Ambersley (Lords of London)

by Amy Atwell

  Chapter 15

  London, May 1815

  The Ambersley ball was accounted a masterful success, and Olivia recognized as one of the belles of the season. But Harry’s prediction proved most accurate: the ton laid themselves at Johanna’s feet. Calling cards arrived at Portman Square in such volume that Taft had to replace the small salver with a delicate silver basket. Johanna and the Coatsworths were included on every hostess’s list for suppers, breakfasts, balls, musical evenings and more.

  A month after her London debut, Johanna ransacked her wardrobe for something to wear to that night’s round of parties.

  Aunt Bess smiled at her vexation as she discarded dress after dress as having been worn too recently. “Now do you understand why we purchased so many things?”

  Johanna shook her head. “It’s a ridiculous waste, but I agree it will never do to wear the same dress twice in one week.” Johanna finally settled on a peach gown that complimented the chestnut streaks in her brown hair. After visiting three parties, she calculated over seven hundred people would see this dress. With a sigh, she admitted she would need to suffer another trip to the dressmaker.

  As little interest as she had in the endless merrymaking, Johanna was determined to impress Society for Aunt Bess’s sake. And so she suffered the tedium of dances, courteous introductions, endless glasses of lemonade and determined to have a good time. Were Harry present, this was easy. If he had other plans for the evening, Johanna donned a mask of vivacity and set forth with Aunt Bess. She wore the mask well, though it slipped a bit each time she caught Derek with Charis Sumner.

  They met at many of the same functions, but in their guise of guardian and ward, he rarely sought her out for more than a perfunctory greeting. Whether he was complimenting the host on a successful party, chatting with the patronesses of Almack’s or dancing with a wallflower, Johanna was aware of him. He was the most popular man in London—so popular, he didn’t have time for his ward. While she danced and laughed at whatever her partner said, she tried to ignore Derek.

  But he proved impossible to ignore. His rare laugh carried to her ears, or she spied his broad shoulders from the corner of her vision. Once she caught his blue eyes glowing by candlelight as he seemed to follow her movements, and she grew so lightheaded she feared she would faint.

  She’d met countless men of varying ages and degrees, but none lingered in her thoughts to rival Derek. Except for Lord Worthing. Which was odd, because she’d only ever spoken to him at the Sedgefield ball. She saw him often at parties she attended or while riding in the park. He never approached her, and on such scarce acquaintance, she didn’t dare approach him. She’d heard one young man say Worthing was famous for his set downs.

  Not that his opinion scared her. After all, why should it? She’d learned he was a leader of the Corinthian set, a member of the Four Horse Club and he had four sisters—Lady Sedgefield being the eldest, and the youngest, a Miss Marianne, who had yet to be presented. Whenever he deigned to visit Almack’s, the patronesses preened as if the rooster had entered the henhouse. But even Lady Jersey admitted he didn’t seem to have an eye for any particular young lady.

  Except, Johanna had the uncanny sense he watched her.

  When asked, Aunt Bess had sighed over him. “Don’t set your cap at him, Johanna. I’ve heard tell he’s broken a fair number of hearts. Although,” she said, tapping her forefinger against her chin, “you two would make a fitting match. I’ll mention it to Derek.” But Aunt Bess didn’t speak of Worthing again after that.

  Johanna didn’t view him as a potential match. Nor did she agree with Harry that Lord Worthing still meant Derek any ill will. He roused her curiosity, nothing more.

  By late May, Johanna had grown comfortable enough in London to walk with Nancy to Clark & Debenham in Cavendish Square whenever she needed to purchase ribbons, trims or other trifles. She’d just handed her purchase to Nancy and started down the haberdasher’s steps when she spied Lord Worthing.

  He saw her, too, and stopped to tip his hat. “Good day, Lady Johanna.” Dressed for riding, he showed a good leg in his fawn-colored breeches and gleaming Hessians. Brightened by the early afternoon sunshine, his coat of pale blue emphasized the silver flecks in his eyes.

  She dipped a curtsey. “Lord Worthing.”

  He looked about. “What, no warden today?”

  “None but Nancy. It’s only a short walk home.”

  “Then allow me to escort you.”

  Pleased to have an opportunity to speak with him again, Johanna agreed.

  “Miss?” Nancy drew her attention. “Remember, you’ll want to change before you go driving.”

  Worthing raised a brow. “Do you handle the reins?” He fell into step beside her.

  “Not with any skill. Mr. Ardmore is taking me to test his new pair of match bays around Hyde Park.”

  “Ardmore? I think not. He left for Sussex this morning. I was told he’d applied to Derek for your hand and was refused.”

  So great was her surprise, Johanna tripped on the hem of her skirt.

  Lord Worthing steadied her elbow and peered down into her face. “Did you not know?”

  “That he planned to propose? No.” She tried to fathom young Mr. Ardmore taking her in a passionate embrace, but the vision only made her skin turn clammy.

  “Has Derek discussed any of your suitors with you?”

  “There’s been more than one?”

  He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and moved forward again. “It’s hard to trust the rumor mill, but I can vouch for four men who’ve claimed they addressed Derek on the subject.” He looked down on her, the intensity of his eyes unnerving. “May I be frank with you?”

  With trepidation, she nodded. “I wish someone would be.”

  “Guard your heart, for there are a number of men at White’s who’ve entered a pool of wagers concerning you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  His brow furrowed as he frowned. “There’s no polite way to say this. A number of men are betting on who will become your husband. You have your own page in their betting book.”

  Embers of incredulity kindled deep within her and sparked to outrage. “I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

  “No, and I shouldn’t have told you, except—” His features softened as he smiled. “Except you strike me as rather an uncommon female. I felt you deserved to know.”

  Beneath his appraising gaze, Johanna’s face warmed, and she tried to blame it on the sun. She touched her bonnet, but then a thought struck her. “Are you considering offering for me?”

  Lord Worthing’s lips curled into a wide grin, and the silver flecks in his eyes sparkled with repressed laughter. “My dear outrageous girl, how am I to answer?”

  “Honestly, if you please.”

  He laughed at that. “I doubt Derek would look favorably on my suit. Besides, he’d be a damn fool not to marry you himself.” He drew them to a stop.

  She looked away from him and discovered they stood outside the Coatsworth house.

  His finger touched her chin, and he tilted her face back to meet his gaze before releasing her. “You deserve a better husband than I would be, but I hope you shall count me as a friend.”

  “Derek has warned me away from you.”

  “Has he?” Worthing looked away, the sun lighting a tic in his cheek. “He’s first and foremost your protector. He’s probably right to keep you from my lecherous clutches.”

  Though his tone was dark, Johanna smiled. She liked his unexpected candor. Bravely, she laid a hand on his sleeve. His muscle tensed beneath the fabric at her touch. “I choose my own friends, and I shan’t allow you to disparage yourself so.”

  His features softened again. “Brave girl. Now run along inside before Mr. Coatsworth sees fit to chase me off.”

  She doubted anyone could chase Lord Worthing away. “Thank you,” she said.

  He tipped his hat, turned on his heel, and strode away without a backward glance.
/>
  Nancy sidled up beside her. “Miss—?”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d forget everything you just heard, Nancy.”

  “Aye, Miss."

  Johanna let them into the house and, leaving her bonnet on, went in search of Harry. She found him in the front drawing room dozing over a book. Normally, she would have allowed him to sleep, for he’d been keeping all sorts of odd hours, but her conversation with Lord Worthing pressed her to wake him. “Harry!”

  “Huh?” The book slid from his fingers as his head shot up, and he shook it slightly. “Oh, Johanna. Say, got a note from Ardmore. He’s been called out of town.”

  “Hmm. So, the rumors are at least partially true.”

  “Rumors? What rumors?” He retrieved the book and laid it on a table.

  “I heard he asked Derek for my hand. Tell me,” Johanna pinned him with an angry glare, “Is this the first man Derek has turned away, or have there been others?”

  “Well, um…no. Not the first.”

  “How many?”

  “Seven, maybe eight.”

  Johanna threw her arms upward. “Seven!” She wheeled back to face Harry. “You knew. You knew yet never said a word to me. Do you know of the bets at White’s, too?”

  His brows knit. “What bets?”

  “On who will win my hand. Lord Worthing told me I’ve earned a page in the betting book.”

  “You in the betting book?” Harry pushed a hand through his hair. “The blackguard. He should never have shared such indecent information with you.”

  “Oh, so it’s fine for men to be placing bets upon me so long as I know naught about it.” She snorted with contempt.

  “It wasn’t Worthing’s place to repeat such stories to you.”

  “No, it was yours.”

  “Mine? I’m not even a member of White’s, how was I to know?”

  “Then it was Derek’s place.” She stalked about the room, her anger continuing to build. To have men treating her as if she were no more than a pawn—it was too demeaning to be borne. “Derek should have put a stop to it.”

  “Aye, if you can trust Worthing’s word. He might be trying to brew trouble.”

  “I doubt that. I’ll take it up with Derek.” So saying, Johanna swept out the door, leaving Harry behind in her disturbed wake.

  Fueled by outrage, she defied convention and walked to Grosvenor Square unescorted.

  Paget’s smile dimmed when he saw she was alone, but Johanna speared him with her gaze and demanded to see the duke. With a bow, Paget led her to Derek’s private study where he informed her His Grace was out this afternoon. No, His Grace hadn’t said with whom. He’d taken his pair of matched grays and the landau. He was expected for supper, Paget assured her, and had expressed the intention afterward of attending a fireworks display with Miss Sumner and a party of friends.

  Upon hearing this news, Johanna announced her intention to wait. Paget took her pelisse and bonnet away and returned with a glass of lemonade and some teacakes.

  Johanna waited half an hour with ever-dwindling patience. She ignored the lemonade and teacakes, as she desired no hospitality from Derek. Another quarter hour frayed her temper to the breaking point, and she strode to the sideboard and poured herself a brandy. She downed a dainty portion with a gulp just as Derek, Charis and Lady Sumner entered the room laughing.

  Spying Johanna with the open brandy decanter, his laughter stopped abruptly.

  Her gaze swept from Derek to the two ladies, and she slammed down her glass.

  Derek steered mother and daughter out the door. “Excuse me, Lady Sumner, Miss Sumner. My ward apparently needs to have a private word with me. Paget will show you to the drawing room, and I’ll join you in a few minutes. Paget!”

  With Charis and her mother safely out of earshot, Derek turned to scowl at her. “Will you never learn propriety, Johanna? Whatever must Charis Sumner think of you?”

  His attitude stung. Charis must have the proprieties protected, but Johanna’s name could be bandied about at his club. “I don’t give a damn what she thinks of me.”

  “Very pretty, my dear.” He opened the door. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion tomorrow.”

  “We’ll discuss this now. I want to know what you said to Geoffrey Ardmore that made him leave town today.”

  A crack of laughter escaped him, but he shut the door again. “Left town, did he? I didn’t think I gave him such a scare.”

  “Why should you scare him at all? What threat could he possibly be to you—unless, oh, don’t tell me he had the audacity to ask you for my hand. Could that have been it?”

  “And if it were? He’s a boy. He’s no business proposing to anyone at his age.”

  “Harry tells me there have been seven other men who have offered for me, Derek—seven of them. Who were they?”

  “Would you like me to list them alphabetically?” he asked with maddening calm.

  “Damn you—this isn’t a joke!”

  “No, it isn’t. Very well, your suitors were Braithwaite, Terrelson, Campion, Halloran, Penbury, Burton and Goodwyn. Oh, and Ardmore of course. Now, will you go home?”

  Johanna ignored this blatant attempt to be rid of her. “And did all of them have bets on me at White’s?”

  He pinned her with an intense stare. “Did Harry tell you of that, too?”

  “No, Lord Worthing told me.”

  Derek’s jaw hardened, and his eyes grew dark and glittery beneath hooded lids. “When did you speak with him?”

  “I came upon him in Cavendish Square today.” She lifted her chin. “He walked me home.”

  “Beware of him, Johanna.” His tone, though quiet, was menacing.

  She refused to back down before his anger. “Why do you fear him? So far, he’s been nothing but honest with me.”

  An unpleasant laugh broke from him. “Honest? This paragon who sets upon you when I’ve warned him away?” With an effort he uncurled his fingers from the fists they’d formed.

  Johanna blinked. Derek hadn’t only warned Lord Worthing away, but Ardmore and all those other suitors, too. Suddenly, she understood. “I refused your offer, and now you’re withholding your consent. And all because I hurt your pride—your pride. What about my pride? Oh, I keep forgetting, I’m but a woman, worthy of nothing more than a wager!” Intent on escape, she shouldered past him.

  He grabbed her arm, alarmed at how she’d interpreted his actions. “Johanna, wait—”

  “Don’t touch me!” She fought to break free, but Derek’s viselike grip only tightened until she stilled. “I hate you,” she whispered.

  “Maybe so, but we’ll finish this now,” Derek responded grimly. He’d waited patiently, but now he wanted answers. “So think carefully of all the men you’ve met this Season. Is there one among them you favor? Tell me his name, and I’ll send out the banns.”

  She chose the name guaranteed to wipe the smirk from his face. “Lord Worthing.”

  Derek released her as if she’d bitten him. “Has he addressed you?” he demanded.

  Sensing she’d wounded him, Johanna looked away, afraid he’d read her guilty expression. “Not in so many words.”

  “Forget him.”

  “No.” She braved meeting his gaze, unaccustomed to being at odds with him. “All I ask is the freedom to choose my own husband. Do you think me incapable of that?”

  Sunlight from the window cast a gleam in his blue eyes. “No, you’re wise enough to know your money makes you very attractive. And that bothers you, doesn’t it?”

  With a frown, she looked away, but he tilted her face to look his way again.

  “You want a man to fall in love with you, not for your wealth or even your beauty, but for whom you are inside.” Derek studied her flushed face, the parted lips, the brightness of her eyes, and tried to still the emotions roiling within him. “Perhaps one day a man will come along who steals your heart, and it’ll never beat the same again.”

  She became conscious of the po
unding of her heart as his arms enfolded her.

  “Perhaps one day, he’ll take you into his arms, and with one kiss he’ll change your destiny.”

  Before Johanna could utter a protest, Derek’s mouth swooped down and hungrily claimed hers. She stiffened, shocked by the sudden display of such intense emotion. Almost immediately, his lips became less insistent but more tempting. The soft coaxing caress of his mouth across hers was impossible to withstand. Her arms crept up to his shoulders, and she returned the kiss with an awakening hunger of her own, unwilling to allow this moment to escape. Though she’d secretly imagined this day, the kiss eclipsed her dreams.