Ambersley (Lords of London)

by Amy Atwell

  The moment he entered the ballroom, electricity sparked the air, and a murmur rippled through the guests. Even Johanna was impressed by his appearance, and she realized she’d never seen him dressed so formally. Derek had chosen unadorned black, relieved only by the snowy folds of his neck cloth and shirt. The striking simplicity put the more colorful combinations of the dandies to shame. His commanding height, broad shoulders and well-muscled leg added to his imposing entrance.

  Beside Johanna, a young lady said on a sigh, “Lord Ambersley has arrived.”

  Johanna blinked at the worshipful tone. He was, after all, the same Derek she’d always known. They were old friends.

  But when he caught her eye from across the room, her composure deserted her. The ballroom suddenly felt as confining as her stays, and she longed to be outdoors wearing her familiar breeches. Then she might have been able to breathe. Derek nodded politely to her, then returned to his conversation with Lady Sedgefield.

  Johanna’s face heated. Apparently she wasn’t as important as her hostess. She tried to bury her disappointment.

  “Please, don’t develop that same bored look everyone else wears at these events.”

  The male voice made Johanna turn to see the handsome man from dinner. This close, his resemblance to Derek was more pronounced, except his nearly black hair curled more, his blue eyes were flecked with silver, and his jaw formed a sharper angle. His lips twisted into a wry smile as she studied him.

  She dipped a curtsey, unsure how to proceed when they hadn’t been properly introduced.

  He bowed, revealing broad shoulders beneath his dark green coat trimmed in black. With his black satin breeches and buckled dancing shoes, he cut a very dashing figure.

  “St. John Trevarthan, Marquess of Worthing, since we’ve no one to make the introductions,” he said. Even his voice reminded her of Derek’s rich timbre. “My eldest sister is the lady of the house.”

  “Johanna—”

  “Vaughan, yes. I heard tell Derek uncovered the heiress.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. “Do you know Lord Ambersley?”

  “Went to school together—as close as brothers, you might say. Come, let us dance.”

  Across the room, Lady Sedgefield handed Derek a glass of champagne. “Your ward does Elizabeth Coatsworth justice. She has very pretty manners.”

  He sipped his drink. “Yes, I’m told she’s always been an obedient little thing,” he lied smoothly.

  “I see Worthing’s taken an interest. High time my brother was married.” She smiled blandly at him.

  Recognizing the man leading his ward onto the floor, Derek checked his temper and smiled back. Fortunately, the music ended as Johanna and Worthing joined the group of dancers on the floor. Swift action was imperative.

  “I wonder, Imogene, if you had planned to include any waltzing this evening?”

  Lady Sedgefield eyed him shrewdly. “You know many still consider it a wicked dance. Whatever would Sally Jersey think if I allowed waltzing at my party?”

  “You shock me,” he said with well-feigned surprise. “I never dreamed you would worry yourself over Sally Jersey’s approval, especially when she’s not here. It’s Christmas, and we’re all among friends. Let the young misses skip the waltz to protect their reputations, but don’t deny us.” He raised her hand and kissed it.

  An accomplished flirt herself, Lady Sedgefield wasn’t immune to his persuasiveness. She motioned to the orchestra leader, and as the strains of a waltz sang out on violins, Derek led her to the floor.

  “And will we find you waltzing at Almack’s this season, my lord?” she asked as he swung her into the three-quarter rhythm.

  “Perhaps, if I can be sure my ward won’t disgrace me.”

  As the music started, Johanna watched many young ladies desert the floor. She stepped to the side, clearing the way for couples to whirl past, young bucks and matrons whose reputation couldn’t be spoiled by so scandalous a dance. Johanna looked on in envy.

  Beside her, Lord Worthing’s eyes narrowed. “Lady Johanna, I regret we made so brief an acquaintance.”

  “Must you leave so soon?” she asked.

  “No, but unless I mistake, you’re about to be claimed for this dance.”

  “No,” she said with disappointment. “For Aunt Bess expressly forbade me to waltz tonight.”

  “I somehow think he’ll override her very proper directive.” He bowed again to her. “It was a pleasure.”

  She’d barely curtseyed to him when Derek and Lady Sedgefield drew to a halt before them.

  “Come dance with me, St. John,” the lady said.

  Lord Worthing raised a brow at Johanna. “Your servant, my lady.” He took his sister by the hand and whisked her away among the other couples.

  To Johanna’s surprise, Derek held out his hand to her.

  “I’m not supposed to—” she began.

  “I’ll bear Aunt Bess’s ire,” Derek said as he beckoned. “Come, it’s best we talk.”

  Doubts fled when his fingers clasped hers, and elation consumed her as she soared through the dance in his arms. His hand warmed her waist, and his face hovered inches above hers. Her eyes roved over the features she had long since memorized and missed so much.

  He tilted his head to study her. “I don’t believe pink is your color.”

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  “No. Stay away from Lord Worthing.”

  Her radiance fizzled. “Damn you,” she breathed.

  “Don’t swear at me, young lady.” Derek pinched the small of her back. He glanced around, but the other couples appeared oblivious to their conversation. His lips twisted into a fake smile. “Pretend you’re enjoying yourself,” he ordered.

  With her newfound knowledge in etiquette, Johanna pinned a tight smile in place.

  “Where did you learn such language?” He would have used the same polite, disinterested tone to ask about the weather.

  “From you, of course.” She was equally polite. “You taught me to swear, you taught me to ride, you taught me to fence and fight. You taught me everything so one day I could be a gentleman and make you proud.” She batted her eyes at him.

  Derek’s forced smile turned to a genuine grin. “Instead, most of what I taught you was useless.”

  “Oh, not at all. You taught me ladies are senseless creatures with no thought in their heads beyond making an advantageous marriage. And you were absolutely right.” There was no hiding the disillusionment in her voice.

  Derek frowned. “Men of fashion are little better, wanting only to win the prize of a beauteous or rich wife.”

  “How very true.”

  “Have you been misused tonight?” Though his tone was light, his eyes narrowed with concern that somewhere in the place was a person who had injured her feelings. The desire to protect her settled upon him warm as a familiar cloak.

  “Not at all. I’m the toast of the ball. I’m sure when everyone sees us together, they see your title and property dancing with a sack of money.” She laid aside her façade of gaiety. “Is this truly my lot in life? For if my childhood was intended to be a training ground for fish forks, dancing and idle chatter, I was much happier living with Tom and Martha.”

  “You mean the prioresses,” Derek corrected.

  Johanna quirked an eyebrow at him.

  Seeing that familiar mannerism, Derek added softly, “We’ve all gone to great lengths to make that story stick because we care about you.” He would go to any length to protect her from the mockery of the ton should they ever learn the truth of her highly improper upbringing. Indeed, he was still reeling from his first vision of Johanna as he’d entered tonight. He could barely assimilate the transformation Aunt Bess had wrought in turning the stable lad into this fairy princess. Johanna had looked at him from across the ballroom, and he’d had to quell the urge to rush to her side.

  Johanna stared at him as they continued to twirl around the floor with perfectly matched steps.
Finally, she managed to push words past the lump in her throat. “Do you? You haven’t written. I haven’t seen you in ages, nor heard one word. You arrived tonight and seemed more intent on making an impression with Lady Sedgefield than speaking with me. Do you know what I’ve been through these past few months? Have you any idea how much I’ve missed you?”

  Derek’s gut clenched as he recognized the hurt in her aqua eyes. The quivering of her chin parted her lips, making his arm tighten with the involuntary desire to pull her closer and taste her. With an effort, he recalled his duty as her guardian and went about the painful but necessary task of reminding her of her place.

  “Has it occurred to you that, supposedly, we’ve barely met? We’re practically strangers as far as Lady Sedgefield knows, and it’s important people never know how much time we’ve spent together.” He brought her to a stop as the music ended and added, as much for his benefit as hers, “A duke would never take an interest in his naïve ward. Now come, let us find Aunt Bess.”

  Johanna followed him mechanically from the floor, still smarting from his words. How foolish she’d been, thinking he could ever love her. He had little faith in women in general, and he clearly had no patience with her in her new guise.

  Derek escorted her toward a settee occupied by his aunt. As Johanna sank down next to the older woman, he wondered when she’d acquired that fluid grace of motion. He bowed and offered to fetch them some lemonade. Aunt Bess thanked him, but Johanna remained silent. Derek berated himself for destroying her pleasure as he crossed the room. But it was necessary. She shouldn’t be looking at me in that way. He recalled her smile, the way her eyes had lit as he’d held her during the dance. The way they’d lifted to him in unspoken offer—damn, she shouldn’t be looking at any man in such a way.

  When he returned with two glasses of lemonade, he found Aunt Bess sitting alone.

  “Johanna’s dancing with Harry.” She patted the seat beside her. “Don’t they look well together?”

  Derek felt a rush of emotion he didn’t care to name. He sat and sipped the noxious lemonade and never took his eyes from the beauty laughing with Harry while she danced.

  Chapter 13

  Ambersley, February 1815

  “My dear, don’t fidget so. With all your pent up energy, perhaps we should harness you to the coach.”

  Aunt Bess’s gentle admonishment checked Johanna’s drumming fingers. She pulled the lap rug higher and tried once more to retrieve the warmed brick with the toe of her kid boot.

  “Never mind, child. It’s grown cold by now. We’re nearly there.”

  Johanna’s gaze returned outside the window. Seeing the familiar roofs of Ambersham, she grew giddy with anticipation.

  She was finally coming home.

  Rory pulled the horses to a halt before the Hall, and he and Cushing climbed down from their perch. Derek and Paget greeted them from the flagway. “Did you meet any trouble?”

  Rory shook his head. “No, my lord. The weather held for us the whole way.” He cast his gaze to the fat clouds that promised snow yet to fall.

  Derek opened the coach door, and smiled inside. “Welcome to Ambersley, ladies.”

  Johanna forced herself to sit still as Derek handed his aunt down first. When he offered his hand again, Johanna took it deftly and hopped lightly to the ground, all the while drinking in the familiar sights of Ambersley. She longed to rush to Cushing and Rory and Paget, give them each a big hug in their turn and tell them what it meant to be home. But neither by word nor gesture did they betray an inkling of her true identity, and so she followed Derek and Aunt Bess in docile silence.

  “Ladies, I hope the journey didn’t prove too cold. I believe Mrs. North will have some hot tea ready. If you’re not too tired, Lady Johanna, Mrs. North can show you around the Hall.”

  Johanna quirked a brow. It had only been a four-hour coach ride from Bath—did he think she would swoon from her exertion? She held her tongue, for she knew Derek would be angry if she didn’t behave exactly as Lady Johanna who had never visited Ambersley before.

  Paget followed them in and took the ladies’ pelisses. Tea awaited them in the drawing room, along with a tray of Mrs. Chalmers’ scones with clotted cream and jam. Johanna felt a pang at the thought of baking day at Ambersley, and how as the gardener’s son, she’d been permitted to help. She longed to visit the kitchens. She leaned toward the fire to warm her chilly hands while Aunt Bess poured tea.

  “Did Harry travel to London as he planned?” Derek asked his aunt.

  “Yes. He was disappointed not to join us here, but he’ll see us in Town when we arrive for the Season. When duty calls, one must respond as he says. For myself, I still cannot imagine him working in the Foreign Office.” She handed Derek his cup.

  “Harry was made for the diplomatic corps. They do nothing but talk forever.”

  Johanna smiled from her position by the fireplace. She would miss Harry dreadfully, but knew he couldn’t forever hold her hand.

  She toured the Hall with Mrs. North and did her best to pretend she’d never seen it before. The housekeeper showed her the main floor, all the bedrooms and even the nursery and servants’ quarters. Viewing the nursery sent a shiver flashing up her spine. She recalled the night of the fire as a shadowy blur, but here stood a room with a tiny bed and walls of robin’s egg blue. Peering out the window, she recognized the view of the home wood her dreams had etched in her memory.

  Johanna requested to see the duke’s chamber, and to Mrs. North’s slack jaw, explained she wanted to see where her parents had died. Mrs. North agreed, and after assuring herself the duke wasn’t there, she let them in. Johanna breathed with relief when she saw no sign in here of the fiery night when she couldn’t wake her parents and had nearly suffocated herself. There were no ghosts here. Perhaps now the nightmares, which still visited her from time to time, would disappear completely.

  Her own room was a golden yellow, as if sunshine radiated from within. A rich Aubusson carpet and cherry furniture added elegance and comfort. Nancy had arrived and was busily hanging Johanna’s dresses in the armoire. She selected one of dark green wool with long fitted sleeves that gathered at the shoulder. The neckline scooped low across Johanna’s breasts, leaving her throat and breastbone bare to chilly drafts. Nancy supplied a crocheted shawl in a paler green for style and warmth.

  She arrived at the dining room to find Derek and Aunt Bess already there. The three sat at one end of the long table while Paget and Stokes served supper a la russe. Derek and Aunt Bess discussed Johanna’s presentation in April, whether she should keep a horse in Town for the Season and compared notes on all their friends and acquaintances. Johanna might have thought Derek was planning a military campaign, he looked so serious over his wine as he outlined for Aunt Bess the most advantageous people to know in London. They didn’t cut her out of the conversation, but Johanna had so little to add, she remained silent through most of the meal.

  Across the room, Paget waited by the sideboard for someone to need his service. She smiled at him, but he didn’t respond. When he cleared her plate from the first course, she thanked him, but he didn’t seem to hear. It became a contest to see if she could get the straight-faced butler to acknowledge her. She tried dropping her fork, but he replaced it wordlessly. She requested a second helping of the chicken fricassee, but he only nodded to Stokes who brought it to her. In a final gambit, she waited until Derek became engrossed in what Aunt Bess was saying to him, and she winked at Paget across the way. Surely he would recognize that little wink as something Johnny used to do.

  Aunt Bess rose from the table and suggested they go to the drawing room so the servants could clear the table. Johanna followed in frustration.

  Derek offered her a game of chess, but Johanna couldn’t concentrate on the moves and lost the first and subsequent game rather quickly. She’d returned home to Ambersley, just as she’d wished, only now she wanted a reunion with the familiar faces from her childhood: Cushing, Mrs. Chalmers
, Rory, Paget and the others. After losing the second game, she admitted she might be more tired than she had thought. Aunt Bess agreed it was time they were both abed and followed her upstairs.

  Nancy had already turned down the covers and lit the small lamp on the table. With a touch of envy, Johanna had granted the maid the next two days off to visit her family. She drew back the heavy drapes to watch snowflakes swirl in the darkness to the now-white ground. Johanna warmed the frosty window with her breath, and an idea formed while she traced designs with her fingertip. She wanted to see the staff, and there was no better time and place to find a group of them than in the kitchens after supper.