Beauty and the Earl Page 15

  “What is it?” she asked, placing the palm of her hand against his back.

  Miles glanced over his shoulder at her. “I don’t know.” He pulled his breeches up and reached for his robe. “Go back to sleep.”

  “I am going with you.” Amber scrambled off the bed and donned her bedrobe.

  Clutching the night candle, Miles headed for the door. Amber walked a step behind him. John and Isabelle, along with Rudolf and Samantha, stood at the top of the stairs.

  “You heard that, too?” Miles asked, turning to walk up the stairs to the third floor. “Do you think it was Terrence?”

  “The scream came from outside,” John said.

  The three couples hurried downstairs to the foyer and then outside to the courtyard. Following voices, they walked around the mansion to see a small crowd. Pebbles and several footmen stood in a circle and stared at something on the ground.

  New voices sounded behind them. Amber looked around to see her three cousins, wrapped in bedrobes, hurrying toward them.

  The footmen stepped back so the earl could see what held their attention. On the ground lay the lifeless body of Terrence Pines.

  Amber shifted her gaze to her husband, who turned toward her cousins. Before he could speak, the princes held their hands up in a gesture of innocence.

  The Duke of Avon crouched down to inspect the body. “His neck is broken.”

  “Terrence must have been trying to escape,” Rudolf said, staring at the top floor window.

  “God’s will be done,” Pebbles said.

  “Amen,” said Princes Viktor, Mikhail, and Stepan.

  Amber peeked at Rudolf, who actually winked at her. And she knew. Her cousins had executed Pines by tossing him out the upper-floor window.

  She touched her husband’s arm. “The Lord punished his crime and saved us from scandal.”

  “Who are we to question God’s wisdom?” Miles turned to the footmen, instructing, “Wrap the body in a sheet and place him in the old chapel until morning.”

  Everyone except the footmen returned inside. No one spoke as they climbed the stairs to their bedchambers.

  “Go to bed.” Miles passed Amber the night candle. “I need a drink.”

  Reaching the bedchamber, Amber removed her bedrobe and climbed into bed. What was her husband feeling about his cousin’s death? She hoped he wasn’t feeling guilty, thinking that Pines may have been innocent. It was obvious that Pines had set the fire.

  Her husband was an honorable man and trusted other men to be equally honorable. She prayed he would never suspect her cousins’ guilt. That could cause trouble in her marriage.

  A long time later Amber heard the door open. Through half-closed eyes, she watched Miles cross the chamber to the bed. He tossed his robe aside and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his breeches, then snuffed out the night candle.

  Amber sensed his movement as he removed his mask. The bed creaked as he lay down and rolled toward her, drawing her into his arms.

  “How do you feel?” she asked.

  “Relieved.”

  “Terrence did not confess.”

  “Do you believe in his guilt?”

  “Yes.”

  “So do I.” Miles planted a kiss on her lips. “Your cousins do not fool me, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do not tell your cousins this,” Miles said, “but Terrence feared heights and would never have climbed out that window.” He dropped his hand to her breast. “His execution has reminded me again how precarious life is.” He rolled over, pinning her beneath him, his lips hovering above hers. “One should never lose the opportunity to affirm life, especially by making love. Do you agree, my sweet?”

  Amber answered by wrapping her legs around his waist.

  * * *

  “The coach is coming up the drive.”

  Miles looked at Amber and tossed the quill aside. He rose from his desk and followed his wife downstairs to the courtyard.

  Days earlier, the magistrate had ruled Terrence Pines’s death accidental. All involved had returned to their own lives. After giving the newlyweds a week to settle into married life, the Duke and Duchess of Avon ordered their niece’s belongings packed and sent her home to Arden Hall.

  “Welcome home, Caroline,” Amber called.

  The coach, carrying the little girl and her nanny, halted in the courtyard.

  Miles opened the door and laughed when his daughter leaped into his arms. “Welcome home, Caro.”

  “I heard you married my daddy,” Caroline said, after kissing her father. “Do I call you Mummy?”

  Amber hesitated. She had no problem with her step-daughter calling her Mummy, but the earl might have a different opinion.

  Miles shrugged and inclined his head. His gaze conveyed the message that he would leave the decision to her.

  “Of course you may call me Mummy.” Amber turned to Nanny and said, “The footman will give you directions to the kitchen. Take your luncheon now.” She looked at her stepdaughter. “Just-Pebbles is waiting to serve us lunch. Are you hungry?”

  Caroline clapped her hands together. “I’m so damn happy.”

  Both Miles and Amber stared at her. Recovering herself first, Amber said, “That is a bad word.”

  “You mean damn?”

  “Where did you hear that?” Miles asked.

  Caroline gave him an innocent smile. “Lord Naughty says damn all the time.”

  Amber laughed, earning a frown from her husband.

  “Do not encourage her,” Miles said, walking toward the mansion. “And you, Miss Montgomery, do not use Lord Naughty’s vocabulary.”

  “Welcome home, Miss Caroline,” Pebbles greeted them at the door.

  “Who is that man?”

  “Just-Pebbles works for your father,” Amber answered. “He has known you since you were a baby.”

  “I never saw him before,” Caroline said, making them smile.

  “Luncheon is served,” Pebbles announced, and followed the three of them down the corridor to the dining room.

  Miles sat at the head of the table. Amber sat beside him, her back to the hearth, and the little girl sat opposite her.

  A roasted chicken with mushroom stuffing appeared on the table. Brown gravy, roasted potatoes, and roasted parsnips accompanied it.

  Pebbles poured the earl a glass of wine and then looked at Amber, who refused with a shake of her head.

  Watching this byplay, Caroline said, “I prefer lemonade, Just-Pebbles.”

  Miles laughed, drawing his daughter’s attention. “Are you certain you wouldn’t like wine, Lady Caroline?”

  “Lemonade makes me pucker like a fish.” Caroline pursed her lips into a fish-like pucker.

  Amber burst into delighted laughter. “What is the latest news about Lord Naughty and Lady Begood?”

  Caroline shook her head sadly. “Lord Naughty ruined Lady Begood.”

  Miles shouted with laughter, earning a reproving look from his daughter. “I’m sorry,” he apologized.

  “Being ruined is no laughing matter,” Caroline told him.

  Amber giggled. “How exactly did Lord Naughty ruin Lady Begood?”

  Caroline lowered her voice to a loud whisper, “Lady Begood danced with him five times at Lady Gossip’s ball. What a scandalbroth.” She pointed toward the hearth. “Who is that lady?”

  Amber didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know the child was referring to the portrait of Brenna Montgomery. She slid her gaze from the daughter to the father, who cleared his throat.

  “That lady is your mother,” the earl told her, obviously uncomfortable with the fact that his daughter didn’t know her own mother.

  “Oh.” Caroline stared at the portrait a moment longer and then resumed eating. After a few minutes, she asked, “Mummy, what will we play after lunch?”

  “I thought a nap would be a good idea.”

  Caroline looked horrified. “Only babies take naps.”

  “Why do
n’t we walk in the garden instead,” Amber suggested.

  The remainder of their luncheon passed without event. When Miles headed for his office, Amber and Caroline walked outside.

  “I want to introduce you to a special friend.” Amber led the girl around the mansion and ushered her across the lawn. “This rosebush hurt. See how my love healed it. These blossoms are perfect.”

  “Daddy hurts, too,” Caroline said. “Can you make him feel better?”

  Amber assumed the girl was referring to the earl’s face. How could she explain that physical scars could not be cured?

  “Why do you think your daddy hurts?”

  “Daddy hurt his heart,” Caroline answered, placing her hand across her chest. “Can you fix him?”

  Amber blinked back tears and swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. “I will try my hardest to make him well.”

  Caroline pointed at the stone building in the distance. “What’s that?”

  “That is your family’s chapel.”

  “Can we look?”

  Amber nodded and, taking the child’s hand in hers, led her across the garden to the graveyard. She opened the wooden gate and went down the stone steps first, explaining, “Your ancestors lie at rest here.”

  “What are ancestors?

  “Ancestors are relatives who have come and gone.”

  “Come and gone where?”

  Amber smiled at her question. “Come to earth and gone to heaven.”

  Caroline nodded as if she understood. “Where is my first mummy?”

  Amber walked in the direction of Brenna Montgomery’s grave marker. She felt certain the girl had questions only her father could answer.

  “Brenna was your mummy’s name,” Amber told her. “She loved you very much, more than life itself. Your daddy loved her so much, he put her portrait in every room. No matter where he stands, your daddy can see her face. In fact, your daddy was injured trying to save her by running into the fire instead of away from it. Only special people receive that kind of love.”

  “Do you?”

  Amber didn’t know what to say. “Someday, if I am lucky . . .” Taking the girl’s hand in hers, she turned to leave and gave a tiny gasp of surprise.

  Miles stood there.

  Amber wondered how much he had heard. She hoped he wouldn’t shout at her.

  “Caroline has questions,” Amber said. “I will leave you to your privacy.” She brushed past him, but he grasped her arm, preventing her from leaving.

  “Please stay.”

  Her heart filled with hope.

  When she inclined her head, Miles released her. He lifted his daughter into his arms. “What do you want to know, sweet?”

  “Does dying hurt?” Caroline asked, staring into his eyes.

  “Sometimes dying does hurt,” Miles answered.

  Caroline looked worried. “Fire burns, and burns hurt.”

  “Your mother did not hurt,” Miles assured her. “The smoke stole her breath. She went to sleep and never opened her eyes again.”

  Caroline digested this piece of information. “Why don’t you have a picture of my new mummy?”

  “I plan to make a picture of her and you,” Miles said, “but I need to hire an artist. Can you wait until then?”

  Caroline nodded.

  “Do you have more questions?”

  Caroline nodded. “Do you know any stories, Mummy?”

  Amber gave her a sunshine smile. “I know hundreds of stories and promise to tell you one every night at bedtime.”

  * * *

  Amber kept her promise every night for two months, the happiest sixty days of her entire life.

  The summer solstice heralded the changing season, followed by the dog days. August waned, as did summer’s heat. Splashes of goldenrod appeared here and there, foreshadowing autumn’s rioting blaze. September gave birth to purple asters, color-tipped trees, and Michaelmas daisies.

  “I love hedgehog pudding,” Caroline said, standing at the worktable in the center of the kitchen. “Daddy loves it, too.”

  “Have you ever eaten hedgehog pudding?” Amber asked, admiring their creation.

  “No.”

  “How do you know you love it?”

  “I love it because you made it.”

  “That makes sense to me,” Mrs. Meade said, working at the butcher block near the stove.

  Hedgehog pudding consisted of an oval-shaped sponge cake saturated in sherry. Flaked almonds, packed in rows covering the cake, served as the hedgehog prickles. A baked custard moated the cake.

  “Nanny Smart, does this look like a hog?” Caroline asked.

  “Hedgehog,” the older woman corrected her.

  Caroline approached the cook. “What are you making?”

  “Fried bloaters.” Mrs. Meade chopped the head and the tail off the fish. Then she opened the bloater’s back and boned it.

  Queasiness gripped Amber. Like the roll and pitch of a ship at sea, her stomach flip-flopped with nausea. She raised her hand to her throat and tried to quell the sickness.

  “Take Caroline upstairs,” Mrs. Meade ordered the nanny. Then she whisked Amber outside the kitchen door.

  Amber retched in the herb garden. Her face ashen, she straightened when her spasms ended. Beads of perspiration beaded her upper lip and rolled down her neck to the valley between her breasts.

  “I am sorry,” Amber apologized. “I believe the bloaters got the better of me.”

  Mrs. Meade helped her sit on the door stoop. “Keep your head down until your strength returns.”

  “I cannot imagine what is wrong. One minute I was perfectly well and the next . . .”

  “You’re carrying His Lordship’s heir.”

  Amber looked up in surprise. “How can that be?”

  “The usual way, I suppose.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “You have all the symptoms,” Mrs. Meade told her. “Excuse my boldness, but have you had your menses lately?”

  Amber started to shake her head but thought her sickness would return. “I cannot remember the last time.”

  “Eat bread each morning before you rise,” Mrs. Meade advised her. “Do not put yourself in the path of certain scents or even sights.”

  “Like bloaters having their heads chopped off?”

  “You’ll need to nap each afternoon,” the older woman told her, helping her up. “Go along to your chamber and rest a while.”

  Amber left the kitchen. She was safe. Fedor could not force her to return to Russia now. She wore the earl’s wedding band on her finger and carried his child inside her womb. Her husband would protect her with his life. If not for love of her, then for his heir.

  Gaining her bedchamber, Amber removed her gown and lay on the bed. She could not help thinking that she would soon have what she’d always wanted, a family.

  While his wife climbed the stairs to her bedchamber, Miles sat in his study one floor down. Frowning, he read the letter from Prince Rudolf.

  I received a letter from Fedor demanding Amber’s return but believe this could be a ploy. I suspect Fedor is already in London.

  We cannot protect Amber indefinitely. Bring her to London to ferret Fedor out of his hole. Do not tell Amber what we plan . . .

  The last thing Miles wanted to do was travel to London. He hadn’t appeared in society since before the fire and had no idea what his reception would be. More importantly, he did not want to place his wife in danger by using her as bait.

  On the other hand, Prince Rudolf did make sense. After all, how could they possibly guard her every moment of every day until Fedor or Gromeko died?

  “My lord?”

  Miles focused on his majordomo. “Yes, Pebbles?”

  “Mrs. Meade said that Her Highness is ill.”

  “Thank you, Pebbles.” Miles hurried out of his study and took the stairs two at a time. With concern etched across his features, Miles perched on the edge of his wife’s bed. “Meade said you were ill.”

/>   Amber put her arms around his neck, savoring the heat emanating from his body. She felt his strong arms holding her, rested her head against his shoulder, and met his gaze. Love shone from her eyes. “We are going to have a baby.”

  Miles looked momentarily surprised. “Are you certain?”

  “Meade says I have all the symptoms.”

  Miles lowered his lips to hers. His kiss was tender, gentle, almost reverent.

  “I will not break.”

  Miles deepened his kiss, drawing her onto his lap, holding her against his muscular frame. “Thank you,” he said, breaking the kiss.

  Amber placed a finger across his mouth. “Do not thank me until I deliver our child.”

  “All will be well,” he assured her. “Or are you planning to worry the whole nine months?”

  “Probably longer.”

  “How long?”

  “I will worry about our children until the day I die.”

  That made him smile. He crushed her against his chest. “That means you will make an excellent mother.”

  “Make love to me?”

  “I can never refuse you that.”

  Miles put her off his lap and, a moment later, stood naked in front of her. Amber rose from the bed, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of love and desire. With silken fingers, she caressed her husband’s erection and smiled when he moaned.

  “Enough.” Miles slid the straps of her chemise off her shoulders, and the garment pooled at her feet. He drew her nakedness against his own, their hot flesh touching from breast to thigh, and kissed her lingeringly.

  “I want no barriers between us.” Amber placed the palm of her hand against his masked cheek. “Remove your mask. Please.”

  Reluctance appeared in his eyes. “You don’t know what you are asking.”

  “I am asking for your trust.”

  “We have been content these past two months.”

  “We will continue to be content,” Amber assured him. “Please, Miles, bare yourself to me as I have bared myself to you.”

  “I can’t,” he said in a choked voice.

  She had lost.

  “You remove the mask for me.” Miles closed his eyes against seeing her reaction.

  Seeing the tense expression on her husband’s face, Amber felt fear coiling inside her. She steeled herself for what she would see. Slowly, she raised her hands to the mask and then hesitated. Summoning her courage, she lifted it off and set it down.