Ambersley (Lords of London)

by Amy Atwell

  Her pistol still aimed, Lady Vaughan smiled. “I applaud your courage. Unfortunately, what I already knew, and I’m sure it’s what Reed was trying to tell you, is that your pistol is empty. Reed didn’t want to risk any accidents. So you see, while you were being noble and fair, I already knew I would win. That’s why you will never best me. You don’t understand how to use the element of surprise to your advantage.”

  Johanna lunged at the older woman, determined to wrestle the pistol from her. She gripped her wrist and tried to take control of the gun, but both Lady Vaughan’s hands were already there. The two women tussled with no loss or gain of ground until suddenly a shot rent the air.

  Johanna heard the sharp report, smelled the powder, but everything was already pain, blood and blackness.

  Chapter 23

  The Ram’s Head was the third inn where Derek and his retinue stopped to seek the runaways. Not fancy, The Ram’s Head was large and stood close to the docks. If Johanna and Reed planned on boarding a ship, this would be the most convenient place to stay. Derek hopped down from the carriage even as Cushing sawed on the reins to bring the horses to a standstill.

  The innkeeper stood in the doorway and squinted. Recognizing members of the Quality, he turned ingratiating in a blink. “My lord, you honor us. How may we be of service? Fresh horses? A room perhaps? Or maybe a meal?” He undid the strings of his greasy apron and whisked it off with a bow as Curtis joined them.

  Derek noted the man never gave clearance to allow entry. “I need information. I’m seeking a man and a woman. The man is tall and fair. The woman is wearing a turquoise gown, I believe.”

  Recognizing the description, the innkeeper smiled knowingly. “Ahh, the Bow Street Runner and his prisoner.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The Runner brought her in at gun point. I hear tell she masquerades as a lady of quality in order to rob gentlemen. Are you one of the gents she robbed? She’s a fetching piece, she is,” he finished slyly.

  Derek stared the smirk down. Frost tinged his voice as he replied, “I believe that fetching piece is the Duchess of Ambersley and my wife. Where is she?”

  The innkeeper’s pudgy bluster faded, and he pointed toward a closed door. “In the coffee room, my lord.”

  A shot echoed from within the inn.

  Derek halted in his tracks only a moment before rushing the portal, Curtis hard upon his heels. Together they burst through the closed door.

  In the center of the room, Rosalie Vaughan held a small pistol. The acrid smell of gunpowder permeated the air, its residue lifting in a cloud. Johanna lay sprawled at her feet while blood pooled on the floor beside her.

  “You’ve murdered the duchess,” Reed Barlow noted with wonder. It was the first notice Derek took of his supposed rival who stretched oddly across a chair with a wad of superfine fabric bunched up against his shoulder and the sleeve of his shirt torn. Derek’s gaze returned to bore at Rosalie.

  She stared at him, horror etched on her face. She dropped the spent pistol to the floor with a thud.

  He rushed forward, ignoring his stepmother to kneel by Johanna. He lifted her head gently and blanched at her pallor. Thankfully, he saw she still breathed. Blood seeped from two places in her upper left arm, and then he realized the ball from the shot must have passed through her limb. A red lump marred her forehead, showing she must have struck it when she fell.

  Whispers of sound made him look up.

  “Hold, Mother!” Curtis, his face white, held a small pistol pointed above Derek’s head.

  Derek realized Rosalie stood over him with a dagger in her hand and fiery hatred ablaze in her eyes. Clearly, she’d meant to stab him in the back.

  She cast Curtis a look of contempt. “It’s our chance to be rid of them both. Don’t be a fool.”

  “I can’t let you do this,” Curtis said. His arm shook slightly.

  She hesitated. “But I’ve done all this for you. Ambersley belongs to you.”

  “I don’t want it. I’ve never wanted it.”

  Rosalie glanced down at Derek. “You. You turned him against me.”

  Derek tensed, prepared to defend his injured wife.

  With a wild eye, Rosalie glared at Curtis. “You won’t shoot your own mother,” she said with disdain as she raised her hand to strike.

  Before Derek could spring, Worthing grabbed Rosalie from behind and cocked one of Derek’s dueling pistols to her temple. “I, however, should have no such compunction,” he said in her ear. “So, don’t tempt me.”

  The dagger fell from Rosalie’s hand and clattered to the floor.

  Olivia entered the room and squeaked at the scene before her. “Mother!” Then she spied Reed, lolled in a chair. “Reed, you’re hurt!” She ran to him.

  Derek lifted Johanna in his arms, cradling her to him as if she weighed but a feather. He must have been mad to ever think he could live without her. She was his life, and finally he understood what his father had felt for the maid Deborah. It no longer mattered to Derek why Johanna had left him, or how she had come to be here with Reed Barlow and his stepmother. He only wanted her to wake up, so he could get down on his knees, swear his love and beg her to return home and never again leave his side.

  He turned to the slack-jawed innkeeper. “I need a bedroom for the lady, and we must fetch a surgeon immediately.”

  The innkeeper scratched his head and finally offered a name.

  “Curtis!” Derek’s command brought his brother immediately. “Send Cushing to find Mr. Carbury of High Street. Bring him here at once.”

  Curtis looked one last time at his mother before stepping outside. Worthing settled Rosalie into a chair. Seeing her plans in ruins, she’d gone pale and silent.

  The innkeeper’s wife led Derek up the staircase to the front bedroom where he deposited Johanna gently on the tester bed. He used his handkerchief to bind her arm, grateful that the bleeding had slowed. Lowering himself onto a rickety chair, he leaned his forehead on the mattress beside the woman he loved, his fingers twined through hers. The door opened with a gentle squeak of rusty hinges. Derek rose to meet Curtis at the door.

  “I talked with Reed. I think you should know what happened.”

  Derek glanced back at Johanna’s prone form as he listened to Curtis recount Reed’s interpretation of the night’s events. “Thank you for telling me,” he said into the awkward silence that followed.

  “Reed said she was determined to return to London today, no matter the cost…” Curtis trailed off with an embarrassed sigh of inadequacy. “I’m sorry, Derek. I never imagined Mother would harm someone. What she did today is indefensible, I admit, but must we call the constable?”

  Derek raked a troubled hand through his hair. Full well, he knew the personal cost of a public trial and the ensuing scandal. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone. An idea struck him. “Reed says she has a ticket to board a ship for America?”

  “Yes, I—” Curtis’s eyes lit with understanding. “But won’t she return?”

  “If she does, she’ll face prison for attempted murder. Tell her, if she goes, I’ll provide an annual allowance for her.”

  “After what she’s done to you, you’d show her such clemency?"

  “Had she killed Johanna, I would have destroyed her. As it is, I’m more concerned with your future, yours and Olivia’s. If she’ll but stay on the other side of the ocean, an allowance is a small price to pay. I’m only sorry America has to deal with her.”

  “Then Worthing and I will see to it. Derek—” Curtis faltered but then looked up to meet his brother’s eye. “Mother always tried to make me believe I’d be a better duke than you. I only hope one day I prove to be half the man you are.”

  Derek watched as his brother disappeared down the staircase, then he returned to Johanna’s side.

  The surgeon arrived minutes later, declared the bone untouched, and made quick work of cleansing the wounds. He recommended a compress for her bruised head, giving his opinion that it l
ooked painful but not dangerous. The duchess, he assured, should make a full recovery. Finished, he repacked his small bag and went to check on the wounded young man downstairs.

  Derek brushed his fingers across Johanna’s forehead in a gentle caress. The need to hold her became as vital as a heartbeat, and he sat on the edge of the bed to gather her limp form against him. He wanted to pour all his rage and grief into her and have her turn it to love. Something she did so effortlessly. She took all his shortcomings and gave him hope for redemption. Her head cradled against his shoulder, he laid his cheek against her soft curls.

  “Could you not hold me so tightly? My arm hurts like the very devil.” Johanna’s words fell like raindrops on the parched landscape of his soul.

  Derek complied, and she lifted her head to consider him. He expected condemnation, guilt, fear, any of a number of emotions to appear on her face, but instead he saw wonder in her regard as she lifted her good arm and traced his unshaven jaw with a trembling fingertip. She met his eyes, and, Lord help him, she smiled.

  “You followed me. Why?” she asked tremulously.

  “Why? I came here after I learned my lovely wife had left town with another man. I should put you over my knee and beat you.” He expected her blossoming smile to fade—instead, it opened full bloom, which only annoyed him more. “I’ve heard most of the story from Reed Barlow, but perhaps you’d be good enough to clarify some points which still make no sense. Such as when you launched yourself at my stepmother while she was holding a gun—had you no concern for your own safety?” He vented all the frustration of the last sixteen hours on her.

  He loves me. Jubilation made Johanna lightheaded. When he thought she’d left him, he’d followed immediately. He might believe he followed out of jealousy, hatred, revenge, but they were all ploys to bring her back because he loved her.

  She tried to focus her pounding head on his question. “My safety was never the issue. Your stepmother threatened to kill you so Curtis could inherit Ambersley. I had to stop her before she could bring you any harm.”

  “And why in blazes would you feel the need to protect me?”

  “Because I love you,” Johanna said simply.

  Derek stared at her. The lump in his throat may well have been his heart trying to escape the strictures of his chest. He’d feared he would never hear those words from her again. This woman he loved stated them with straightforward simplicity and left him feeling oddly inadequate. “I feared I’d lost you. There’s more you need to know…” he trailed off as Johanna shook her head.

  “I know everything about you I need. I only hope one day you will trust me enough to love me.”

  “Trust was never the issue. Rosalie had me convinced I wasn’t my father’s son. How could I let you love me, knowing I was nothing but a bastard, a usurper?”

  “I loved you knowing all that. I wed you knowing all that. Lady Vaughan told me the night she found us at Ambersley. She hoped by defaming you, she could coerce me into marrying Curtis.”

  This made no sense to him. “You married me even though I was on the verge of losing the title, Ambersley, everything? It defies reason—you could have wed Worthing.”

  She stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. “I should never have listened to you when you lectured me about love, for you don’t understand it at all.” She placed her hands on either side of his face and gazed into his eyes, hoping somehow to get through his very thick head. “I didn’t want to wed Worthing. I married you—the one man I love, admire and respect—and who or what your parents were has nothing to do with it.”

  Derek held her gaze while he slowly absorbed her words. Just as he’d always dreamed and yet dared not hope, here was a woman willing to love him for the man he was, not the title he bore nor the lands he owned. Yet, if all that were true— “Then why weren’t you happy about marrying me?”

  “Because you weren’t happy about marrying me.”

  He straightened. “I wasn’t happy that you were forced to marry me. I wanted it to be your choice. There’s a difference.”

  She allowed herself a tiny smile. “You wanted to marry me? Why?” Her lips parted as she waited for his answer.

  Derek’s heart thundered in his throat. Did he finally dare claim this woman’s love? “I couldn’t bear to see you wed another.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Without you, my life is empty.”

  “Is that why you followed me when you believed I’d left you?”

  “Not the only reason,” he admitted.

  She expelled the breath she’d held. “Tell me now,” she coaxed with an encouraging smile. “It’s much easier said than you think.”

  “I love you.” Derek shared the three words he’d held in his heart too long.

  “And I love you, Derek.” Johanna leaned up and kissed him.

  Only her wounded arm prevented him from clutching her tightly against him as their mouths melded. Speaking words of love gave him a joy he’d never before known.

  She reveled as his firm lips caressed away all her doubts, as his fingers framed her face with their delicate touch. The stubble on his chin scratched against her skin as their kiss deepened, but she welcomed the rough awareness of him.

  With a ragged breath, Derek tore himself away from her mouth to gaze into her aqua eyes. “You must rest now. You might have died.”

  “And yet, I’ve never felt more alive,” she said.

  A rapping at the door interrupted them.

  “One moment.” He settled Johanna back against the pillows and covered her with the blankets. Opening the door, he found Cushing, hat in hand.

  “Pardon the interruption, Master. Is Lady Johanna…” He seemed unable to complete the sentence.

  “She’s going to recover, Cushing.” Derek opened the door wider to allow the older man a view of her.

  Cushing beamed a smile of relief before clearing his throat. “Lord Curtis and Lord Worthing have taken Lady Vaughan to board her ship.”

  “Worthing?” Johanna interrupted. “You brought Worthing and Curtis on a hunt for your wayward wife?”

  Derek ducked his head. “And Olivia. Is that bad?”

  Her eyes twinkled with happiness and approval. “No, I think that’s very good.”

  Emotions he couldn’t even name swelled Derek’s chest. He turned back to Cushing. “Please inform Curtis and Olivia we’ll be staying here until tomorrow. And invite Worthing, if he’s at liberty to remain as our guest. I want to assess Johanna’s and Mr. Barlow’s injuries before we return to London. Book rooms for all of us with the innkeeper, and see what you can do to stem any stories he might tell his friends about this morning’s events.”

  “Aye, Master,” Cushing said with a smile. “I can do all that.” With a nod to his mistress, he went to his tasks.

  Derek returned to sit on the bed and gather Johanna against him once more, content to hold her until she fell asleep. “For one so young, how do you know so much about love?” he asked, his head resting against her hair.

  “Perhaps I was born with the knowledge. I’ve loved you so long, I cannot imagine my life without you.”

  He cuddled her close. “I almost lost you.”

  “I won’t leave you again,” she whispered. He heard her tears.

  “God help you if you do, for I’ll come after you.” He leaned back to look at her. “My love is a selfish, all-consuming thing. I’ll need you to help teach me to temper it.”

  Her eyes glowed with happiness. “That could take a lifetime, my lord.”

  “I count on it.” He lowered his lips to hers.

  Epilogue

  Ambersley, Christmas 1815

  Johanna had always loved Christmastime at Ambersley, but this year her joy was replete. She’d driven with Derek from house to house to distribute the Christmas geese. She’d stood beside Paget and doled out the rum punch to the tenants during their annual gathering at the stables. They had toasted good will toward men, and sung the carols that d
efined the season.

  The Hall was filled with family. Curtis and Olivia had remained in Harley Street until Derek convinced them to come to Ambersley in early November. The days grew shorter and colder, and a fortnight before Christmas, Aunt Bess arrived with Harry and Mr. Minton. Johanna kissed the dapper gentleman on his pate, and congratulated him on his upcoming nuptials. Aunt Bess had decided on a spring wedding, but even without the formality, Johanna announced her intention of referring to Mr. Minton as Uncle Nigel. He blushed and demurred, but she noticed he had no trouble learning to respond to his new name.