Beauty and the Earl

by Patricia Grasso

  “Where does that door lead?”

  “His Lordship’s chamber.”

  “You should not have given me the chamber intended for his countess,” Amber said, a blush staining her cheeks.

  “If we settle you now,” the majordomo told her, “we won’t need to move you later. The late countess never slept here.”

  Amber inclined her head. Apparently, the man thought she would remain at Arden Hall permanently.

  “You have already lit a fire in the hearth,” she said. “How did you know I would be staying?”

  “Prince Rudolf and I enjoyed a conversation while you spoke with His Lordship,” Pebbles answered. “The household has waited a long time for your arrival. Molly has already hung your gowns in the dressing room over there and stored a few items in the highboy. Shall I bring you a pot of tea?”

  “No, thank you, Mister—?”

  “Just Pebbles, Your Highness.”

  “Thank you, Mister Just-Pebbles.”

  Pebbles left the bedchamber, a broad grin on his face.

  Safe, at long last. Amber felt her body beginning to relax after the tension of the previous two months. Wandering across the chamber, she looked out the window to the garden below. Mist, sheer as a bride’s veil, laced the air. After closing the drapes, she removed her gown and climbed beneath the bed’s coverlet.

  Gruff but kind, the earl was an enigma. What was the best way to appeal to him? She had no real flirting experience. Gentlemen had always been attracted to her, but she had avoided friendship with all but Sergei, whom she had known since childhood.

  Perhaps no strategy was best. She needed to be herself. Anything less than complete honesty would be unfair and lead to an unhappy marriage.

  Amber closed her eyes and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep. Hours later, she awakened to the sound of humming. She saw a young woman fussing with one of the gowns her cousin had bought her.

  Thinking of Rudolf made her smile. Her cousin had purchased her a complete wardrobe, insisting she needed to wrap herself like a pretty package for sale if she wanted to catch a husband.

  “What is your name?”

  With a surprised cry, the woman whirled around. Her hands flew to her breast, but she recovered herself enough to curtsey.

  Amber sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. “I apologize for startling you.”

  “My name is Molly, Your Highness. His Lordship said I’m to take care of you.”

  “Is that so?” Amber shifted her attention to the gown.

  Molly followed her gaze. “I took the liberty of choosing a gown for you,” she said. “If you’d like another, I’ll start on it now.”

  “The blue is acceptable,” Amber said. “Tell me about the earl.”

  “You could never find a more devoted husband,” Molly answered, her attention on the gown again. “His Lordship needs a woman who can see past his scars.” She looked over her shoulder at Amber. “Everyone at Arden Hall is hoping you’re the one.”

  “The countess must have been a special woman to have won the earl’s devotion.” Amber felt inadequate. She was a bastard. How did she dare intrude upon the earl’s life and expect marriage?

  “Laughter filled Arden Hall in those days,” Molly told her. “After the fire, a cloud of gloom settled over the house. Perhaps Heaven sent you to bring sunshine back to His Lordship.”

  Amber doubted she was up to the task of bringing sunshine into anyone’s life, but said, “Miracles do happen every day.”

  “His Lordship doesn’t need a miracle,” Molly said. “Love will cure what ails him.”

  Love would cure what ailed her, too.

  An hour later, Amber inspected herself in the cheval mirror. She wore the blue silk gown with rounded neckline and short, puffed sleeves. Following her cousin’s advice about pretty packaging, Amber left her hair loose instead of pinning it up. Gentlemen had always been entranced by her hair. She hoped the earl would also become captivated.

  Amber walked down the stairs to the foyer where a footman waited to escort her to the dining room. The earl stood alone and stared into the hearth’s flames while he awaited her.

  “My lord?”

  Miles turned at the sound of her voice. His dark gaze drifted from her face to her breasts to her waist.

  “You look lovely.” He crossed the dining room.

  Amber gave him a smile filled with sunshine. “Thank you, my lord.”

  The dining room had carved ceilings and an ebony floor. Two crystal chandeliers lit the twenty-five-foot mahogany table. On the opposite wall from the sideboard stood a white marble fireplace with red tapestries on either side. A portrait of a dark-haired woman hung above the mantel.

  Miles seated Amber at one end of the long table and took his place at the opposite end. His gesture was significant. If he had been any farther away, the earl would have toppled out the window.

  “I trust you had a good rest,” Miles said, watching the majordomo pour the wine.

  “The bed is quite comfortable. My eyes closed as soon as my head touched the pillow.”

  “How unusual for a young lady to fall asleep so quickly in a strange house.”

  “I feel safer in your house than I ever did at my uncle’s.” Amber wished she could see the expression in his eyes.

  “That is surprising.”

  Amber gave him a rueful smile. “You do not know my uncle.”

  “If he is anything like Prince Rudolf, then—”

  “To liken Rudolf to Fedor is an insult to my cousin,” Amber interrupted, her tone mild, but with a bitter edge.

  “Your uncle did provide a home for you,” Miles reminded her. “Your dislike of the man does not make him cruel.”

  “Fedor Kazanov does not possess a kind bone in his body. He never gave me an encouraging word or spent a coin of his own on me.” Amber paused a long moment while Miles digested that. “Uncle Fedor locked Rudolf’s mother in an insane asylum when she had passed her childbearing days. She remained there for fifteen years until Rudolf rescued her.”

  Miles fell silent. Even the servants stood as if frozen, stunned expressions on their faces.

  “Have I shocked you?” she asked.

  Miles inclined his head. “I understand the reason you feel safer in my home.”

  Amber decided there was too much distance between the earl and her. She needed to get closer or he would never marry her.

  Summoning her courage, Amber stood and walked the length of the table. She sat in the chair on the earl’s right. From this angle, his face appeared uninjured.

  “I want to sit near you,” she said, by way of an explanation.

  His dark gaze met hers. “So I surmised.”

  The majordomo carried the princess’s plate, silverware, and glass the length of the table. He set them in front of her.

  “Thank you, Mister Just-Pebbles.”

  Miles smiled. “What did you call him?”

  “Mister Just-Pebbles. That is his name, is it not?”

  “Yes, Princess, that is his name,” Miles verified. “By the way, do you always get what you want?”

  “Nobody gets everything she wants.” Amber arched a perfectly shaped brow. “Do you see me as a pampered princess?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind,” Miles admitted, another smile flirting with his lips.

  “Your assumption would be incorrect,” Amber told him. “Uncle Fedor is not the cosseting type. I dislike shouting down the length of the table and need to see a person’s face when I converse. Why do you not eat?”

  “I prefer taking my meals alone.”

  “Why?”

  Miles toyed with his wineglass before answering.

  Amber dropped her gaze to his large hands with their long fingers. If he took her to wife, the earl would caress her naked flesh with those hands. That thought heated her by several degrees.

  “Eating is more comfortable without the mask,” Miles said.

  “Please remove your mask and eat with me.�
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  “If I did that, Your Highness, you would not eat for a month.”

  Amber stared at him for a long moment, carefully keeping her expression placid knowing he was watching her reaction to his words. She decided to ignore what he had said.

  “You may call me Amber,” she told him, sounding like a young queen granting a favor. “May I call you Miles?”

  He inclined his head.

  “If you take me to wife, Miles,” Amber said, lowering her voice so only he heard, “I will expect you to remove your mask and dine with me. Otherwise, you do me a disservice.”

  Miles stared into her violet gaze for a long moment. “I will keep that in mind, Amber. Tell me more about yourself.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I cannot believe a beautiful woman like you had no admirers.”

  “Well, there was one,” Amber admitted. “Count Sergei Pushkin and I have known each other since childhood, but his mother would never have approved a match between us. The circumstances surrounding my family prevented her from accepting me as her daughter-in-law.”

  “Do you love him?”

  Amber didn’t know what her feelings for Sergei were. She had always known they would never marry. Perhaps being childhood friends had prevented her from caring for Sergei romantically.

  “There are many different kinds of love,” Amber said, evading his unanswerable question. “Will I have duties to perform?”

  Miles gave her a look of amused speculation. “Where do your talents lie?”

  “I garden and bake.” Her pride in her accomplishments was evident. “I speak several languages and play the mandolin sweeter than birdsong.” She gave him an embarrassed smile. “I confess to being hopeless with numbers and sewing.”

  “Gardening and baking?” Miles echoed, his tone sardonic. “Twenty years old and already a famous housewife.”

  Her smile drooped. Was he insulting or teasing her?

  “I know you have gardeners and cooks.” Amber wished he would look at her instead of the woman in the portrait. “Perhaps you would like me to play the mandolin while you work at your desk. I would be happy—”

  Miles stood abruptly, silencing her, and stared down at her. “I would like you to leave me alone.” At that, he quit the dining room.

  Amber dropped her gaze to her plate. Why had he turned on her so suddenly? What had she done? The earl did not want to marry her, did not even want her here. She was wasting her time and should return to London.

  Setting her napkin on the table, Amber stood to leave the dining room. Then she realized the servants had witnessed it all. Humiliation stained her cheeks.

  “I apologize for upsetting your service,” Amber managed, her bottom lip trembling as she fought back tears. “Please give my compliments to the cook, Just-Pebbles. Tell Molly to come to my chamber in the morning to help me pack. Please secure a coach for my return to London.”

  “But, Your Highness—” the majordomo whined.

  Amber held a hand up in a gesture for silence. “His Lordship wants me gone. There is nothing to debate.”

  With her head held high, Amber left the dining room. Upstairs, she changed into her nightgown and then dragged her trunk out of the dressing room. She emptied the highboy and packed her belongings in the trunk, but left the gowns in the dressing room until morning. Then she slipped into bed, saddened by the thought that she would be leaving Arden Hall. The earl would mourn his wife until he died. She had not found a safe refuge. Her cousin had been mistaken about wrapping herself in pretty packaging.

  These Englishmen were odd. One moment the earl smiled at her, but the next moment he snapped like a dog.

  She did not want to pass her life with an unpredictable man. If she discounted the scarred side of his face, the earl was handsome, but his injury and the loss of his wife prevented him from moving forward with his own life.

  The earl needed her as much as she needed him. Too bad he could not see what was in front of him. She would have been a devoted wife until she died, but competing against a cherished memory would have been impossible. Her life could have been different if only she had been legitimate issue or publicly acknowledged by the czar.

  Amber thought of Fedor and Gromeko and what awaited her in Russia. She prayed Rudolf could find her a gentleman not only willing to marry her but brave enough to protect her from her uncle.

  It was a long time before Amber found release from her troubled thoughts in sleep.

  * * *

  The Earl of Stratford paced his bedchamber like a caged beast, his thoughts as troubled as his guest’s. By what right does she invade my privacy? She flutters those violet eyes at me and smiles like she bathed in sunshine every day. Her parents should have named her Princess Sunshine. He had not invited her to Arden Hall, yet the princess behaved as if she was an honored guest. That meddling Russian had given him no choice.

  How dare the princess barge into his home and dance around him with her sweet words and shy blushes and sunny smiles. Given a choice, she would never pick him for her husband, and he had no desire for a wife who cared nothing for him.

  His pacing brought him to the door connecting their chambers. Miles stared at it for a long time before donning his mask. He wanted to look at her beauty before she disappeared from his life.

  Miles opened the door and stepped inside the bedchamber. She had left the bed curtains open and a night candle burning on the bedside table. Noticing the trunk in the middle of the chamber, he inspected its contents and then approached the bed.

  Princess Amber looked even more beautiful in sleep. Her silver-blond hair was splayed across the pillow, and her pink lips were parted slightly.

  Miles felt a twinge of guilt. He had behaved badly and hurt her feelings, but he could not allow her to pry his heart open.

  Brenna lay in an early grave. That was enough of love for him.

  The princess had meant no harm, though. She had merely been charming him as any guest would.

  Miles reached to pull the coverlet up. One plump breast had escaped the nightgown’s skimpy bodice. His gaze drifted lower to her slender waist and the soft curve of her hip, the sheer material exposing her nakedness beneath the gown.

  An ache grew within him. Deep. Primal. Touching his soul.

  Longing filled him, a yearning to take her nipple between his lips—kissing, licking, sucking upon it. Awaken her with an insistent throbbing between her thighs. Bury himself deep within her moist softness.

  Steeling himself against temptation, Miles snuffed the night candle and slipped out of her chamber as quietly as he had slipped in. He decided to wait a few days before returning her to London.

  Chapter 3

  Lilacs scented the air. Amber awakened to their distinctive perfume, her favorite. Someone had snuffed her night candle and placed a vase of lilacs on the bedside table. A parchment lay beside the vase. Only two words had been written on it: Forgive me.

  A weight lifted from her heart. The earl’s pain had incited his outburst, and now he regretted his words. From this moment, she would remember that his situation demanded her patience. A handsome man in spite of his injuries, the earl attracted her. An aura of mystery surrounded him.

  He needed her.

  She needed him.

  He would protect her.

  She would heal his pain.

  Together, they would build a life and raise a dozen children. In time, love would blossom between them. All she needed to do was convince the earl to marry her.

  Amber took special care with her appearance. She chose a petal pink morning gown, because men adored women in pink, and brushed her hair away from her face, securing it at the nape of her neck with a pink ribbon.

  Inspecting herself in the cheval mirror, Amber pinched her cheeks for color. Then she left her bedchamber and walked to the dining room.

  “Good morning, Just-Pebbles,” Amber greeted the majordomo. She noted the earl’s absence and wondered where he was.

 
“Good morning, Your Highness.” The majordomo rushed forward and escorted her to the chair she had occupied the previous evening.

  A white rose and a red rose lay crossed on the table in front of her. She stared at them, a soft smile on her lips. “Are these for me?”

  “His Lordship left those before going for his morning ride,” Pebbles answered. “In the language of flowers, crossing white and red roses means unity.”

  “What do lilacs mean?”

  “Lilacs represent the first stirrings of love.” The majordomo smiled. “I hope you are hungry, Your Highness.”

  “I am famished.” A blush heated her face when she added, “You need not send Molly to pack my belongings.”

  At the sideboard Pebbles filled a plate with baked eggs, ham, and a roll with butter. He served her a cup of coffee but paused before returning to his position at the sideboard.

  “Your Highness, may I say how very pleased I am that you will be staying with us.”

  “Thank you, Just-Pebbles.”

  “The earl—”

  “What about me?” Miles asked, walking into the dining room.

  “Her Highness asked if you would be joining her for breakfast,” Pebbles said, and winked at her.

  Amber watched the earl crossing the room. She admired his broad shoulders tapering to a lean waist and his well-muscled thighs in the breeches he wore.

  Miles nodded to her and walked to the sideboard. He poured himself a cup of coffee and then joined her at the table.

  “Good morning, Amber.”

  “Good morning, Miles.”

  “I trust you slept well.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Amber gave him a shy smile. “Thank you for the flowers and the note of apology.”

  The earl registered surprise before shuttering his expression. He shifted his gaze to the majordomo.

  “I have forgotten the preserves,” Pebbles mumbled, and hurried out of the dining room.

  Amber dropped her gaze to her plate. The earl had not left her the flowers or the note of apology. His servants had felt sorry for her. They had meant well, but she despised being pitied.

  “A ruble for your thoughts,” Miles said, his tone teasing.