Beauty and the Earl Read online

  Miles inclined his head and opened the door. Inside, a man sat on a stool.

  “Your Lordship,” the man exclaimed in obvious surprise, bolting off the stool and doffing his cap.

  Miles flicked an anxious glance at the princess and then said to the man, “Good day, sir. I would like to show my guest the Bard’s birthplace.”

  “Shall I show you around, my lord?”

  “I can manage the tour.”

  “Very good, my lord.” The man hesitated for a fraction of a second and then added, “Seeing you out and about is grand, my lord. The whole town has been praying for you.”

  “I appreciate your prayers.” Miles turned to Amber and gestured to the room. “The kitchen and the common room comprise the house’s first floor. This, of course, is the common room.”

  Miles watched her inspect the sparsely furnished room with its timber-framed walls. He hid a smile when he spied her sneaking touches as if to bring Shakespeare closer.

  Letting his gaze drop from her face to her body, Miles admired her full breasts and slender waist. In his mind’s eye, he saw her dusty pink nipples and the feminine curve of her hips. Good God, she probably had beautiful feet.

  Her perfection gave him pause. He wondered again why such a beauty, who carried royal blood, would seek marriage with him. What secret was she keeping for her husband’s ears only?

  “Shall we?” Miles led the way out of the common room.

  The kitchen had a large stone hearth and was equipped with utensils. Running from the floor to the ceiling timber, a wooden pole stood in the center of the stone floor. An iron loop had been attached to the lower part of the pole.

  “What is it?” Amber asked.

  “A poor person’s nanny, a sixteenth-century babyminder,” Miles answered, smiling at her surprised expression. “While performing her daily chores, mother locked the baby inside the loop to keep him safe.”

  “I never imagined Shakespeare as a child.”

  After inspecting the second-floor bedchamber where Shakespeare was born, they said farewell to the keeper and stepped outside the Henley Street house. Miles tensed when he saw the small crowd gathered near his coach. His moment of reckoning had arrived. He wanted neither their pity nor their fear.

  An older woman stepped out of the crowd. “My lord, how wonderful to see you again finally,” she said, drawing nods from the group behind her.

  “Miss Kaitlyn Squelch, I simply could not wait another day to see you,” Miles said, his lips twitching into a smile. “You are alone, Miss Squelch. Where are your sisters?”

  “Gen and Laura decided to stay home today,” Miss Squelch answered. “They will be sorry to have missed you.” Her sharp gaze drifted to the princess.

  “Your Highness, I present Miss Squelch, the chairwoman of our local historical society,” Miles made the introduction. “Princess Amber is my fiancée.”

  “Your Highness, I am honored to make your acquaintance,” the woman said, dropping a curtsey. She looked at the earl. “With all due respect, four years was long past time to leave Arden Hall and find a mate.”

  “I knew you would refuse my suit,” Miles teased the woman, making everyone smile.

  “Your husband-to-be has always been a flirtatious rascal,” Miss Squelch told the princess.

  “Once I am settled at Arden Hall, perhaps you and your sisters would care to take tea with me,” Amber invited her.

  Miles snapped his head around to look at the princess. Invite the gossipy Squelch sisters to tea? What was she planning?

  “My sisters and I would be honored,” Miss Squelch replied.

  “I am an admirer of Shakespeare and would like to help your historical society,” Amber said. “I will look forward to our tea.”

  “We must be leaving now.” Miles guided Amber to the coach and, after speaking to his driver, climbed inside to sit beside her.

  “Why did you do that?” he demanded. “You invited the Squelch sisters to tea.”

  “And so they will come to tea.”

  “What will the people of Stratford think if we do not marry?”

  “You should have considered that before you introduced me as your fiancée.” Amber wondered if the earl was feeling trapped by his own words. “Besides, we will marry.”

  Miles gave her a long look. “You are very confident.”

  “Optimistic would be a more appropriate word,” Amber corrected him, and glanced out the window. “We are not finishing our tour?”

  “I can endure no more sentimental outpourings.”

  “The townspeople missed your smiling countenance and affable personality.”

  “Once upon a time, I did possess a smiling countenance and affable personality.”

  Amber touched his arm and waited for him to meet her gaze. “And so you shall possess those attributes again.”

  The earl made no reply but covered her hand with his own. She was forgiven for teasing him.

  “We did not come this way,” Amber said, when their coach turned left after crossing Clopton Bridge.

  “Very observant, Your Highness. We are going to Avon Park, my sister’s home.”

  Amber wondered what his sister would think of her and their bargain. What if the duchess didn’t like her? Would the earl marry her anyway?

  “Relax, Princess.” Miles slipped his arm around her shoulder. “I’m taking you to my sister’s, not the gallows.”

  “Do I look presentable?”

  Miles smiled at her feminine question. “Princess, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

  “Yes, but do I look presentable?”

  Miles laughed. “Your Highness, I have never seen a more presentable woman.”

  “Tell me about your sister,” she said, trying to gauge her reception.

  “Isabelle is not a typical society lady.”

  Amber decided she liked his sister already. Society ladies had always turned their noses up at her. She was the czar’s daughter but unless he acknowledged her, she had the wrong pedigree. Except for Sergei, she had never had a friend. Perhaps she would find a friend in the earl’s sister.

  “Isabelle fell in love with John when his younger brother and I traveled to New York,” Miles told her. “I asked John to act as Belle’s temporary guardian, and when I returned to England, they had already married.”

  “How romantic.”

  “As I recall, John was not thrilled to act as guardian for a young lady who, everyone believed, was unbalanced,” Miles said. “Isabelle had an imaginary friend who, she insisted, was her guardian angel. Actually, John swears he saw and heard the angel speak, but temporary insanity could prove contagious.”

  “Is the angel still in residence with your sister?”

  “She disappeared when my sister delivered her first-born,” Miles answered, “but Isabelle insists her angel is lurking unseen in the shadows and waiting until her services are needed again.”

  “I like this story.”

  “Do you believe in angels?”

  Amber shrugged. “I would like to think that angels exist.”

  “So would I, Princess.”

  * * *

  “Good afternoon, Dobbs.”

  “Good afternoon, my lord. Miss Caroline will be especially pleased by your visit.”

  “I know the way.” With his hand on the small of her back, Miles guided Amber across the foyer to the marble staircase.

  Wearing smiles of greetings, the Duke and Duchess of Avon stood when they walked into the drawing room. Amber liked the earl’s sister from the first moment her gaze touched the petite golden-haired woman.

  “Your Highness, I present my sister and brother-in-law,” Miles made the introduction. “John and Isabelle, Princess Amber is Prince Rudolf’s cousin, recently arrived from Russia.”

  “I am pleased to make your acquaintances.” Her smile wobbled from nerves. “Call me Amber.”

  “I am very happy to make your acquaintance,” Isabelle said, and gave her brother a point
ed look. “Call us Belle and John.”

  In that instant, Amber knew she had found a friend. She gave the earl’s sister her sunshine smile.

  “Let’s sit while Dobbs fetches the children,” Isabelle said. “How do you like England, Amber?”

  “Your town of Stratford is lovely,” Amber answered. “We toured Shakespeare’s birthplace this morning.”

  Both the duke and the duchess shifted surprised gazes to the earl. Miles stretched his long legs out and remained silent.

  “Tell us about yourself,” John said.

  I am the czar’s unacknowledged bastard whom my uncle wants to sell into slavery. “I arrived in England several weeks ago,” Amber told them, and flicked a blushing glance at the earl. “Rudolf thought Miles and I would suit.”

  “And do you?”

  At a loss for words, Amber sent the earl a silent plea for help.

  “We are becoming acquainted,” Miles answered.

  “Where is Prince Rudolf?” Isabelle asked, giving her brother a meaningful look. “The prince hasn’t left his cousin unchaperoned, has he?”

  “A business matter demanded his return to London,” Miles said, the lie slipping easily from his lips. “Rudolf will return in a few days.”

  The duchess looked from her brother to his guest, who shifted uncomfortably on the settee, and then returned her gaze to the earl. “Perhaps Amber should remain with us until Rudolf returns.”

  “No.” Miles sounded emphatic.

  “Here are the children,” Isabelle said, letting the matter drop.

  Amber turned to see a group of children, two boys and four girls, ranging in age from five to ten, walk into the drawing room. Behind them followed two nannies, one holding a toddler’s hand.

  Amber smiled when she saw the children. The duke and the duchess were fortunate to have a large family. No one would ever feel lonely in this group.

  “Uncle Miles is here,” the older boy called.

  A dark-haired girl broke from the group and dashed across the drawing room, calling, “Daddy!”

  Amber dropped her mouth open in surprise when the girl threw herself into the earl’s arms. A daughter?

  Miles scooped the girl onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, gave him a smacking kiss on the lips, and held him as if she would never let go.

  “You did not mention your daughter,” Amber said, managing a smile when the girl looked at her.

  “Caroline has lived with my sister since the fire,” Miles told her.

  “I love you, Daddy,” Caroline said, demanding her father’s attention.

  “I love you more.”

  With her dark hair and blue eyes, the girl was the image of her mother, the woman in the portraits. That the earl loved his daughter was obvious. She had never seen him like this—happy, smiling, relaxed. He seemed a different man. Why did the girl live with her aunt instead of her father?

  “Did you bring me a gift?” Caroline was asking her father.

  “Yes, my greedy one.” Miles pointed at Amber. “My gift is sitting there.”

  Caroline looked at Amber. “Is she my new mummy?”

  “I brought you a princess,” Miles said. “Princess Amber, I present Caroline Montgomery, my daughter.”

  “I’m very pleased to meet you,” Amber said. “How old are you?”

  “Five.” Caroline held her hand up and wiggled her fingers for emphasis. “Are you a real princess?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Where is your prince?”

  Amber pointed at the earl. “There he is.”

  Caroline giggled. “That’s Daddy, not a prince.”

  “How do you know your daddy is not a prince?”

  “He doesn’t wear a crown.”

  “Princes do not always wear crowns,” Amber told her. “Princely is as princely does.”

  Caroline scrambled off her father’s lap and sat beside Amber. “I like you.”

  “I like you, too.”

  “Are you going to marry Daddy?”

  Amber felt a blush rising on her cheeks. “Your daddy has not asked me to marry him.”

  Caroline looked at her father. “Are you going to marry the princess?”

  Miles appeared decidedly uncomfortable. “You will be the first to know if I do.”

  After greeting their uncle, the duke’s children returned to their lessons. Only Caroline was allowed to stay.

  “What shall we play today?” Miles asked his daughter.

  “Let’s go outside,” Caroline said. “We’ll drink tea in the playhouse.”

  “Let’s meet for luncheon in an hour or so,” Isabelle said, rising from her chair. “Amber, would you care to walk in the gardens?”

  Amber inclined her head. She assumed the earl would want private time with his daughter.

  Following the duchess out of the drawing room, Amber fell into step beside her as they walked down the corridor. Isabelle paused in front of a portrait of a distinguished-looking gentleman and his wife.

  “My husband’s parents,” Isabelle said.

  “I do believe His Grace resembles his handsome father,” Amber said. “Have both his parents passed away?”

  “The dowager duchess is still living,” Isabelle answered. “She is a remarkable woman. She taught me how to load and shoot a pistol.”

  “A pistol?” Amber echoed in surprise.

  Isabelle nodded. “Whenever you see my mother-in-law and her sister carrying large reticules, they are armed and dangerous.”

  “Knowledge of pistols could be a useful talent,” Amber said. “Perhaps, you could teach me sometime.”

  A sudden, ungodly cacophony of screeching sounds came from the opposite end of the corridor. Amber whirled around. “What is that noise?”

  “Those are the dulcet sounds of my untalented daughters having their music lesson.” Isabelle looped her arm through Amber’s. “Let’s look in on them.”

  The women started down the corridor toward the music room. Nearing it, they heard the long-suffering teacher, saying, “No, girls. Let’s try this again.”

  Isabelle and Amber walked into the room. “I hear a definite improvement,” the duchess praised her daughters. “Princess Amber, I present Mr. Barton, Stratford’s music teacher. You have met Lily, Elizabeth, and Giselle.”

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Amber told the teacher, who bowed over her hand. She looked at the girls. “I play the mandolin and the piano.”

  “I play the flute,” the duchess said. “Shall we give them a duet?”

  “I would enjoy that.”

  Ten-year-old Lily rose from the piano bench so the princess could sit. Eight-year-old Elizabeth passed her mother the flute.

  Amber looked at the duchess. “Play something, and I will follow your tune.”

  Isabelle lifted the flute to her lips. Recognizing the composition, Amber began her accompaniment. Their melody possessed a jaunty air that conjured elemental sounds: dancing sunbeams, chuckling brooks, wildflowers frolicking in a meadow.

  “Bravo,” Mr. Barton called. The three girls applauded.

  The princess and the duchess curtsied to their audience of four and left the music room. The off-key, screeching sounds began again before they had taken ten steps.

  “Let’s escape outside,” Isabelle suggested. “Do you have any other talents?”

  “I bake and garden.”

  “Do you sew, too?”

  Amber nodded. “I sew whenever anger incites me to mutilation.”

  Isabelle laughed. “One cannot hang for attacking a piece of cloth.”

  Amber and Isabelle walked outside. The duchess was not what she would have expected. The earl’s sister was cheerful and friendly.

  “I’m glad my brother and you are becoming acquainted,” Isabelle said, as they strolled through the formal gardens. “Do you like children?”

  “I adore children and hope to have a large family,” Amber answered. “I was an only child.”

  “Tell me
about your family.”

  “After the deaths of my parents, I lived with Rudolf’s father. Tell me about the earl.”

  “Before the fire, Miles devoted himself to his family,” Isabelle answered. “You must possess magical powers to have persuaded him to venture into Stratford.”

  “Miracles happen every day.”

  “His scars do not bother you?”

  “What do you mean by bother?”

  “Frighten or disgust.”

  Amber smiled at the duchess. “There are worse things in life than scars.”

  “I am relieved to hear you say that,” Isabelle said. “Miles nearly died from his burns and then relapsed when he realized Brenna had not survived. I don’t want my brother hurt again.”

  “I will be a devoted wife if he will have me,” Amber promised.

  Before the duchess could reply, the sound of a little girl laughing reached them. Amber saw the earl and his daughter in the distance, disappearing into an enormous playhouse.

  “Let’s join them,” Isabelle said.

  Nearing the playhouse, Amber heard the earl say, “I would love another cup of tea, Lady Caroline.” She smiled at the thought that he enjoyed fatherhood. This was a side to the earl she had not seen.

  “Princess Amber, do you think Lady Caroline is home?” Isabelle asked in a loud voice.

  “I do not think anyone is home.”

  “I’m here,” Caroline called, opening the door. “Princess, will you drink tea with me?”

  “I would love a cup of tea.” Amber turned to the duchess. “Your Grace, will you join us?”

  “I must consult with Dobbs about our luncheon,” Isabelle refused. “Another time, perhaps.”

  Amber stepped into the playhouse and laughed. More than six feet tall, the earl looked exceedingly silly sitting at a child’s table.

  “Sit here, Princess,” Caroline said.

  Amber lifted the cup to sip the make-believe brew. “What delicious tea.”

  “I didn’t pour yours yet,” Caroline said, and grinned when her father laughed. “Did you hear the gossip about Lady Begood?”

  “No,” Miles and Amber said simultaneously.

  “Lady Begood let Lord Naughty get familiar with her,” Caroline said in a loud whisper.

  Again Miles and Amber laughed. “Do you know what get familiar with means?” the earl asked.