoyed our time today and am grateful for it. Perhaps I’ll ask if he’ll have tea with me today.”

  “That’s a good girl,” her governess said approvingly. “Take your time freshening up, I’ll see if I can discover where he is.”

  Luci got ready and took her time heading down the stairs and outside. The vast courtyard behind the house was something of a challenge due to the uneven cobblestones that swirled in wide arching circles, but she took her time and tread carefully. She did not know where to look for Lord Ambergrave, but headed in the direction of voices near the hothouse.

  “You are too funny, sir,” a high voice called out. This was followed by a man’s laughter and a higher shriek of surprise.

  Luci frowned. Someone was here, obviously someone engaged in some sort of game or jest.

  “I shall show you what’s funny,” the Marquess called out playfully, and Luci instantly froze. She felt as though she were intruding, eavesdropping on a moment that was not meant for her.

  Who’s there with him? Luci wondered, a strange feeling creeping up the back of her neck.

  Instantly, her heart was torn. The mysterious, aloof noble who was so reserved with her quite obviously was capable of playful frolicking, if the continued peals of laughter were any indication. Yet he was unable to produce anything more joyful than a pleasant smile whenever she was around. Though they were still little more than strangers, it stung to know that it was only she who caused him to be so withdrawn.

  A sudden flash of movement made Luci jump back, secure in her hiding place. The Marquess and this other person were even closer now, close enough that s
he sought to listen and discover who this person was who brought out such a lively nature in her husband. Could it be this mistress that Lord Ambergrave had callously taunted her with before?

  And what would you even think to say to her? Would you dare bring shame upon yourself by acknowledging her? But would you bear this great pain in silence and pretend that all is well?

  As she leaned around the corner to look more closely, Luci was struck by what she saw. This other person turned out to be nothing but a young lad, perhaps ten or eleven years old. He took turns throwing a ball to the Marquess, who caught it deftly every time and threw it back.