Beauty and the Earl Read online

  “Congratulations,” Slominsky said, and shook her husband’s hand.

  Sergei said nothing. A moment later, he made a hasty retreat and took his friend with him.

  Amber wished the intermission would end. No such luck.

  The curtain parted again, this time revealing a gentleman and a lady. Both Miles and Rudolf stood at the woman’s queenly entrance.

  The dark-haired beauty was tall and curvaceous. She wore a red silk gown that displayed her generous cleavage, and her queenly poise spoke of sophistication. The woman held out her hand to Miles, who kissed it.

  “You have kept yourself in Stratford too long,” she said, her voice throaty. “You cannot imagine how pleased I am to see you.”

  “I cannot imagine you even realized I was missing from your circle of admirers.” Miles looked at Amber. “I present Vanessa Stanton, the Countess of Tewksbury, and her cousin, Charles Bradford, the Earl of Langley.”

  Vanessa Stanton gave Amber the most insincere smile she had ever seen. “Princess Amber, you are a lovely child,” the woman said. “I can see the reason Miles married you.” Then she dismissed Amber completely, saying, “Miles, you must promise not to bury yourself in Stratford again.”

  Comparing her own assets to the English beauty, Amber found herself lacking. Vanessa Stanton was everything she wished to be. She shifted her gaze to the cousin, who was staring at her.

  “Pay no attention to my cousin,” Vanessa said. “Charles adores blondes.”

  “Charles has a special fondness for blondes named Adele,” Rudolf remarked, making the other man blanche.

  Vanessa looked at Miles. “Is Caroline in London?”

  “Yes.”

  “I would love to introduce my son to your daughter,” she said. “Perhaps fate will accept a match between our families this time.”

  And Amber knew. Her husband and this woman had been more than friends. Full-bodied jealousy bloomed within her at the thought that Miles and this woman had shared intimacies.

  Had Miles loved the woman? What had happened to separate them? Amber knew one thing for certain. Vanessa Stanton wanted to resume that relationship with Miles.

  “What do you think, Your Highness?” Vanessa was asking. “Should I bring my son around to meet Caroline?”

  “My stepdaughter is entirely too young to consider matrimony,” Amber answered. “Bring him around in a couple of decades.”

  Vanessa Stanton smiled, seemingly amused by her wit, but Amber knew better. She recognized the cold challenge in the other woman’s eyes.

  Lady Stanton and her cousin soon left, and the opera resumed.

  Again, Amber suffered the feeling that someone was watching her. She tried to scan the crowd without alerting her husband to what she was doing. And then she caught a glimpse of a familiar, dark-haired figure standing in the back of an opera box on the opposite side of the theater. Her breath caught in her throat, and she grabbed her husband’s arm.

  “The letter was a trick.” Amber turned eyes filled with fright on her husband. “Uncle Fedor is in this theater.”

  “Where?”

  “Over there.” Amber gestured to the now empty opera box. “I swear Fedor was there a moment ago.”

  “You could be right,” Miles said, watching the socialites leaving their seats at the opera’s end.

  “We will be on guard,” Rudolf assured her. “Samantha and I are going to the Pembrokes’ ball. Will we see you there?”

  “Yes, unless—” Miles looked at his wife’s anxious expression. “Shall we go home or to the Pembrokes?”

  “I will be fine.” Amber knew the significance of the evening for Miles. If they delayed mingling with society, her husband would be even more nervous than he had been that night.

  The ride from the Royal Opera House to Park Lane took less time than the wait to alight from their coach in front of the Pembrokes’ front door.

  Amber felt nervous, sensing the aristocratic crowd was waiting to speak with her husband after his four-year absence. Apparently, everyone wanted to boast of welcoming one of their own back into the fold.

  With her less than respectable origins, Amber had never stepped into society before and did not know what to expect. What would these English people think of her? Would they accept her as they had accepted her cousins?

  Amber decided to keep her head held proudly high at all times. She was a princess of Russia and an English countess by marriage to one of their own. Nobody knew she was an unacknowledged bastard whose very existence had destroyed her mother and her mother’s husband.

  Unless Sergei—No, that idea was too absurd. Her oldest friend would do nothing to hurt her, nor would he even consider betraying her trust.

  “Are you well?” Miles placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. “We can return to Berkeley Square if you are not ready for this.”

  Amber managed a smile for him. Her husband had more to make him nervous than she did, yet he thought of how she was feeling. Which was an encouraging sign.

  “I am only a little nervous,” she answered. “I dislike meeting new people but will survive the evening.”

  “Everyone will love you,” he assured her.

  Rudolf and Samantha waited for them in the foyer. Together, the four of them climbed the stairs to the ballroom.

  “Prince Rudolf and Princess Samantha Kazanov,” the Pembroke majordomo announced. Then, “The Earl of Stratford and Princess Amber, the Countess of Stratford.”

  All conversation in the ballroom ceased. A sea of curious gazes turned in their direction. Someone clapped his hands. Others joined him until the ballroom filled with thunderous applause.

  Amber froze, unused to being the object of this much attention. She had always preferred hiding in the background lest someone remark on her disreputable origins.

  “If you do not breathe,” Miles whispered, leaning close, “you will never make it down these stairs. If I try to rescue another wife, I will need to listen to all that noise again.”

  Amber inclined her head. She took an exaggerated breath, slipped her hand through the crook of his arm, and started down the stairs. In an instant, a throng of well-wishers surrounded them. Amber inched closer to Miles. He put his left arm around her waist and drew her protectively close.

  The crowd parted for their host and hostess, the Earl and Countess of Pembroke.

  “Welcome to London,” the earl greeted them.

  “How wonderful to see you again,” his countess added, her voice warm. “Bringing a beautiful, young bride with you has certainly disappointed many of these ladies.”

  “Princess Amber, I present the Earl and Countess of Pembroke,” Miles said, making the introduction.

  “I am pleased to make your acquaintances,” Amber said.

  “We are very pleased to meet you,” the countess returned. “John and Isabelle arrived earlier.”

  After a few minutes of exchanging pleasantries, Miles and Amber left the Pembrokes and crossed the ballroom to their group. Unfortunately, everyone wanted to speak with Miles and meet his royal bride. Twenty minutes passed before they reached the opposite side of the ballroom.

  “I believe you have survived your first foray into London society,” Isabelle said.

  Amber gave her sister-in-law a nervous smile. “The evening is not finished yet.”

  “By tomorrow morning, you will be a huge success,” Samantha said. “One and all will declare you an Original.”

  “And an Incomparable,” Miles whispered against her ear.

  Amber smiled at him. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Miles held out his hand. “Dance with me?”

  “I would love to dance with you.”

  The orchestra was playing a waltz. Miles and Amber walked onto the dance floor, and she stepped into his arms. They moved with natural grace, as if they had waltzed together a thousand times.

  “Do you realize this is our first public dance?” Amber asked.

  “Imagine that,” Miles teased her.
“We have music, too, instead of off-key humming.”

  Amber laughed and gazed with love into his eyes. Miles appeared even more besotted than she.

  Returning to their group, Amber found herself facing a ravishingly beautiful brunette. The woman was tall and generously endowed, her peacock blue gown matching her blue eyes.

  “Miles, welcome home,” the woman said, taking his hands in hers.

  “You look as lovely as ever,” Miles greeted her.

  “Amber, I present Georgiana Devon, the Countess of Dorset.”

  “I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Amber greeted her.

  “You seem a bit overwhelmed by the crowd,” Georgiana said. “Everything will fall into place once you begin to know us.” She gestured to the gentleman beside her. “I present Grover Dalrymple, the Earl of Street.”

  Amber smiled at the man who bowed over her hand.

  “Princess, may I have the honor of your next dance?” the Earl of Street asked.

  Amber had no idea how to refuse someone without being impolite. She had never been invited to any Moscow balls and had no experience. “That would be nice.”

  Stepping onto the dance floor, Amber caught a glimpse of Sergei standing across the ballroom and watching her. A moment later, he stepped onto the dance floor with the lady beside him, Vanessa Stanton.

  “I have never waltzed with a princess,” the earl said.

  “I have never danced with the Earl of Street,” Amber said, making him smile.

  When Miles stepped onto the dance floor with Georgiana Devon, Amber felt the first stirrings of jealousy. She wondered if this had been planned.

  Amber danced next with Prince Rudolf. Thankfully, Miles partnered Princess Samantha.

  And then another statuesque brunette approached their group. This English beauty wore black, its simplicity enhancing her creamy complexion. Diamonds sparkled from her throat, wrist, and earlobes.

  “My lord, how pleased I am to see you again,” the sultry brunette said, her smile warm and genuine.

  Miles bowed over her hand. “Sarah, the pleasure is mine as always,” he said. “Too many years have passed.”

  Sarah inclined her head. “I was saddened to hear of your loss.”

  “Thank you.” Miles drew Amber forward. “I present Sarah Pole, the Marchioness of Arlington.”

  Amber inclined her head, which was beginning to throb from feigned graciousness. “How nice to meet you.”

  If her husband had been a commodity, she could have made a fortune. The demand for him exceeded his supply.

  Sarah Pole and her group moved on. Amber knew that neither Miles nor she had seen the last of the marchioness. How many old flames did her husband have? How many of them had designs on her husband?

  And then Amber noted Vanessa Stanton and her cousin advancing on them. She had no desire to dance with the cousin.

  “You will excuse me,” Amber whispered, leaning close to her husband. “I need to visit the withdrawing room.”

  “Are you ill?” Miles asked, concern etched across his face.

  Amber forced herself to smile. “I am quite well.”

  Since Samantha and Isabelle were dancing, Amber made her way alone through the crowded ballroom. Thankfully, no one paid her any particular attention.

  Reaching the deserted withdrawing room, Amber sat in a dark alcove. She did not want to be disturbed, and any lady who entered would not see her sitting there.

  Apparently, her husband preferred tall, beautiful, large-breasted brunettes. Which made her feel like a blond, flat-chested child. Given a choice, Miles Montgomery would never have chosen her for a mate. Unfortunately for him, he had married her before venturing into society again.

  And then the sound of female voices reached her ears. Hidden in her dark corner, Amber watched three females walk into the withdrawing room. Two of the ladies had already been introduced to her, the Countess of Dorset and the Marchioness of Arlington.

  “Miles looks wonderful considering what he has endured,” said Georgiana Devon, the Countess of Dorset.

  “Princess Amber is very beautiful,” remarked Sarah Pole, the Marchioness of Arlington.

  The third lady gave a delicate snort. “Gossip is already spreading about her, you know.”

  “What gossip?” Georgiana asked.

  “Before you tell us, Cynthia, where did you hear this gossip?” Sarah Pole asked.

  “Vanessa Stanton danced with Count Pushkin,” Cynthia said. “Count Pushkin has known Princess Amber for her entire life. He told Vanessa that the princess is Czar Alexander’s bastard. Unacknowledged, too. Her legal father murdered her mother and then committed suicide.”

  “Unendurable shame must have driven the poor man to resort to violence,” Georgiana said. “I heard that immoral behavior can be inherited.”

  “I wonder if Miles knows about his wife’s disreputable history,” Sarah Pole said, a smile touching her lips.

  “Someone should tell him to beware,” Cynthia said.

  Georgiana nodded as the women left the room. “The princess could bring dishonor to the Montgomery family.”

  Amber felt like weeping. Her past had followed her to England. No one would accept her now. Her presence in her husband’s life could only bring him shame. Once her origins became common knowledge, would he divorce her or grow to hate her?

  And then her thoughts turned to Sergei. She was a bastard by birth. He was a bastard by nature. Her oldest and dearest friend had betrayed her, and she would never forgive him.

  Amber would not shame her husband by creating a scene on the night of his return to London society. She could not spoil the moment for him. Schooling her features into an expressionless mask, she left the withdrawing room and wended her way through the crowd to her group. Her husband was dancing with Vanessa Stanton, and Sergei stood with Baron Slominsky nearby.

  Amber saw Sergei start walking toward her, and then another gentleman blocked her vision. She looked in surprise at her brother-in-law and smiled with relief. Here, at least, was a friendly face.

  “Princess Amber, I believe this is our dance,” John Saint-Germain said.

  “Thank you for rescuing me from a mean-spirited old friend,” Amber said, and stepped onto the dance floor.

  “I didn’t realize you knew anyone here except your cousins,” the duke remarked.

  “I have known Count Sergei Pushkin my entire life.”

  “Ah, yes, I think Miles mentioned him to me.”

  Amber flicked a glance in her husband’s direction. “Tonight has been good for Miles, but I wish we had remained in Stratford.”

  “Do not worry about his affections waning,” John said. “Those women are in your husband’s past.”

  “Has anyone bothered to tell them?”

  The Duke of Avon laughed out loud, earning curious looks from other dancers. “Take my advice, dear sister-in-law. Tell Miles you want to leave. I guarantee he will whisk you home to Berkeley Square. Your husband will not endanger the mother of his heir.”

  “I hate to bring his triumphant evening to an early end.”

  “Do you actually believe he is enjoying himself?” the duke asked. “Trust me, Princess. He would much rather be home with you.”

  Amber followed her brother-in-law’s advice. She sidled up to her husband, touched his arm, and beckoned him closer. “The babe wearies me tonight.”

  “We will leave now.” Miles placed his arm around her waist and guided her toward the stairs. He leaned close to whisper against her ear, “Will you join me in my bed tonight?”

  Her smile could have lit the whole mansion. “I would love to join you, my lord. I thought you would never ask.”

  Chapter 14

  “Why are you blushing?

  Amber looked at her husband across the breakfast table and recalled their bedsport of the previous night. Her blush deepened into a vivid scarlet.

  “I enjoyed myself, too,” Miles teased, pushing the newspaper toward her. “The Times menti
oned us.”

  Amber opened the Times to the society gossip on page three.

  The Earl of Stratford returned triumphantly to London society, receiving admiring applause at the opera and the Earl of Pembroke’s ball. Lord Montgomery introduced his royal bride to London’s elite, breaking many hopeful hearts.

  Amber could think of three hopeful hearts she had seen the previous evening.

  “Are you prepared for today’s onslaught?” Miles asked.

  Amber gave him a puzzled smile. “I do not understand.”

  “A hundred invitations will arrive for us today,” he told her. “Many of the people you met last night will visit this afternoon.”

  “I doubt that will happen.”

  Miles cocked a dark brow at her.

  Amber looked around. Except for the majordomo, she and her husband were alone. “I am sorry for ruining your life.”

  “You gave me a life,” he corrected her. “What has upset you?”

  “When I sat in the withdrawing room last night,” Amber answered, “I heard some women talking about me. Sergei has spread the gossip about my family history—”

  “I could kill him,” Miles said.

  “He spoke the truth,” Amber said. “His betrayal of our friendship hurts and, especially, your loss of social standing.”

  “Trust me, sweetheart. Your family history has nothing to do with our social standing,” Miles said. “If you knew the personal history of some of those aristocrats, you would swoon dead away.” He dropped the subject. “I don’t want to tire you with too much activity or needless anxiety, though. We will refuse all invitations until Inverary’s ball.”

  “I enjoy staying home with you.” Did her husband want to forgo social engagements because of her condition, or was he embarrassed by her family history?

  Miles beckoned to the majordomo. “I have business meetings all day. Neither my wife nor I will be available to visitors.”

  “I understand, my lord.”

  Her stepdaughter, gardening, and knitting a blue blanket for her baby occupied Amber for the remainder of the day. After lunching with Caroline, Amber sent the girl upstairs to nap. She paused in the foyer to speak with the majordomo about the silver trays on a table.