Beauty and the Earl

by Patricia Grasso

“Princess, do not cry,” Gromeko said, his tone soothing. Gently, he led her toward the table. “You must eat now. I promise you will have your baby. You will have many babies and make me a wealthy man.”

  Anger surged through Amber. She would die before accepting this fate. In a flash of movement, she swiped the breakfast tray off the table.

  The door opened at the same moment the tray and its contents hit the floor. Fedor Kazanov stood in the doorway, fury etched across his face.

  “You stupid, worthless slut,” her uncle shouted, crossing the chamber toward her.

  Fedor raised his hand. Gromeko grabbed his arm, preventing the strike.

  “Do not forget your niece belongs to me,” Gromeko warned. “If you touch her, I will kill you.” The count turned to her, ordering, “You will sit here, Princess. Now.”

  Amber sat.

  Fedor placed parchment and quill on the table in front of her. “You will tell Montgomery that you are returning to Moscow with Sergei and want the czar’s acknowledgment.”

  “I will not do that,” Amber refused, folding her hands on her lap. “My husband will search for me, and when he finds me, he will kill you.”

  “If Montgomery finds you, I will kill him,” Gromeko threatened. “Do you wish to cause his death?”

  Amber stared at the parchment and quill. Her husband had known more than his share of suffering. She could not risk his life. Writing the note did not preclude escaping what Gromeko had planned for her.

  With an idea forming in her mind, Amber drew the parchment toward her and lifted the quill. Cousin Rudolf had taught her Germanic runes so they could secretly communicate. She would use that knowledge now and pray that her husband showed her cousin the note.

  Amber wrote the message Gromeko dictated. Then she affixed her name, adding four scribbles beneath her signature.

  “What is this?” Fedor asked, lifting the note from the table.

  Amber looked where he pointed. “I have a habit of scribbling when finished writing.”

  Gromeko looked at the note. “Send a courier to deliver this to Montgomery.”

  Alone with the count, Amber sat perfectly still and stared into space. She sensed him moving closer and prayed he would not touch her.

  “How beautiful you are,” Gromeko whispered against her ear.

  Amber froze at his closeness. She shut her eyes against the feeling of him stroking the back of her head.

  “You need not fear mistreatment,” he told her. “I wish to tell you about your mate.”

  Amber looked straight ahead. “Miles Montgomery is my mate.”

  “My stud is a big handsome man,” Gromeko said, ignoring her words. “I have watched him mating with my female slaves, and even the most reluctant soon cry out in pleasure. His seed is potent and, from this moment, reserved exclusively for you.

  “You will enjoy a pampered life and want for nothing. Indeed, you could grow fat from indolence and pregnancy.

  “Who knows? When you are with child, I may take you into my bed. I can be a skillful and generous lover.”

  Amber turned her head to look at him, a murderous gleam in her eyes. “I prefer coughing up blood.”

  * * *

  Miles sat in the dining room at his Berkeley Square mansion. Ignoring the cup of coffee on the table in front of him, he stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. His rioting emotions made him feel ill, as if he had been severely beaten.

  The morning routine progressed as if nothing had happened. Everything seemed different, though. How could the servants perform their usual tasks when the woman he loved had deserted him? Why hadn’t the earth stopped spinning?

  He felt worse about the loss of Amber than the loss of his late wife. The happiness the princess had brought into his life had been more intense because of the misery he’d known after Brenna’s death.

  “My lord?”

  Miles turned his head to look at the majordomo.

  “I urge you to search for the princess,” Pebbles said. “Do not let her return to Russia.”

  “Go away,” Miles growled.

  “Would the princess have stolen those perfumed letters if she didn’t care for you?”

  “Her Highness was playing a game,” Miles said. “When given a choice, she preferred an unscarred husband, a man who does not need to wear a mask lest his face frighten the unaware.”

  “Her Highness does not see your scars.”

  A knock on the dining room door drew their attention. The majordomo crossed the room, lifted a parchment from a footman’s hand, and closed the door again.

  Pebbles passed Miles the letter. Then he stood nearby, refusing to leave his employer alone in his hour of need.

  Miles stared at the sealed parchment and then opened it. He read:

  I regret that I have changed my mind about returning to Moscow. The czar’s acknowledgment means everything to me. I plan to marry Sergei and hope you will forgive me.

  Amber.

  Beneath her name, the princess had written four scribbles. He assumed that was her name in the Russian alphabet.

  Miles folded the note and pocketed it. He planned to keep it forever as a reminder of her betrayal. He would never trust another woman. “Pour me a whisky,” he ordered.

  “My lord, the morning is hardly—”

  “Damn it, man. Get me a whisky, and bring the bottle.”

  Pebbles placed a shot glass and a bottle of whisky on the table. Then he retreated to the sideboard to watch his employer get drunk.

  Miles gulped the whisky down in one swig and poured another. He would remain in London and make the rounds with Georgiana, Sarah, and Vanessa.

  Amber read the Times every morning and would read about his social activities. She would believe he had never cared about her, the same way she had never cared for him.

  “Instruct the servants to start unpacking,” Miles said. “Send a message to my barrister that I want him in my office this afternoon.” He stood to leave the dining room. “Tell him it is urgent that I file for divorce and serve her the documents before she leaves for Moscow.”

  “But my lord—”

  “Bring Caroline to my office in thirty minutes.”

  Miles went directly to his office and sat at his desk. What the bloody hell was he going to tell Caroline? The princess was hurting his innocent daughter, and that was beyond forgiveness.

  Thirty minutes later, Pebbles opened the office door for Caroline. The little girl ran across the room to her father.

  “Good morning, Daddy.”

  Miles managed a smile and pulled her onto his lap.

  “Good morning, Caro.” He put his arms around her as if to protect her from his words. “I want to speak with you about something serious. Can I do that?”

  Caroline nodded, her expression expectant.

  “Little girls and little boys have little problems,” Miles told her. “Big girls and big boys have big problems.” He paused a moment and then continued, “Sometimes adults have divided loyalties that cannot be reconciled. Do you understand?”

  Caroline shook her head.

  “Let me begin again,” Miles said. “Mummy needed to return to Russia, where she lived before. Her daddy is sick and wants to see her before he goes to heaven.”

  “Mummy is gone?” Caroline cried.

  Miles could not speak through the lump of emotion in his throat. Pain constricted in his chest, making breathing difficult. He reminded himself to remain calm for his daughter’s sake.

  “Mummy felt bad about leaving you without saying good-bye,” he said. “Mummy loves you very, very much.”

  “Will Mummy come home after her daddy goes to heaven?”

  “I am sorry, but Mummy will never return to us.”

  Caroline buried her head against her father’s chest and wept. “I want Mummy. I love her.”

  Miles held her close. “I love Mummy, too.”

  And then the Earl of Stratford wept with his daughter.

  Chapter 17
r />   Amber looked out the window. The chamber faced the garden. If she called for help, would anyone hear her? Gromeko would silence her before anyone could guess the whereabouts of the cry. That left only the choice of climbing down the oak tree from three stories up. She needed a gown to wear before she could do that.

  Amber lay on the bed. Even now, Miles would be searching for her. She hoped he would think of Sergei Pushkin and Baron Slominsky.

  At the lunch hour, Amber heard the door being unlocked. Gromeko entered and set the tray on the table.

  “I wish you would eat,” he said before leaving. “Consider the health of the babe you carry.”

  Amber knew the count was right. She needed to eat or her baby would suffer. She ate the soup and a slice of bread. After eating, she wandered to the window and looked down. The ground seemed very far away. She could not escape wearing her chemise. Or could she? If she slipped and fell, her baby would die, and she was not ready to chance that. Yet.

  Amber lay on the bed again. She would wait a while longer for her husband to rescue her.

  At the dinner hour Amber heard the door being unlocked. She assumed the count was serving her dinner but refused to look at him.

  “Good evening, Princess.” The voice belonged to Sergei.

  Amber rolled over and rose from the bed. Advancing on him, she recognized the desire couched in his gaze.

  “You betrayed me.”

  “My family needs money,” Sergei said. “I had intended to make you my mistress.”

  “You said you loved me,” she reminded him. “You loved me so much you wanted to make babies with me.”

  “I spoke truthfully and would have made babies with you,” Sergei told her. “Unfortunately, I could not offer marriage to an unacknowledged bastard.”

  “You are the bastard, not I.”

  Sergei stepped closer. “Your husband consoled himself by passing the night in Vanessa Stanton’s bed.”

  “Liar.” Amber slapped him so hard his head jerked to the right.

  Sergei snaked his hands out to grab her and yank her against his body. “You are already with child. Gromeko will not complain if I sample what should have been mine.”

  Sergei captured her mouth in a bruising kiss. Amber bit his lip.

  “Bitch.” Sergei slapped her hard and shoved her away. Amber landed on her rump.

  “Help!”

  Gromeko was there in an instant. He looked from Sergei to Amber and the red imprint of a hand on her cheek.

  “If he comes near me again,” Amber warned the count, “I will kill him, and then I will take my own life.”

  Gromeko flicked a wrist at Sergei, ordering him to leave. The baron lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. “Pushkin will not bother you again.” Then he left the room.

  Amber turned her face into the pillow and wept.

  * * *

  How would he explain his wife’s absence?

  Donning his mask and grabbing his cravat, Miles crossed the bedchamber to the cheval mirror. He tied the cravat with the nimbleness of a man who had performed that minor task thousands of times. At the moment, he would have preferred hanging himself with the cravat rather than tying it for a night out.

  If anyone asked, he would say his wife was resting at home. Her delicate condition, you know.

  Leaving his bedchamber, Miles went to check on Caroline, who had been inconsolable all day. His daughter was sobbing in her sleep. He kissed her forehead, and she quieted for a moment. He would never forgive the princess for hurting his daughter so badly. Would she ever recover from losing two mothers?

  Stopping in the foyer, Miles sorted through the pile of invitations that had arrived during the day. He selected three and turned to leave.

  Pebbles blocked his path to the door. “My lord, I urge you to—”

  “Get out of my way.” His expression and tone told the older man not to argue.

  “As you wish, my lord.” Pebbles stepped aside but muttered as he passed, “And may God have mercy on your conscience.”

  A short time later, Miles stood at the top of the stairs at the home of the Earl and Countess of Malton. He nodded at the majordomo and pasted a smile onto his face.

  “The Earl of Stratford,” the Malton majordomo announced.

  Miles started down the stairs and was immediately surrounded by friends and other well-wishers. No one asked about Amber, a nobody princess from a nowhere country. After ten minutes, he broke free from the group and began circulating.

  And then Miles spied Georgiana Devon. She wore an emerald green gown, cut so low it barely covered her nipples.

  “I see you’ve lost the princess,” Georgiana said.

  “I was hoping to see you tonight,” Miles said. “Shall we dance?”

  Georgiana inclined her head, stepped onto the dance floor, and into his arms. “Where is she tonight?”

  “My wife is feeling under the eaves,” he answered. “Her delicate condition, you know. Where is Grover Dalrymple?”

  Georgiana laughed throatily. “I do believe Grover had other plans for the evening.”

  When the music ended, Miles escorted her off the dance floor. He lifted her hand to his lips. “I regret I have another engagement but will call upon you soon.”

  “I will look forward to that, my lord.”

  His next stop was the home of the Earl and Countess of Lynton. As he had done earlier, Miles pasted a smile on his face and walked down the stairs into the crush of aristocrats.

  He saw Sarah Pole almost immediately. She smiled when he walked in her direction.

  “Sarah, I hoped to see you tonight.” Miles lifted her hand to his lips, and his dark gaze fixed on the generous cleavage bared by the cut of her ruby gown.

  “Where is the princess?” Sarah asked.

  “I would much prefer to dance with you than discuss my wife.”

  Sarah inclined her head and stepped onto the dance floor. Miles pulled her close as they began to swirl around the ballroom.

  “If I hadn’t met Brenna,” he told her, “I would have offered for you.”

  “We were good together, weren’t we?’

  Miles managed a smile and inclined his head. At waltz’s end, he escorted her off the dance floor. “I regret I have another engagement, but I would like to call upon you soon.”

  “I would love to entertain you.”

  The home of the Earl and Countess of Worcester was his final destination. As he had done at the previous two balls, Miles smiled at the world and mingled with society. His face was beginning to hurt from forcing smiles he didn’t feel.

  “I see you have come to your senses,” Vanessa Stanton said, sidling up to him.

  Miles looked at her. She was a vision in white silk, her gown nearly transparent, and her nipples almost visible. Her rouged nipples, if he wasn’t mistaken.

  “You are drooling, my lord,” she purred.

  “I am imagining,” he parried.

  “Why limit yourself to imagining when you can experience.”

  “Unfortunately, I have another engagement,” Miles said. “I will call upon you to discuss an important matter.”

  “You do not need a reason to call upon me,” Vanessa said. “What did you wish to discuss?”

  Miles dropped his gaze to her breasts. “I believe it was something about a stallion and a mare.”

  “I will enjoy that particular discussion.”

  “Until then.”

  Within minutes, Miles sat alone in his coach for the return ride to Berkeley Square. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and decided that he should be feeling a certain measure of satisfaction. Why the bloody hell did he feel worse?

  * * *

  I need to save myself. Amber awakened in the morning, determined to escape. She would not wait for Miles to rescue her. If she could get away on her own, her husband would be in no danger.

  The villains would never suspect what she planned if she pretended obedience. On the other hand, she should not arou
se their suspicions by overplaying her role.

  Amber heard the door being unlocked. Gromeko entered, carrying a tray with her breakfast.

  “Good morning, Princess. I hope you slept well.”

  Amber ignored him. She crossed the chamber and sat at the table to eat her breakfast.

  “I am pleased that you are not starving yourself,” Gromeko said, watching her eat. When she made no reply, he turned to leave.

  “Gromeko.” Amber looked over her shoulder at him. “I need something warmer to wear. Will you bring me a dress? Pink, I think. And matching ribbons for my hair.”

  Amber tried to sound as stupid as possible. If the count believed she was concerned with gowns and ribbons, he would never imagine she planned to escape.

  Count Gromeko stared at her for a long moment, as if considering her request. “I will see what I can do.”

  Hours later, Gromeko returned with her lunch tray. He carried a gown and a shawl slung over his arm.

  “I apologize for the lack of pink,” the count said. “You will forgive me for choosing a gown and a shawl to match your violet eyes.”

  Amber willed herself to blush. “I forgive you.” She lifted the gown and the shawl from his hand. “Oh, you have forgotten the ribbons.”

  “I will bring you the ribbons at dinner,” he said. “If you cooperate and eat your lunch.”

  Much to her mortification, Count Gromeko insisted on playing the lady’s maid. He helped her into the gown, brushing his fingertips across the upper swell of her breasts, and then fastened the buttons. Finally, he wrapped the cashmere shawl around her shoulders.

  “You are exquisite,” the count said, his voice husky. “I believe I am jealous of my own stud. He will be pleased with the gift I bring him and, I am certain, will perform most admirably. I will watch you mate and pretend that I am the one riding you.”

  Revulsion and embarrassment mingled in Amber. She had never heard anyone speak so shockingly. She made no reply but moved to the table, sat down, and began to eat.

  When the count turned to leave, she forced herself to say, “Will you sit with me while I eat?”

  Gromeko inclined his head and returned to the table.

  “What will happen to my husband’s child?”