Ambersley (Lords of London)

by Amy Atwell

  Marry Curtis. There was a daunting proposition. While she’d once thought she couldn’t live without being at Ambersley, she knew better now. Home was not defined by a place, but by people. Marrying Curtis wouldn’t bring her happiness any more than the title of duchess.

  Her head still reeled with all the information Lady Vaughan had imparted about Derek. But now that she’d had time to consider everything she’d heard, Johanna discovered she felt no revulsion. He was still the same Derek he’d been before she’d learned these secrets about his past. The man who’d rebuilt Ambersley, the man who’d defended his sister’s honor and provided for his family. Was she to believe his stepmother’s stories or the deeds she’d witnessed over the years?

  She turned away from the window to look about the familiar bedroom. She had strength enough now to leave Ambersley and never return. Harry could help her escape, and Mr. Minton could supervise her fortune until she reached her majority. She need not marry—ever.

  But she couldn’t bear the thought of living without Derek. His illness fresh in her mind, she tried to imagine what she’d feel now if he’d died. An abyss opened where her soul dwelled. Now that she was assured he would live, would she be any happier if he married someone else and she never saw him again?

  Degrading to admit, but she didn’t want to live her life without him, no matter how he felt about her. She accepted he didn’t love her. Now that she’d trapped him into marriage, she’d simply have to do her best to make sure he didn’t grow to hate her.

  ~

  Johanna thought nothing could be more painful than her interview with Lady Vaughan. Nothing, that is, until later that day when she faced Aunt Bess and Harry.

  She’d witnessed Harry’s arrival on horseback. Hatless, he’d flung himself off the lathered steed and run up the front steps. She’d heard him in the lower hall shouting her name but hadn’t the nerve to face him. She’d left that to Derek, even though he could barely leave his bed. Aunt Bess arrived later by coach, serene as always and with Johanna’s trunks and maid. One of the housemaids came to Johanna’s room to tell her she was wanted in the duke’s library.

  With trepidation, Johanna answered the summons to discover Derek and the Coatsworths awaiting her.

  Aunt Bess came forward to place a feathery kiss on her cheek. “Child, we were so worried.”

  “I’m sorry,” Johanna whispered as tears pooled in her eyes. She had never wanted to disappoint Aunt Bess.

  Harry came forward to wrap her in a tight brotherly hug. “Worthing said you’d save Derek. And now Derek tells us the two of you are to be wed.”

  Derek stood by the empty fireplace, a hand on his hip, the other arm leaning on the mantle. “I told them everything,” he said in a tired voice.

  Harry loosened his grip on her, and she searched his face. But Harry never judged, she’d learned. He looked at her with boyish earnestness. “Is this what you want?”

  With a helpless shrug, Johanna shook her head. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m resigned to the fact Derek and I belong together. There doesn’t seem to be any way to escape it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat.

  Derek stepped away from the fireplace, his face a blank reaction to her words. He faltered once as he came toward her, and Johanna surmised it took every ounce of energy he possessed to stand and entertain his guests.

  “We’ll forego the reading of the banns,” Derek explained to Harry and Aunt Bess. “I’ll procure a special license, and we’ll hold the ceremony in the chapel here. The Season’s drawing to a close, and it makes no sense to plan a large Town wedding when everyone will be eager to escape to the country.”

  Aunt Bess cleared her throat. “Derek, the ton will reschedule their shooting parties for something as momentous as the Duke of Ambersley’s wedding.”

  “Perhaps, but it seems hypocritical to stand before an audience and profess our love.”

  Johanna stiffened at this reminder that he didn’t love her. Derek may as well have said he saw her only as a rich purse or a fertile field on which to sow future generations.

  “When do you plan to hold the wedding?” Harry asked.

  Derek rubbed his tired eyes. “As soon as I procure the license, but I should wait to hear from Minton. I sent him a note formally requesting his approval of the marriage.”

  “Johanna, are you feeling well, child? You’ve gone all pale,” Aunt Bess noted.

  Johanna touched her forehead and noted that even her hand looked translucent. “I have a headache is all. Perhaps I’ll lie down before supper.” With encouraging words from Harry and Aunt Bess, and silence from Derek, Johanna quit the room. She padded up the stairs, her mind tumultuous, until she recalled Aunt Bess hadn’t mentioned Emily and Lady Brindle. Had anyone told the Brindles she was safe? Her note was so brief, whatever did they think of her disappearance? Embarrassment washed over her, but she retraced her steps toward the library until she heard Derek’s voice, vibrating with frustration.

  “Of course we neither look happy.” His words froze her in her tracks. “I could throttle my stepmother for forcing us to marry like this. It’s the worst thing that could have happened.”

  Mortified, Johanna backed away from the door silently praying no one would hear her.

  In the room, Harry asked, “Then why go through with it?”

  Without waiting, she fled to her room, already knowing Derek’s answer—he would say it was his duty, both to protect her and to secure her fortune for his family. Either way made her less of a person than she’d been when she was a gardener’s apprentice.

  In the sanctuary of her room, Johanna tried to control her shaking limbs. Derek didn’t want to marry her. Not at all. Undoubtedly, she’d spoiled his chance to wed Charis Sumner. She’d so hoped she could find a way to make him love her, yet she should have known better. He thought all women were selfish and manipulative, and now she’d proven to be the same, despite her noble intentions. How could she blame him for not loving her? Oh, he desired her. They liked each other. Marriages were often built on far less. She drew a breath, determined never to let him know she’d dreamed of more. If a marriage of convenience was what he wanted, so be it.

  In the library, Harry repeated his question. “Why marry her if it’s not what you want?”

  Derek rubbed his aching eyes in an effort to blot out the vision of Johanna’s pale face. He was so damned tired of this emptiness that threatened to swallow him. “If I don’t marry her at once, I fear Worthing will.” He stalked from the room leaving silence in his wake.

  Bess watched him go. “Derek looks so unhappy. And Johanna—I feel as if I’ve failed her, somehow.” She pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “Have you ever considered offering for her?”

  “Mother,” Harry looked her in the eye. “There has only ever been one man for Johanna, and that is Derek.”

  Aunt Bess frowned at the conviction in his voice. “You’ve always followed behind him and offered him first choice of everything. Yet, you’ve asked nothing in return.”

  “That’s not true. Derek and I are different people. He wants great things from life, but he won’t admit it even to himself. Marrying Johanna will be the making of him.” Harry thought for a moment, then his brow cleared as his lips twisted into a smile. “I wonder if that’s what Worthing meant when he said she’d save Derek?”

  “And what about you?” she asked with exasperation.

  “Me? I’m a much simpler and infinitely happier man,” Harry said with a laugh. “When I wed, I assure you, there will be none of this drama."

  ~

  Derek pulled a laughing Johanna into his arms. She came willingly and needed no coaxing to meet his kiss. His lips took hers hungrily, tasting and teasing a response from her. But when she responded by darting her tongue across his lips, the conqueror became the vanquished, and he surrendered completely to his passion. His arms locked around her, he pulled her against his full length. He whispered words against her hair that stopped her sensual
exploration of his throat.

  Leaning her forehead against his chin, she asked in a husky whisper, “Did you say something?”

  His arousal grew more pronounced than when her fiery kisses had branded him.

  She lifted her head, and he gazed into those magnificent blue-green eyes. “I thought I heard you say something,” she repeated and her left eyebrow lifted. God, he loved that eyebrow, those eyes, everything about her…

  On the precipice of repeating the three words he’d whispered into her hair, his world toppled into a gray mist.

  Derek awoke from his dream with a start. The images were vivid in his mind and he smiled at the desire it provoked. He hadn’t desired another woman in months—ever since learning Johanna’s true identity. There had been times when he’d needed a woman, thought he wanted one, but when faced with the actuality of visiting his mistress, he’d done so only to end their relationship.

  His smile faded at the memory of those three words he’d been prepared to say to her in his dream. I love you. Three tiny syllables that wielded so much power. He’d never said them to any woman, nor had he believed the few women who’d said them to him. Love was as rare and fleeting as a shooting star. When dawn came, not only did the star’s luminous trail fade, so did the passion inspired by it.

  This uneasiness in his heart would dim along with his mad desire to gather Johanna in his arms and beg her to love him, for the lady of his dream wasn’t the lady he was to wed. Granted, there had been similarities that night he found her in his bedroom. Just the memory of those few torturous minutes could arouse him.

  But since she’d agreed to marry him, she’d become withdrawn. Her words of the previous day still stung. I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m resigned to the fact Derek and I belong together. There doesn’t seem to be any way to escape it. She wouldn’t be marrying him but for his stepmother’s meddling. Derek wished he understood her feelings, but unlike most women, Johanna didn’t advertise her emotions. He only knew that when she looked at him, he felt like her captor.

  If he truly loved her, he’d stop this wedding and deliver her into Worthing’s hands. Johanna hadn’t spoken a word of how or why St. John had brought her to Ambersley, but Harry had shared the brief, straightforward story St. John had presented him when he arrived in Tunbridge Wells. Clearly, Johanna had asked for the marquess’s aid, and he’d assisted her with gallantry and honor. He was the better man, and could provide Johanna a home, a title, even love, without fear of reprisal.

  Derek’s hold on Ambersley and the title was tenuous at best, his fortune minimal, his relationship with his closest family members precarious. If he loved Johanna with the selfless devotion she deserved, he’d release her and grant her the one thing she’d asked of him—the freedom to choose her own husband.

  He climbed from his bed to prowl restlessly about the chamber. He should put everything right. He should grant Curtis the Ambersley patent, he should confess the sins of his birth to Society and leave once more for India as he’d planned long ago. He should release Johanna to find a love more deserving than his. He stopped at the window to look down upon the rose garden, its once meticulous care abandoned until the bushes now grew wild in riotous clumps. Johnny could reclaim that garden in less than a week.

  With a sigh, Derek acknowledged he’d do none of the things he should do. He needed Johanna as desperately as those roses needed sunlight—for sustenance. He’d been granted an opportunity to bind her to him forever, and by God, he’d take it.

  For the hundredth time, he considered whether this marriage was ill-advised and came to the same conclusion—it most decidedly was. He was a selfish bastard to force her into it.

  So be it.

  Chapter 19

  Ambersley, July 1815

  The marriage of Derek Preston Vaughan, twelfth Duke of Ambersley, to Amber Johanna Vaughan, heiress to the Vaughan fortune, took place on July 22, 1815. It was a small affair, with only family members and Nigel Minton present.

  Rosalie Vaughan stood outside Ambersham’s tiny chapel with her children, reluctant to witness more of her hopes dashed. She seethed with frustration that both Derek and that chit had spoiled her plans. Her only consolation was that both bride and groom looked miserable.

  “Mark me, Curtis, Derek will pay for this indignity to us today, and you shall get your due.”

  “Mother, leave it be. Today of all days, please. Derek owes me nothing.”

  Rosalie raised her hand and barely repressed the urge to slap him. He stood half a head taller than she now, and he no longer regarded her with any fear, only a wariness that frustrated her. He’d become a man—worse, he’d become his own man, one who didn’t seek her guidance.

  “I’ve set my hopes in you, Curtis. Do not disappoint me.” She gathered her skirts to climb the steps into the church, but paused to look over her shoulder at the children. “After the ceremony, we leave for London.”

  Curtis raised his brows. “But the party—”

  She shot him a look that silenced him. Party. There was nothing here for any of her family to celebrate.

  “We’ve missed enough of the Season as it is.” Rosalie looked beyond her troublesome son to her daughter. The fresh air and rest had added a glow to the girl’s eyes and skin. “Now that the heiress is wed, we need to see to proper matches for both of you.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Olivia dropped her a curtsey, ever dutiful and obedient. She might yet be the salvation of the family.

  Rosalie turned and climbed the steps, leaving Curtis and Olivia to follow.

  Mr. Minton, assigned the task of giving Johanna away, stood with her at the back of the church. He watched her with solemn bespectacled eyes. “I came to Ambersley to write your father’s will after you were born. Your parents loved you dearly, I remember. They would be very proud of you today.”

  Johanna’s hand covered her mouth in surprise. “Thank you,” she managed to whisper, but there was no time to say more before he led her down the aisle. Throughout the ceremony, her vision remained misty with memories of what had been and dreams of what might be. Derek’s jaw tightened when he pulled back her veil and spotted the telltale moisture. Johanna braced herself for his kiss, but his lips lightly touched hers in a brief caress. She swallowed hard and smiled tremulously in response. He didn’t smile as he led her from the church.

  Johanna was grateful to climb into the barouche for the ride back to Ambersley Hall and avoid Lady Vaughan’s bitter scowl and Aunt Bess’s frown of concern. She sat beside Derek, who remained silent, while she tried very hard not to think about what this day could have been if only he loved her. Derek’s own words returned from her childhood to haunt her—words he’d spoken when he was convinced she was a boy. No man loves his wife half so well as he loves his mistress. And much of that is because his mistress never swears she loves him, but his wife swears it constantly. A woman is never as attractive after she tells a man she loves him. That’s because you can never trust a woman to mean it. She worried her lip with her teeth. How long would it take her to conquer these unwanted emotions?

  Derek’s gaze slid over her dispassionately. Well, he’d done it. He’d married the one woman he wanted above all others. She was his—and she’d never looked more unobtainable than she did at this moment. She studied the landscape as if it were the only important thing in her life. Derek silently cursed his luck.

  As the barouche pulled up before the Hall, Johanna heard a cheer rise on the wind. Derek hopped down from the carriage and offered his hand to assist her. Johanna gaped at the sight—the entire staff of Ambersley, and all the tenants as well, had gathered before the front doors to greet them. There were smiles and laughter, a few tears and much applause until Derek held up his hand for silence. He motioned Paget forward.

  In his most commanding tones, Paget announced, “Presenting the Duke and Duchess of Ambersley. Welcome home, Lady Ambersley!”

  Another cheer burst from the crowd, and a lump formed in Johanna’s throat as her fa
mily—for that’s how she’d always think of these people—applauded her. They were so obviously pleased to welcome her as their new mistress, she couldn’t help but smile. Looking over the sea of faces, Johanna saw Mrs. North dabbing her eyes, Stokes blowing his nose, Mrs. Chalmers nodding sagely, and Paget grinning like the village idiot. Johanna would have loved to celebrate this day with all of them, but knew it was inappropriate to her new station in life.

  Derek interrupted the applause with a shout. “Luncheon will be served on the back lawn in half an hour!” Cheers erupted anew, but this time the crowd started to disperse. He looked down upon Johanna. “I thought you would like to include them in the celebration.”

  “Thank you.” She couldn’t find words to say more.