Ambersley (Lords of London)

by Amy Atwell

  “Very little. Cushing came to me the other night to tell me Johnny’s secret.” Harry recounted what he’d learned of Johnny’s past, her amnesia, how Cushing had learned her identity and his deathbed promise to Tom to look after her.

  Listening through it all, Derek stared into the fire, transfixed by this stunning turn of events. For years, he’d accepted that Amber Vaughan was dead. Even in his fury these past days, he’d been convinced Johnny was no more than the late duke’s love child. Instead of toiling her childhood away, she should have had an army of servants waiting upon her. He could return her money—even if it crippled him financially, he would do that immediately—but there was no way to make amends for the years she’d lost nor the indignities she’d suffered.

  Finally, he sat up and met Harry’s eyes. “How long has she known?”

  “Her memory came back to her the day she pulled you from the stable fire.”

  Derek tensed, recalling that day with vivid clarity. She’d lived in his care for three years knowing he’d had her declared dead so he could refurbish Ambersley Hall with her fortune. Why would an heiress never have given him any sign she was anything more than a gardener’s apprentice? What had she hoped to achieve?

  Despite his doubts, the next step was clear. “We must lay this information before Minton and see what is to be done.”

  “Agreed.” Harry replied. “But first, I need your help. I’m worried about Johnny. The wound is healing, but she remains feverish. Mother’s physician thinks she may continue to decline.”

  “And of what help can I be?”

  Harry rose. Turning his back to the fire, he faced Derek. “The last time she saw you, you tried to kill her in a duel. Guilt preys upon her—she’s convinced you want her dead.”

  Derek snorted into his glass. “On that day, I did.”

  “But knowing what you know now, I thought if you could tell her you forgive her—”

  “No!” Slamming his glass down, Derek stood. Outrage drove him to pace the room. “I will do right by her. Ha! I tried to do right by that boy, and he—hell, she betrayed me. Now you tell me she knew the truth but willfully lied about everything.”

  “Not everything. She’s always admired and trusted you—”

  A dark laugh erupted from Derek. “Trust me? If she’d done so, she would have admitted her secret long ago. Now she’s experiencing a little guilt over her masquerade, and you rush here to convince me she’s dying. Tell her she need never see me again and that I’ll restore her fortune to her forthwith. You’ll see how quickly she recovers.” His fury spent, he stopped at the window to look out over the garden.

  Silence hung in the room until Harry stalked up behind him. “You have little reason to fault her for her honesty. You, who prize honesty so highly—what happened when Curtis and your precious Olivia accused Johnny? Did you give her a chance to defend herself against their allegations? No, you made her defend herself against your wrath.”

  Derek winced. His cousin rarely unleashed his temper.

  Harry barely paused to draw breath. “The truth isn’t always plain to see, especially when you wallow in self-pity. After today, I don’t think you’re fit to black Johnny’s boots, but you’re my cousin, and I feel it incumbent to point out that if anything happens to her, you’re going to have a hell of a time explaining it to Minton.” Though calmer, his tone still held a vicious bite. “I’ve asked Rory for a change of horses. Will you come with me or no?”

  Derek continued to stare out the window.

  His cousin’s tone softened. “Johnny only lied about being a boy. Other than that, she’s the same person she’s always been. When she realized I knew her true identity, she begged me not to tell you. Ever. She doesn’t care about money—she cares about you. She said she was afraid she’d hurt you when you discovered she was a girl. Pity to see her waste her heart.” Harry’s boots clicked toward the door but paused on the threshold. “You have such a capacity to give, Derek, it baffles me that you don’t care.” He left with a slam.

  Dampness had collected on the window, and Derek traced the moisture with his forefinger while the barbs of Harry’s words continued to prick his skin. They served as a painful reminder of his last words with Reginald Vaughan. Words that had left much more unsaid than said. Words that had pushed him from his home and denied him the chance to ever understand the man’s reasons for continuing to treat Derek as his firstborn son. He’d nearly committed a similar mistake with Johnny.

  Amber Johanna Vaughan. His orphaned seventh cousin. He and Minton were co-executors of her fortune. Like it or not, he’d never be rid of her. There was nothing for it but to face her.

  “Damn,” muttered Derek as he leaned his head against the pane. But somewhere deep within his chest, that knot—which a more emotional man might have termed heartache—slowly began to uncoil.

  With a soft knock, Paget entered the study. “May I get you anything, my lord?” he asked tentatively.

  Derek drew himself upright and scrubbed his stubbled chin as he turned to the butler. “Yes, Paget. I want a bath taken up to my room. Send someone to air this place out.” He strode to the door with purpose. “And tell Rory I’ll need a coach and pair.”

  Paget’s shoulders relaxed, and he bustled from the room to do the duke’s bidding.

  Book 2

  Johanna

  Chapter 12

  Derek arrived in Bath after nightfall.

  His widowed aunt, Elizabeth Coatsworth, her once blonde hair turning silver at the temples, hugged him warmly and welcomed him without reproach. Seeing her silent smile, Derek recalled the gauche youth he’d been. He searched for words to explain away this transgression.

  “I’m sorry to arrive so late, Aunt Bess.”

  She clucked her tongue. “You should have come with Harry, but no matter. We’re glad you’re here.” She directed her footman to carry his trunk up the stairs.

  Derek removed his gloves. “Where is Harry?”

  “He’s gone to play cards with some friends. He was in a foul mood when he returned this evening, and I suggested he take himself out.”

  “I’m sorry,” Derek repeated. He knew only too well why Harry’s temper had been frayed.

  Roughly half his size, Aunt Bess eyed him up and down. “I know you are. You’ll have to sleep in the back bedroom. I gave your room to Johanna.” She waited while Derek removed his cloak. “Would you like to see her?”

  Surprised, Derek stalled. “It’s late. Surely she’s asleep by now.”

  Aunt Bess shook her head.

  “I hear she hasn’t been well. I can wait until morning.”

  She handed him a candle. “Once she learned Harry went to Ambersley today, she refused to eat supper. You may be able to wait until morning, but she cannot. Go to her.” She steered him toward the staircase.

  Derek climbed the steps still unsure what to say. Outside the door of her chamber, he stopped and listened. No sound issued forth, but light spilled from under the door. If she were asleep, he should at least snuff her candle. He opened the door quietly and peered inside.

  The four-poster bed was awash with candle glow. Propped against a mountain of pillows, she watched him as if he were a ghost. “Johnny.” He entered the room and closed the door behind him.

  She eyed him warily while he leaned against the portal and searched for some hint of the boy he’d known. He was struck again by her delicacy, this frail looking creature with the huge eyes. Seeing her now, he couldn’t believe he’d been deceived for so long. Embarrassment swamped him as he recalled the many intimate discussions he’d shared with Johnny during the past few years. Certainly their discussions were not the sort a young girl should have heard. With her pale face, large eyes, and the brave blue ribbon tied in her short brown curls, she should barely be out of the schoolroom. Instead, he’d almost killed her.

  She met his eyes for only a moment before her gaze skittered away to a far corner.

  He maintained his distance and tried to
think of something to say. “Aunt Bess called you Johanna.”

  “I cannot answer to the name Amber. It’s not me,” Johanna replied. Even her voice sounded different. Johnny’s voice had always seemed high-pitched for a boy, but as a girl, her words resonated in a vibrant alto.

  “She said you didn’t eat supper.” Derek stepped closer.

  Johanna shrank against her pillows. “I wasn’t hungry.” She looked like a cornered rabbit hiding in the snowy white bedcovers. What, did she think he still meant to murder her?

  “I see.” Derek dragged a Chippendale chair next to the bed. He didn’t want to tower over her—she looked scared to death already—and he shouldn’t sit on the bed with her. Hell, he shouldn’t even be in her room alone. What was Aunt Bess thinking, condoning such conduct? If Harry came home, he’d call Derek out.

  Derek eased onto the chair, and looked over Johanna again. Her eyes were as wide as the Indian Ocean, and almost the same shade of aqua. Her lower lip appeared fuller, or maybe her chin’s quivering made it appear so. Her cheekbones were thin and high, and dark circles wallowed beneath her eyes. No wonder Harry had been worried about her. She looked like hell. “John— I mean Ambe—, Johan— oh, damn...” he finally muttered.

  The corners of Johanna’s mouth twitched but failed to smile.

  Derek resorted to calling her what he’d always called her. “Johnny, I came here because you and I have unfinished business.”

  Johanna swallowed hard and nodded. Even though the fury had left his eyes, she was scared to trust him. When he’d first appeared, his face wrenchingly handsome, her heart had leapt with hope, but now she had to make amends.

  Again she heard those last words he’d spoken—Damn all women for the liars they are. How he must hate her. Here was the man she’d wanted only to please since they’d first met nearly ten years ago. Now they were strangers. If only he knew she’d maintained the deception because she’d loved him so.

  As he seemed to be waiting, she tried to muster her apology. “My lord, if you knew how sorry I am about…everything,” she finished lamely. “I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me.” She couldn’t meet his eyes.

  His back stiffened in the chair. “Forgive you? Is that what you thought—that I came all this way at this hour of night to forgive you?”

  Johanna bit her lip. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry no matter how he hated her.

  He stood and ran one hand along the back of his neck. “Johnny, I came here tonight to beg you to forgive me.”

  She lifted her eyes to study him. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  “I tried to kill you.” Bitterness, not anger, tinged his voice.

  “You had your reasons.”

  “Certainly, I had reason—because I refused to give you a chance to explain. You’d been my friend for years, and I refused to consider you might be innocent.”

  “But I wasn’t. I’d lied to you from the first day we met. You always told me how horrible women were. I wanted to be a better person—to be like you—but every day I knew I was lying to you. I prayed every night you would never discover the truth about me.”

  A pang of guilt struck Derek as she tried to accept the blame for his actions. He knew he’d been free with his opinion about women around Johnny, but he’d never guessed how much the boy had taken to heart.

  “Harry tells me you had no memory of who you were until a few years ago. I’m not saying what you did was right, but I understand why you did it.”

  Johanna sat upright against the plump pillows. “And I understand why you forced the duel upon me. You were defending Olivia’s honor.”

  Separated by scant feet, their eyes met. In unison, they both said, “I’m sorry.”

  Johanna smiled first, and it brought an answering grin from Derek.

  “That’s my girl.”

  Johanna’s heart bloomed with hope. He wouldn’t cast her off completely.

  “Let us start anew.” He offered his hand, palm up. “Lady Johanna, I am your cousin, Derek.” He faltered at the end, remembering he wasn’t a Vaughan.

  But Johanna never hesitated. She laid her hand, small and trusting into his. “Your Grace—”

  “Tut-tut,” Derek corrected lightly. “You must call me Derek now.”

  She drew a breath. “Thank you, Derek.” To her amazement, he raised her fingers and bent his head to kiss her hand. Her heart pounded as she watched the play of candlelight against his dark hair. Lifting his head, his blue eyes captured her and stole her breath.

  “Get some sleep now, little one.” He smiled kindly before he turned to leave.

  “Will you still be here in the morning?”

  “Yes, if only to make sure you eat something.” The door clicked quietly after he exited.

  Johanna blew out the candle. Settling her head on the pillow, she watched a moonbeam slipping in through the window. She recalled how Derek had taken her hand, the warmth of his fingers closing around hers, the ticklish brushing of his lips across her skin. She could never have imagined such a thing. Did she dare risk loving him in truth?

  She nestled her head into the fluffy cloud of her pillows and fell asleep with a smile.

  ~

  The transformation from gardener’s son to heiress began the next morning and proceeded non-stop until Johanna’s head spun. Two days after Derek’s arrival, she descended the stairs for breakfast in the first dress she remembered donning. The store-bought creation of pale green muslin fit well and the matching slippers were more comfortable than her boots. Still, Johanna felt naked revealing so much of her unbound bosom and with the skirt billowing around her legs, bare but for sheer stockings. Aunt Bess nodded approval, and Harry drew out her chair for her.

  Derek stood across the table, shock so clearly painted on his face, Johanna didn’t know whether to laugh or retreat to her room. He finally acknowledged her after everyone was seated. “You must excuse my surprise, Johanna. It never occurred to me that you would be beautiful.” The hint of his smile made her pulse trip.

  Aunt Bess covered her eyes at his words.

  Harry laughed. “Now there’s a left-handed compliment.”

  But Johanna didn’t mind.

  The Coatsworths were generous and affectionate, but the highlight of her days was any moment when she came across Derek. Constantly chaperoned, she missed the freedom she’d enjoyed at Ambersley and the times she’d spent alone in deep conversation with him. Now they were considered social equals, yet she had less access to him, which made no sense to her. But then, her whole life had changed.

  For all her petite size and frail appearance, Aunt Bess—Harry’s mother insisted Johanna call her this, as everyone needed family, she said—had a will as strong as Martha’s had ever been. Other than Lady Vaughan, Aunt Bess was the first lady of quality with whom Johanna had ever had contact. She was impressed by the effortless good breeding and knew Paget would approve. Johanna determined to emulate her, for she saw this as a way of earning Derek’s favor. Thus, she willingly partook of Aunt Bess’s lessons on deportment and listened in rapt silence whenever the older woman told her stories of the ton.

  When Bath’s top dressmaker arrived at the house to measure her and pore over sketches for a proposed wardrobe, Johanna grew nervous at the sheer number of things Aunt Bess ordered.

  Aunt Bess silenced her. “Nonsense, child. Derek insists that you be outfitted as your station demands.”

  “But surely I don’t need all of this.” Johanna pointed to the pile of sketches they’d selected. I couldn’t wear this many clothes in a year.”

  “My dear, during a Season in London, you could wear everything we’ve ordered in a week.”

  Johanna tried not to gape, and from then on, she kept her doubts to herself.

  October was on the horizon when Derek announced he’d be traveling to London and then returning to Ambersley. They were enjoying the end of a quiet supper, and Harry expounded for the ladies’ benefit.

  “Derek�
��s already written Minton about Johnny’s true identity. Now they must take the evidence before a magistrate and have you declared alive again.” He winked at Johanna.

  Aunt Bess paused with a spoonful of trifle in midair. “Derek, you’re welcome to return here and stay as long as you like.”

  “Thank you, but I’ve missed much of the harvest as it is. Besides, my business with Minton will result in a significant change in my finances. I must speak with Broadmoor about the impact it will have on the running of Ambersley.” Derek didn’t mention that telling the staff to economize would be easier than explaining how he’d suddenly found the young woman who should have been their mistress these past dozen years. “When I arrive home, I’ll ask Mrs. North to select a suitable girl to act as Johanna’s personal maid and send her here.”