Beauty and the Earl

by Patricia Grasso

  After donning his mask, Miles walked downstairs alone instead of escorting Amber to dinner. The room was empty except for Pebbles and a footman.

  “Your sherry, my lord.”

  Miles took the glass but said nothing.

  “Will Her Highness be joining you for dinner?”

  “Her Highness always dines with me, doesn’t she?” His voice was sharp.

  “I apologize,” Pebbles drawled, narrowing his gaze on him. “I ask because Her Highness usually accompanies you.”

  Miles knew he was behaving unreasonably. “There is no need to apologize.”

  “Yes, I know,” Pebbles said, his tone haughty. “I am the man who saved your life.”

  “Sometimes I wish you had let me burn,” Miles snapped, shocking the majordomo and the footman.

  Amber walked into the dining room at that moment. She nodded at the majordomo. Her expression said she had heard her husband.

  “Your son and I are famished,” Amber said, ignoring his failure to escort her to dinner.

  Miles gave her a sidelong glance. “How do you know you carry a boy?”

  “Woman’s intuition.”

  That almost made him smile. Almost.

  Dismissing the footman, Pebbles served them himself. After setting the deviled rump steaks and stuffed tomatoes on the table, he filled their glasses and retreated to the sideboard.

  “Caroline isn’t joining us?” Miles asked.

  “She ate earlier.’

  “Why?”

  Amber looked him straight in the eye. “We need to discuss what happened today.”

  Miles sat back in his chair and stared at her. He wanted to discuss the reason she could not tell the Russian she loved her husband.

  He saw her hesitate. Searching for words? Or courage?

  Amber dropped her gaze to his hand holding the wineglass. Miles knew the moment she realized he wasn’t wearing the czar’s ring. A little pain now would save them more pain later, he told himself.

  Amber lifted her gaze to his. “You are not wearing the ring.”

  Miles glanced at his hand, steeling himself against the hurt in her expression. “Ah, yes, I misplaced it.”

  Amber set her napkin on the table. “You will excuse me, please.” Her tone was formal and much too polite.

  “You haven’t finished dinner. Where are you going?”

  “I cherished that ring as a token of my father’s love,” Amber said, rounding on him. “And you cavalierly tell me it is missing?”

  Miles dismissed her anger with a wave of his hand. “The ring is in my bedchamber.”

  “The important point is where the ring is not. On your finger.” Amber left the dining room.

  In misery, Miles watched her go. He had not wanted to hurt her feelings, but he would not beg for love from his own wife. The love he wanted from her belonged to another man. He gestured Pebbles to refill his wine glass.

  The majordomo served him the wine. “Congratulations, my lord. You have just hurt the best thing that ever happened to you.”

  Miles turned his head to look at the older man. “You forget your place, Pebbles.”

  “I forget nothing.”

  “Since when does a majordomo question his employer’s personal life?”

  Pebbles cocked a brow at him. “Since the majordomo saved the employer’s life, and the employer insists on behaving like an arse.”

  Miles couldn’t argue with that. “If the countess asks,” he said, standing to leave, “tell her I am meeting with the Duke of Avon.”

  * * *

  Thinking about her husband, Amber climbed the stairs to her bedchamber. She wished Sergei had never come to England. What had she done to provoke her husband’s anger? Hadn’t she refused Sergei’s invitation to return to Moscow and marry him? Now she faced the unenviable task of persuading her husband to believe in her love.

  Amber had chosen her husband and rejected her father’s offer of acknowledgment, something she had desired her whole life. She had done so without hesitation or regret. Couldn’t Miles see how much she valued him? Why did he avoid discussing his feelings? How could she reassure him of her love if he refused to speak about it?

  A knock sounded on the door, drawing her attention. “Enter.”

  The majordomo appeared. “His Lordship asked me to tell you that he has gone to meet with the Duke of Avon.”

  ‘“Thank you, Just-Pebbles.”

  The majordomo smiled. “You are welcome, Your Highness.”

  Amber paced the bedchamber and wondered what to do. Not for the first time, she wished she could speak with a more experienced woman. And then she thought of her sister-in-law’s words to her on her wedding day. Be patient with my brother. He needs you.

  Miles did not love her. That much was true. At least, he had never professed such feelings for her. He had behaved like a devoted husband, though. She had been content, believing their child would bring them closer.

  Amber stood at the connecting door to her husband’s chamber. Should she sleep in his bed or not? She saw no reason to change their custom of sleeping together. After all, he had not forbidden her to sleep in his bed.

  How long could a man remain angry with the woman who carried his child and shared his bed? If the woman was nearly naked . . .

  Amber changed into her sheerest nightgown and slipped into her husband’s bed. She lay awake for hours, waiting for his return, but her courage failed her in the end.

  Hearing the door open, Amber snapped her eyes shut and feigned sleep. In a moment her husband would undress and slip into bed. Then she would cuddle against him, seeking his body heat, and by sunrise his anger would have vanished.

  Amber heard him crossing the chamber to the bed. Silence. Then she heard his footsteps retreating. She opened her eyes in time to see him disappear into her chamber.

  Her husband did not want to sleep with her.

  Amber hid her face against the pillow and wept quietly.

  * * *

  Awakening in the morning, Amber decided to speak to Miles that day. If she needed to force the issue, then so be it. She would not weep for him again, nor would the sun set without a discussion of what had transpired the previous day.

  She hurried downstairs to the dining room, determined to settle what was between them. She hoped to catch Miles before he went riding or buried himself in his study.

  Unfortunately, the dining room was deserted except for the majordomo. Which meant she would need to interrupt the earl if he had gone to his study.

  “Is His Lordship riding or working?” she asked the majordomo.

  “Working.”

  Finishing her breakfast, Amber read the society gossip column to see if it mentioned Fedor. Then she went to her husband’s study. She hesitated at the door, her insecurities surfacing like an old friend. Would Miles be in a receptive mood? Probably not.

  She should have planned what to say. But if she left now, her courage might fail her later. She tapped on the door and then entered without invitation. Her husband and two of his clerks were conferring. All three men stood at her entrance.

  “I apologize for intruding.” Amber backed toward the door. “I will speak with you later.”

  Miles inclined his head.

  Leaving Caroline with Nanny Smart in the garden, Amber returned to the study early in the afternoon. She had hoped to see Miles at lunch, but he never appeared.

  Amber stared at the closed door. Her courage failed her. She started back down the corridor but, hearing the door open, whirled around.

  The majordomo hurried toward her and handed her a slip of paper. “From His Lordship.”

  Amber unfolded the note and read: Opera tonight. Eight o’clock. Anger surged through her. How dare he speak to her through notes?

  “Is there a reply?”

  “I will deliver it myself.”

  Walking back to the study, Amber swung the door open with a crash and marched toward her husband’s desk. She tossed the note at him. “Wha
t is the meaning of this?”

  Miles stared at her for a moment. “I sent you a reminder of tonight’s schedule.”

  “I am no idiot and can read the damn thing,” Amber said. “You have avoided me for two days.”

  “You misunderstand.”

  “I am your wife.” Her voice rose in proportion to her anger. “You will not send me notes, you will not avoid speaking to me, and you will not treat me with disrespect. Do you understand?”

  Smothered laughter sounded behind her.

  Amber whirled around to see her oldest cousin sitting in a high-backed chair. “What do you find so amusing?”

  Rudolf grinned. “You.”

  Amber did not know what to reply to that. Her cousin had defused her angry righteousness.

  “Rudolf received this today,” Miles said, drawing her attention.

  Amber took the letter from him and sat in a chair. Prince Fedor Kazanov demanded that Rudolf send her home. Her uncle had made an excellent match for her, and Rudolf had no legal right to interfere.

  “Does this mean Fedor is not in London?” she asked.

  Miles shrugged. “Appearances can be deceptive.”

  “Though encouraged, we agree that caution is needed.” Rudolf looked from Amber to Miles and then grinned. “I will leave you to your discussion.”

  Miles looked at her, his face an expressionless mask. “I am listening to you now.”

  “I want to know the reason you have been avoiding me. If this is because of Sergei—”

  “I have been conducting business, not avoiding you.”

  Amber knew he was lying. “You did not sleep beside me last night.”

  “You looked too peaceful to disturb,” Miles said, his gaze skittering away from hers.

  If he thought she looked peaceful, her husband needed spectacles. “I want to know the real reason you no longer want to sleep beside me.”

  Miles ran a hand through his hair. “I do want to sleep beside you, but Pushkin’s marriage proposal alters our situation.”

  “I do not know why it should,” Amber said. “I chose you, not Sergei or my father’s acknowledgment.”

  His gaze on her softened. “One day you may feel differently about refusing your father,” Miles said. “Would you have chosen me if you weren’t carrying my child?”

  “Do you doubt me?”

  “I believe you may be confused. I am giving you the opportunity to reconsider your feelings.”

  “I know my own feelings. Do you know yours?”

  Chapter 13

  He loved her. Miles knew damn well what he felt, and loving the princess did not make him especially happy. No matter the emotional distance he had put between them, he had not prevented himself from falling in love. How could he protect himself from heartache?

  Amber did not really love him. He was certain of that. It was impossible that she could love him. But, what if she did?

  Keeping his distance from her was proving much too difficult and could cost him what he craved most. Amber was his wife and carried his baby. He would not give her up without a fight.

  Miles slid his arms into his black dresscoat. He donned his mask and inspected himself in the cheval mirror. Tonight would be his first public appearance in more than four years. He wondered what society would think of his masked countenance.

  Miles knocked on the connecting door to his wife’s bedchamber and walked inside without waiting for permission. He had never seen a more beautiful woman. Her silver-blond hair was woven into a knot at the nape of her neck, and she wore a violet silk gown, its neckline rounded, its shoulder sleeves puffed. Matching slippers, long evening gloves, and reticule completed her outfit.

  Miles lifted her hand to his lips. “You are exquisite.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “No. Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  “There is no reason for nervousness,” Miles said, guiding her toward the door. “We make a handsome couple.”

  The coach ride to the Royal Opera House was short. They arrived in front of the theater at the same time as Rudolf and Samantha.

  “Brace yourself,” Miles whispered, noting his wife’s anxious expression.

  The two couples entered the theater. Almost instantly, those operagoers loitering in the lobby turned their interested gazes on them.

  Miles sensed Amber inching closer. He gave her an intimate smile and slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. Though he nodded at several people, Miles kept moving toward the staircase leading to the opera boxes.

  “Brace yourself again,” he whispered.

  Operagoers in the other boxes noted their entrance. All eyes turned in their direction. Ladies raised their lorgnettes for a better view.

  And then someone clapped. Others joined in.

  Damn idiots. Miles made a show of acknowledging their approval by bowing to them. He gestured to Amber, who smiled at their audience and inclined her head.

  “I wish I had worn my crown,” she whispered, making her husband smile.

  “Montgomery, if your entertainment is finished,” Rudolf drawled, “perhaps we could watch the opera.”

  Sitting between Miles and Samantha, Amber felt satisfied by the way their evening was proceeding. In spite of his denial, her husband had been nervous. That his peers not only accepted him but also admired him for his sacrifice pleased her.

  Amber knew the evening was young, though. She tried not to think of the emotional consequences if something went wrong.

  “How are you feeling, cousin?”

  Amber turned in her chair. Prince Stepan had entered the opera box and sat behind her. “Good evening, Stepan.”

  “Rudolf told me the happy news about the baby,” Stepan said, and shook her husband’s hand. “Miss Fancy Flambeau will be singing the part of Cherubino in tonight’s opera. Watch for her.”

  “I would like to meet Miss Flambeau,” Amber said. “She must be a special lady to have earned your admiration.”

  “Fancy will be performing later in the week at Samantha’s uncle’s ball,” Stepan told her. “I believe you met the Duke of Inverary before going to Stratford.”

  “We will look forward to meeting Miss Flambeau,” Miles said.

  Amber had expected the object of her cousin’s affection to be buxom like most other opera singers, but the opposite proved true. Miss Fancy Flambeau was a petite dark-haired woman with a startlingly strong voice.

  Engrossed in the opera and the woman’s near-perfect voice, Amber felt uncomfortable suddenly. Her skin prickled, and the fine hairs on the nape of her neck rose like hackles. An uncanny feeling of being watched surged through her, making her heart beat faster.

  Amber glanced around. No one appeared to be paying her any particular attention. She would definitely scan the crowd at intermission, though.

  Miles leaned close. “Are you ill?”

  “I feel fine.” Amber managed a smile for him.

  “You seem uncomfortable.”

  “A little queasy, nothing more.”

  Princes Viktor and Mikhail appeared in the opera box the moment intermission began, drawing her attention from scanning the crowded theater. Both cousins kissed her cheek and shook her husband’s hand.

  “Congratulations on the baby,” Prince Viktor said.

  “Impending motherhood seems to agree with you,” Prince Mikhail added.

  Amber blushed. “I am happy and content. Where has Stepan gone?”

  Mikhail rolled his eyes. “Stepan feared some other gallant would reach Miss Flambeau’s dressing room first.”

  “Unfortunately for him, Miss Flambeau never sees anyone during intermission,” Viktor added. “He is guarding a closed door.”

  “Where is Princess Adele?” Amber asked. “I had hoped to meet her.”

  “Adele had other plans for this evening,” Viktor answered.

  “Will she attend the Duke of Inverary’s ball?”

  Viktor shrugged. “I have absolutely no idea what Adele will
do from one moment to the next.”

  “I advised you not to marry her,” Rudolf spoke up.

  “Rudolf,” Samantha whispered, a warning note in her voice.

  Viktor ignored his oldest brother. He turned to Mikhail, saying, “We should be off.”

  Two gentlemen walked into the opera box, passing the princes on their way out. One was Sergei Pushkin and the other a stranger.

  Amber felt her heart sink. She wished her old friend would go away. Permanently. His presence in London was ruining her marriage. He must realize she would never leave her husband. Why did he not return to Moscow and move forward with his life?

  Amber flicked a sidelong glance at Miles. He did not appear especially happy.

  Sergei would have had to be dead to miss their displeasure. He ignored it. “Princess, may I make known to you Baron Igor Slominsky, a fellow countryman.”

  The baron was an attractive man with angular features, black hair, and piercing blue eyes.

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Amber said, forcing a smile. “My husband, the Earl of Stratford.”

  “You look more beautiful than ever,” Sergei said. “The color of your gown matches your eyes perfectly.”

  Amber made no reply. She willed Sergei to be gone. She disliked the thought of hurting her oldest friend, but she would do it if necessary.

  “I wonder if we might ride together in Hyde Park one morning,” Sergei said, ignoring her husband.

  Was he intent on ruining her marriage? If so, then he was no friend of hers. “That will be impossible,” Amber refused. “If I were to ride with anyone, I would choose my husband to ride with me.”

  Baron Slominsky made the mistake of insinuating himself into the conversation. “Surely, your husband would not object to your spending an hour with an old friend?”

  “My husband would never object to my having friends,” Amber said, intending to shock her old friend into leaving her alone. “My husband does object to endangering our first child. My sojourns to Hyde Park will be done from within the safety of a coach in the company of women who can advise me about babies and childrearing.”

  Both Sergei and Baron Slominsky dropped their startled gazes to her body. Sergei appeared ready to explode, but the baron recovered his composure.