Beauty and the Earl Read online

  “That is correct.”

  “I will never leave my king unprotected again,” Amber said, thinking of her husband. Then she gave the other women a meaningful look.

  “Will you play chess with me?” Samantha asked. “I would appreciate your giving me pointers on my game.”

  “Yes, of course.” Terrence stood to stretch his legs. “I need a break for a few minutes, though.”

  “Where are you going?” Amber asked, her voice sounding overly loud in the quiet chamber.

  “I need to visit the water closet.”

  Amber bolted out of her chair. “I will go with you.”

  Terrence Pines looked at her, a shocked expression on his face. Samantha and Isabelle giggled. Amber glanced at the other men, including her husband, who were staring at her.

  Blushing, Amber laughed nervously and then amended herself. “I meant, I will walk with you. I forgot my embroidery in my chamber. I like to sew while I sit here.”

  Amber glanced at her husband. Miles wore a doubtful expression. He knew she was lying.

  Leaving the drawing room with Pines, Amber felt her husband’s gaze on her back. She hurried upstairs and grabbed her embroidery. Returning to the second floor, she paused to speak with Joseph and Albert, the footmen guarding the east wing’s entrance.

  “Pines tried to get past us once,” Joseph reported.

  “He sent Joseph on an errand before he realized there were two of us,” Albert added.

  That proved Pines had lost something incriminating in the fire. Amber wondered why he had not tried to retrieve it before. He must have felt secure as long as Miles lived a reclusive existence, but feared exposure if her husband decided to renovate because of acquiring a wife.

  “I thank you for your loyalty to His Lordship,” Amber said to the footmen. “You may leave at dark but return at first light.”

  Terrence Pines had already returned to the drawing room and was giving chess instruction to Samantha and Isabelle. Ignoring her husband, Amber sat on the settee and started to embroider a handkerchief.

  “I want to speak with you,” Miles whispered against her ear, surprising her. “Privately.”

  Amber turned her head to look at him and managed a smile. She followed him out of the drawing room, down the corridor, and into the library.

  “What are you doing?” Miles asked, rounding on her.

  Amber decided to play dumb. “I am speaking with you.”

  His expression said her answer did not make him especially happy. “Why are you women fawning over Terrence? What are you planning?”

  “I am merely becoming acquainted with your cousin.”

  “What about Samantha and Isabelle?”

  Amber shrugged. “I cannot speak for them.”

  Miles stared at her for an excruciatingly long moment. “Keep your secrets, then.” He smiled. “I almost feel sorry for Terrence.”

  Standing on tiptoes, Amber entwined her arms around his neck and pulled him toward her. She planted a kiss on his lips. “Trust me, husband. I would never keep any dark secrets from you.” Unless necessary to protect my king’s safety.

  * * *

  “The men are leaving.” Amber stood at the window in the drawing room the following afternoon.

  Isabelle and Samantha hurried across the room. The men were crossing the lawn in the direction of the woodland, their destination the Avon River and their planned activity, fishing. Which, Amber calculated, would allow two or three hours for searching the east wing.

  “You could be wrong about Terrence,” Isabelle said. “He seems more like a coward than a murderer.”

  “Lighting a fire while others sleep proves his cowardice,” Amber said. “Why are you carrying a reticule?”

  “If we find something,” Isabelle answered, “I can hide it in my reticule.”

  The three women left the drawing room and headed toward the east wing. They paused outside the door that led into the manor’s burned wing. Though four years had passed, the stagnant air still held the scent of smoke, and a melancholy atmosphere pervaded the soot-coated area.

  “Watch your step,” Amber warned, leading the way into the destruction.

  Samantha picked her way through the debris. “For what are we looking?”

  “Tinder and flint would prove the fire had been set,” Isabelle answered.

  After more than an hour of searching, Amber was becoming increasingly frustrated. She knew she wasn’t wrong about Pines. The proof of his guilt hid somewhere beneath the soot and destruction. No one committed a perfect murder.

  Amber leaned against a windowsill. Absently, she lifted a finger to wipe soot from the glass, allowing light into the room. A sunbeam glinted on an object lying on the floor near the window. It was a rectangular metal box. Amber lifted it up and opened the lid. Several Lucifer matches and a piece of sandpaper lay inside. A gentleman’s accoutrement.

  “Come here,” she called, wiping the box to reveal silver.

  All three stared at the box. The initials TP had been engraved on its cover.

  “My God, Terrence murdered for my brother’s title and lands,” Isabelle said in a horrified whisper.

  “Where did you find this?” Samantha asked.

  “I wiped the soot from this,” Amber answered, turning to the window. “Look, Pines is returning alone. What should we do?”

  “Pebbles, send a footman to fetch the men,” Isabelle called. “Hurry.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” they heard the majordomo answer from the corridor.

  “Pebbles loves eavesdropping,” Isabelle said. “Amber, you stand here and confront Terrence when he arrives.”

  She lifted a pistol out of her reticule. “Samantha and I will hide.”

  “Don’t worry.” Samantha lifted her skirt to draw a small but deadly-looking dagger from a sheath strapped to her leg.

  Isabelle and Samantha hurried across the chamber to hide along the wall behind the door. Shaking in fright, Amber held the silver matchbox and faced the door. Droplets of perspiration rolled down the crevice between her breasts. A noise in the corridor made her heartbeat quicken. The trembling in her hands picked up speed, her knees shook, her breath came in shallow gasps.

  And then the door opened.

  “What are you doing here?” Pines demanded.

  “Are you looking for this?” Amber held the matchbox up, keeping her gaze on him lest he realize the other two women were advancing on him.

  “I lost that in the fire.”

  Amber stepped back as he moved toward her. “You set the fire.”

  “What a pity that an exquisite piece of woman flesh should suffer a fatal accident,” Pines said, an unholy gleam in his eyes. “You will fall from the window behind you.”

  “I don’t think so.” Isabelle touched the back of his head with the pistol.

  Samantha touched his cheek with the tip of the dagger. “I don’t think so, either.”

  “Slowly lift your hands into the air and turn around,” Isabelle ordered. “Walk to the library. I’ll shoot if you try anything.”

  “Cousin Isabelle—”

  “Move.”

  With their prisoner in the lead, the three women followed him to the library. Pebbles met them there. Amber lifted a length of rope from the majordomo’s hands.

  “Tie his wrists together,” Isabelle instructed her.

  Amber stepped closer.

  In a flash of movement, Pines grabbed the rope out of her hand, wrapped it around her neck, and pulled hard. “Drop the pistol or I’ll strangle her.”

  Isabelle started to lower the pistol. At the same moment, Samantha leaped close and flicked the blade down his cheek.

  “You sliced me,” Pines screamed, blood spurting from his wound, releasing his captive to clutch his face.

  “How dare you touch a princess of Russia?” Spying an old broadsword mounted on the wall, Amber grabbed it and nearly toppled over from its weight. She intended to cleave the man in half for what he had done to her an
d her husband.

  “Prepare to burn in hell,” Amber said, struggling to lift the broadsword.

  “Stop.” Her husband stood in the doorway.

  Amber stopped, but the broadsword threatened to topple her backward. Miles reached her in time and easily lifted the sword out of her hands.

  “What the bloody hell is happening?” Miles demanded, as the other men crossed the room toward them.

  “Those bitches are trying to kill me,” Pines cried. “Look at my face.”

  “Samantha, my love, did you slice this man?” Prince Rudolf asked, laughter lurking in his voice.

  “He needed slicing.”

  The Duke of Avon lifted the pistol out of his wife’s hand. “Sweetheart, were you planning to shoot Cousin Terrence?”

  “I warned him not to move,” Isabelle explained, “but he wrapped the rope around the princess’s neck and tried to strangle her.”

  “Look what we found in the east wing,” Amber said, when her husband turned to her.

  Miles lifted her chin, inspected the bruising around her neck, and rounded on his cousin. “You did this to my wife?” There was no mistaking the deadly anger in his voice and expression.

  “You don’t understand,” Pines whined. “These bitches ambushed me.”

  “Look.” Amber shoved the silver matchbox into her husband’s hands. “This proves your cousin set the fire.”

  “She’s lying,” Pines insisted.

  Miles stared at the matchbox with the initials TP engraved on its cover. Lifting the lid, he saw the Lucifer matches and sandpaper. “Where did you get this?”

  Amber glared at his cousin before answering, “I found it in the east wing.”

  Miles passed the matchbox to his brother-in-law. “You went into the east wing after I forbade you to go there?”

  Amber dropped her mouth open in surprise. “You are not grateful that we discovered a murderer?”

  “Miles, you aren’t being fair,” Isabelle spoke up. “The princess worried—”

  “Stay out of my marriage,” Miles interrupted, silencing her. He looked at his wife. “My gratitude does not alter the fact that you disobeyed me.”

  For a few seconds, Amber was at a loss for words. Then she appealed to her cousin. “Rudolf—”

  “Do not complain to me,” the prince interrupted her. “Only yesterday you vowed obedience to your husband, and today you broke that vow.”

  Amber could not believe what she had heard. Rudolf always sided with her, no matter the circumstance.

  “We will discuss this later.” Miles glanced at his cousin. “I have a more pressing problem than your disobedience.”

  “What will you do? He deserves to die.”

  “You may leave now. Take the other ladies with you.”

  “Leave?”

  “We men will handle this now.”

  Amber narrowed her gaze on him but retreated when he cocked a brow at her. She turned on her heels and followed Isabelle and Samantha.

  After his wife had disappeared, Miles gave his cousin his full attention. Nobody said a word, for which he was thankful, knowing in his heart that his cousin had started the fire that killed Brenna. With the least bit of encouragement, Miles would finish the job the ladies had begun.

  “What do you say about this?” Miles held the matchbox up.

  “My face is bleeding,” his cousin whined.

  Miles stepped closer. Dangerously closer.

  “I know nothing about the fire,” Pines insisted.

  “Liar,” Prince Rudolf growled.

  “I swear I am innocent of any wrong doing.”

  Miles could not suppress his anguish. “You killed Brenna.”

  “Let us take him into the woods and shoot him,” Rudolf suggested. His three brothers nodded in agreement.

  “Disposing of his body will not be difficult,” Prince Viktor said.

  Miles stared at his cousin, trying to squelch the temptation to kill him. He whirled away and stared into the hearth.

  “You can’t seriously be considering this,” Pines wailed.

  Miles felt his brother-in-law’s hand on his shoulder. “No one would blame you.”

  “I cannot condone murder,” Miles said. “No matter how much he deserves to die.”

  “Execution is not murder,” Prince Stepan said.

  “Nevertheless, we will deliver Terrence to the magistrate in the morning.” Miles needed to get away from his cousin before he changed his mind.

  “The matchbox may not be enough for a conviction,” Prince Rudolf said.

  “A man needs to live with his own conscience,” Prince Mikhail said. “Let the earl decide for himself.”

  Miles turned to the prince. “Thank you for that.”

  “His existence threatens Amber and the child she could be carrying,” Rudolf argued.

  “Pebbles,” Miles called.

  Obviously eavesdropping, the majordomo rushed into the library. “Yes, my lord?”

  “Do we have a key for any of the top-floor chambers?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “I can’t bear to look at him.” Miles turned to Rudolf. “Will you and your brothers take him upstairs and lock him inside?”

  “I had nothing to do with the fire,” Pines defended himself as Viktor and Stepan yanked him out of the chair. “For God’s sake, I saved your life.”

  “I pulled the earl from the flames,” Pebbles corrected him. “You came to my aid after I had saved him.”

  With the majordomo leading the way, the four Russian princes dragged his protesting cousin out of the library. Once they had disappeared, Miles poured himself a whisky and downed it in one gulp.

  Wandering to the window, Miles stared out at the summer afternoon. The world looked the same as it had a few minutes earlier—shining sun, blooming flowers, chirping birds. All seemed different somehow, the past’s heartache rushing back to him in a wave of emotion. He almost wished his bride had stayed out of the east wing. Almost.

  “Your wounds are bleeding again,” the Duke of Avon said, grasping his shoulder.

  Miles reached up and touched his brother-in-law’s hand. “I cannot believe Terrence killed Brenna to inherit a title.”

  “All men are not honorable,” John said. “Don’t judge your wife too harshly. She was thinking of your welfare.”

  “If we had delayed a few minutes,” Miles said, a grudging smile touching the corners of his lips, “the ladies would have saved us the trouble of a trial. I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw Amber trying to lift that old broadsword. By the way, I didn’t know my sister carried a pistol.”

  “My mother taught her that little trick,” John admitted. “Carrying a large reticule means my mother is armed and dangerous.”

  “Can she or my sister shoot?”

  “Very well, thank you.”

  “Do you think Rudolf knew Samantha carried a dagger?”

  “The prince appeared more amused than surprised.”

  “I need to make peace with my wife.” Without another word, Miles left the library.

  * * *

  Amber paced back and forth in front of the drawing room’s hearth and fumed about her husband’s attitude. Instead of reprimanding her for disobedience, he should have praised her for ferreting out a murderer. The ingrate.

  “Is Pines dead?” she asked when her husband appeared. “He deserves to die.”

  Miles ignored her question. “Come with me.”

  Was that amusement in his eyes? Or anger at her disobedience?

  Amber gave him a disgruntled look. “Are you still angry?”

  Miles shuttered his expression. “We will discuss this behind closed doors.”

  Amber inclined her head and marched beside him down the corridor toward the stairs. Her husband was tall, his long-legged gait forcing her to take three steps for every one of his, conveying the unspoken message that he was in charge, not she.

  Inside her bedchamber, Amber rounded on him, her hands on her hips.
“What do you have to say to me?”

  Miles snaked his hands out to grasp her upper arms and yanked her against his unyielding frame. Dipping his head, he captured her lips in an urgent kiss as if he feared losing her. She slid her hands up his chest, looped her arms around his neck, and returned his kiss with equal passion.

  Their kiss ended as abruptly as it began.

  “If you ever pull another stunt like that,” Miles warned her, “I’ll take you across my knee.”

  “What does stunt mean?” Amber asked, confused. “Why would you take me across your knee? Is that a new—you know—position?”

  Miles closed his eyes and swallowed his laughter. So much for husbandly discipline.

  “Sit here,” he said, guiding her to the bed.

  Amber sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him expectantly. Miles sat beside her and put his arm around her, drawing her close.

  “Darling, you did a very foolish thing today,” he told her. “Terrence could have murdered you, too. You should have voiced your concerns and allowed me to investigate.”

  Trying to appear contrite, Amber touched her bruised neck in an unspoken reminder that she had been injured on his behalf. “I promise never to do anything like this again.”

  Miles studied her for a long moment as if doubting her words. “Why did you suspect Terrence? You never met him before yesterday.”

  “He would have gained by your dying without an heir,” Amber answered. “His presence on the night of the fire combined with the expression in his eyes shouted his guilt.”

  “What expression?”

  “I recognized his hatred.”

  Miles gave her an indulgent smile. “Sweetheart, how could you see what no one else saw?”

  “Rudolf saw it, too.”

  Miles appeared confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “Rudolf and I have experience with hate,” Amber tried to explain.

  “How could anyone possibly dislike you?” Miles asked, holding her close. “You are an angel.”

  “Thank you, my husband.”

  “You are welcome, my wife.”

  “I promise never to do anything so foolish again.” Unless absolutely necessary.

  Chapter 11

  A long shrill scream pierced the night.

  Amber opened her eyes, uncertain of what had awakened her. Miles sat on the edge of the bed and donned his mask.