The Earl's Prize (Harlequin Historical)

by Nicola Cornick

  As soon as the words were out she shrank back under the horse chestnut tree, seeking its cooling shade on her hot cheeks. She did not dare to look at Joss. She was seldom so forthright, but he had asked what else he could do for her and she had given an honest answer. As the silence stretched to several heartbeats, Amy wished fervently that she had lied.

  ‘Once again you surprise me, Miss Bainbridge. Surely that is something we have already done—if you remember?’ Joss’s voice was light, unreadable, but there was something in his tone that made Amy start to burn, shade or not. She knew instinctively that he was not going to refuse her.

  She raised her chin. ‘Strictly speaking, my lord, that is incorrect. It was an action that you took of your own accord. It was not one of the stipulations of the debt. Besides, this is a kiss goodbye, which is different.’

  Their eyes met. Joss’s were very dark, but there was a smile lurking in the depths and it made Amy’s toes curl.

  ‘So, what would you like me to do?’ His voice was smooth. ‘As this is part of the debt and is therefore your call, Miss Bainbridge…’

  ‘I would like you to come here.’ Amy’s voice was no more than a shaky whisper. Her legs felt weak and she was trembling. When Joss obligingly crossed the small space between them and came to stand directly before her, she thought she might give up breathing altogether.

  ‘And now?’ Joss’s tone was very soft.

  Amy cleared her throat. ‘Must you make this so difficult for me?’

  ‘I am sorry.’ Joss smiled. ‘Will this do?’

  It was not a question that Amy could answer immediately. He kissed her with a thoroughness that left her breathless, his hands smoothing her body’s curves against the hard length of his to a devastating effect. Amy felt the liquid heat race through her, kindled by his touch. She drew back with a gasp, leaning against the rough bark of the tree, relieved at the support its sturdy trunk provided.

  Joss did not speak, only looked at her.

  ‘Yes,’ she gasped, ‘that will do very well.’

  Joss laughed. ‘For you perhaps, Amy.’ His tone was husky. ‘Now I find that I need something on my own account.’

  Amy’s gaze was riveted to his and she jumped when his fingers touched the back of her neck, drawing her gently forward so that her lips met his again. A soft groan escaped her. The kiss was light and teasing at first, but still the heat returned to her body with an aching intensity that shocked her, yet somehow drew her on. She kept quite still allowing the sensuous excitement to course through her as his lips and tongue explored hers in ways she had never even imagined. Her hands came up to Joss’s chest, to curl against his jacket, then slid of their own volition around his neck so that she could entangle her fingers in his hair and kiss him more deeply. It was only when Joss’s hand slid from the nape of her neck to caress the hollow at the base of her throat then move lower still, that Amy recoiled, abruptly shaken back to reality.

  She could not let this go any further, no matter how strongly she desired it. Already she could not bear the thought of leaving him. She did not want to set off for Nettlecombe with her heart broken and her future in tatters.

  She stepped back, out of his embrace. ‘Joss, please—’

  Joss looked as though he was awakening from a dream. He removed himself abruptly from her proximity, putting at least three feet between them. ‘Forgive me, Amy. I had no wish to frighten you.’

  ‘I was not afraid,’ Amy said tremulously, ‘but it did not seem such a very good idea after all.’

  She knew she was not expressing herself at all well and then she saw the expression on Joss’s face, the lightning flash of pain in his eyes that was gone so swiftly it seemed almost as though she had imagined it. She put out a hand to him.

  ‘Oh, Joss, I am sorry—I did not mean it to sound like that! Only you must see the folly of it! I am to leave London and you…’ Her voice trailed away. She could not speak for him, she did not even know whether there was any equality in their situation. For her to be in Joss’s arms was the sweetest thing, but for him? This was a man whose relationships with women were never sincere in the sense she wanted. She had to be a fool even to dream of it and in future her memories would be all she had.

  She saw Joss’s expression harden slightly, saw all emotion wiped from his face and he stood back to allow her to precede him back on to the track. It was only five minutes to the inn and from there it would be a swift journey back to London. And that would be that. She could go to Nettlecombe with a memory to warm her of the time that she invited the most notorious rakehell in London to kiss her. It had been an adventure. The whole week had been an adventure. And yet…Amy avoided looking at Joss as the outskirts of the village drew near. And yet it suddenly seemed too late to avoid a broken heart. If she was honest—and she always was—she knew that Joss Tallant had stolen her heart and soul.

  ‘There you are, my love!’ Lady Bainbridge was sitting by the fire in the parlour at Curzon Street and was feeding what looked like a large quantity of papers into the flames. Amy paused on the threshold. The room was like a furnace for the fire was roaring fit to set the chimney on fire and all the windows were closed. Amy’s head, which had ached incessantly on the silent journey back to London, now felt as though it was about to explode. She had seldom felt so miserable in her life.

  She had said a formal goodbye to Joss at the corner of the street. Under the interested eye of his groom he had thanked her for her company during the week and wished her well for the future. Amy had been equally cool and courteous. And, despite his previous assurance that he would visit her at Nettlecombe, Amy had thought it unlikely that she would see Joss again.

  ‘Mama, what are you doing?’ she asked mildly, striving not to take her pent-up misery out on her mother. ‘Those look like letters—’

  ‘They are, my dear! So useful.’ Lady Bainbridge beamed. ‘Now we do not need to use up any more coal!’

  ‘It is quite warm enough to do without a fire,’ Amy observed. ‘Besides, Mama, we can afford the coal now. There is no need to scrimp and scrape any longer.’

  Lady Bainbridge looked downcast. ‘I fear I cannot stop, my love. I have got into such a habit now. Besides, who knows how long the money will last? Which is why you should not be giving it away to any of these people.’

  Amy came up to the table and picked up the top letter from the pile that was being consigned to the flames.

  ‘Dear ma’am,’ she read, ‘I here as you as won some money and was wondering if you could spare some for me. I am a widow woman and my little ones need food and medicine—’ She broke off abruptly. ‘Mama, what is this?’

  ‘Begging letters,’ Lady Bainbridge said with a shudder. ‘Now that the truth is out, people have been dropping letters in all day. This one here—’ she thrust it under Amy’s nose ‘—this is from Lady Belmarsh! She has signed it Mrs Otter and thinks I will not realise the real author, but I recognise the way she writes her letters! The “T” gives her away! To think that she has sunk to this!’

  Amy frowned. ‘I cannot believe…And you are burning them all! But there may be some genuine cases of hardship amongst them!’

  ‘Undoubtedly, my dear.’ Lady Bainbridge picked up another handful and stuffed them into the grate. The flames roared and the edges blackened. ‘There are always genuine cases, but how to tell? Are you to spend all your days checking who is needy and who is not? Besides, there are those such as this—’ Lady Bainbridge shuddered ‘—who do not deserve to be heard!’

  Amy glanced down at the letter in her mother’s shaking hand. ‘You scheming bitch, that money should be mine—’ she read. She pushed it away, revolted. ‘Oh, Mama!’

  ‘I know!’ Lady Bainbridge threw her a tearful look. ‘Another good reason for us to leave London!’

  Amy’s shoulders slumped. ‘I suppose so. I will go and start packing my bags.’

  ‘Oh, I forgot!’ Lady Bainbridge paused, her hands full of paper. ‘Amanda Spry is waiting for yo
u in the dining room. She says that it is urgent and she has been waiting a considerable time. I offered her tea in here with me, but she said she would wait in the cool. I suppose it is rather hot in here…’

  Amy went back out into the hall, breathing the cooler air with gratitude. The door of the dining room was half open and she went in. Amanda was sitting on one of the hard chairs, her head down her, shoulders drooping. She looked as abject as Amy felt. Amy hurried forward.

  ‘Amanda, I am so sorry to have kept you waiting so long! Would you—?’

  She broke off as her friend raised her gaze to hers. Amanda’s pretty face was swollen and tear-stained almost out of recognition. Amy went down on her knees on the carpet and clasped both of Amanda’s hands.

  ‘Amanda! Whatever has happened? What is the matter?’

  Amanda burst into a fresh bout of sobs. She sounded as though she was almost exhausted with crying and she had already shredded her sodden cambric handkerchief between her fingers. Then she had started on her gloves. Amy could see that she had unpicked a whole seam.

  ‘Oh, Amy, I am in such trouble and I need your help!’

  Amy frowned. ‘Well, of course, I will do whatever I can, but, Amanda, you must tell me—’

  ‘Twenty thousand pounds!’ Amanda said wildly. ‘I need twenty thousand pounds at once, Amy! Please say you will help me! If you do not, I shall be ruined!’

  Half an hour later, Amanda was tucked up in Amy’s bedroom and Patience was fussing round with warm milk and a soothing draught of laudanum. Amanda was almost transparent with exhaustion and could barely keep her eyes open. Amy had already sent a reassuring message to Amanda’s aunt explaining that Lady Spry would be staying with her that night and that there was no cause for alarm. Now, with the evening drawing on, she came to sit beside the bed and took Amanda’s hand in hers.

  ‘There now. Everything is organised and all will be well. You need do nothing except sleep and cease this worrying.’

  Amanda’s hand clung to hers. ‘The money—’

  ‘It will be yours. Do not worry about that now.’

  Two small tears seeped from beneath Amanda’s eyelids as though she were too weak to cry any more. The hair clung to her forehead with sweat. Amy thought it very likely that she was developing an ague.

  ‘Oh, Amy, I have been such a bad friend to you,’ Amanda wailed. ‘You have been so kind and I have not even told you what the money is for!’

  ‘You need not.’ Amy pushed away the terrifying thought of parting with twenty thousand pounds and told herself stalwartly that she would still have ten thousand to stand between her and penury. Amanda was her dearest friend and she could not—would not—let her down, even if it meant that her own circumstances were reduced.

  She patted her hand, anxious only that Amanda should not completely exhaust herself. ‘Tomorrow will be soon enough to sort everything out. Now, take your draught.’

  ‘No.’ Amanda pushed her hand away. ‘I must tell you everything first. I must!’

  ‘Very well,’ Amy could tell that her friend was so agitated that she would not rest until she had unburdened herself. ‘Do not neglect your milk, though!’

  ‘Very well.’ Amanda took a sip. ‘Where to start?’

  ‘Where is the beginning?’

  Amanda frowned. ‘I am not sure.’ She put the cup down with a rattle and knitted her hands together. ‘I fear that I am being blackmailed.’

  Amy stared. The idea seemed manifestly absurd. ‘Amanda, who could want to blackmail you and more to the point, about what?’

  Amanda looked away. ‘I…I suppose that I must tell you everything.’ She looked back at Amy. ‘I have had an anonymous letter demanding twenty thousand pounds to prevent the release of certain…letters…to the ton. Love letters. Do you understand me, Amy? If I do not meet the blackmailer tonight and make arrangements for payment, he will publish my letters in all the scandal sheets. I shall be utterly ruined!’

  Amy frowned. ‘Amanda, if the letter is anonymous—’

  ‘Oh, I know what you will say!’ Amanda made a wild gesture that almost knocked her cup of milk over. ‘If it is anonymous, how can I know the identity of the blackmailer? But you see, Amy, there is only one person who knows about the letters…and he has sent me one just to prove that he is in earnest.’

  Amy tried to work this out. ‘But who would do such a thing?’

  Amanda sighed, closing her eyes. She was parchment pale. ‘Let me tell you the whole story and then, perhaps, you will understand. I do not want you to think badly of me…’

  ‘Of course.’ Amy patted her hand.

  ‘I never wrote to you much about my marriage, did I? That was because I was so unhappy that I had no wish to talk about it. I allowed my mother to choose my husband for me, and Frank Spry was the man she chose. He…’ Amy shuddered ‘…he was not kind to me.’

  Amy sighed. ‘I am sorry, Mandy. Did nobody know?’

  ‘No, no one. I was so far away, you see. Frank was a gambler and when he was in his cups he would be free with his fists. He swiftly ran though my fortune and after that treated me with contempt. When I discovered that I was breeding he was furious—another mouth to feed, he said, when there was not enough for the two of us. We quarrelled and he…’ Amanda shook her head. ‘No matter. I lost the child and Frank was pleased, actually pleased!’ Her defiant gaze met Amy’s again. ‘After that, well…I could never care for him again and I took a lover.’ She gripped Amy’s hand again. ‘Please do not hate me!’

  ‘Oh, Mandy!’ Amy’s throat closed. ‘As if I could!’

  ‘I know most people would be obliged to condemn me.’ Amanda twisted uncomfortably in the bed. ‘And it was not as though I truly loved him, which makes it so much worse! But I was unhappy and it was part misery and part revenge—’ her voice rose ‘—and part just wanting to do something—’ she screwed up her face ‘—anything to show my defiance! So I had an affair and I wrote the man some indiscreet letters, and Frank found out…’

  ‘Oh, no…’ Amy grimaced. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Frank was set to banish me when he fell into an argument over some card-sharping and died in a duel. So I was a widow and thought all safe. I had parted from my lover some time before and had thought…’ Amanda plucked at the blankets ‘…that he had gone abroad. Alas for me that he has returned—and that he still has my letters! Even then I was slow to believe…I thought him a gentleman and not one to sink so low as blackmail!’

  A cold breath touched Amy’s heart. ‘Who was he, Amanda?’

  ‘It was Clive Massingham.’ Amanda peered at her friend. ‘Why, Amy, you look as white as a sheet! Whatever did you think?’

  Amy took a huge, shaky breath. Not even to herself could she admit that she had thought—just for a split second—that it might be Joss Tallant. She had known that she distrusted Joss’s reputation and deplored his relationships with women, but to have doubted him so far was a shocking betrayal.

  ‘I thought it might have been Sebastian Fleet,’ she said.

  Amanda smiled tiredly. ‘No. Oh, Fleet admires me and might wish to make me his mistress, but I have more sense than that now! No, I have learned my lesson the hard way, but it seems that, despite that, my sins will find me out!’

  ‘If it were only your word against Massingham’s—’

  ‘But it is not. He has the letters.’

  ‘Of course. He has proved it.’

  Amanda nodded slowly. ‘As I said, the blackmailer has sent me one of the letters. To help me make up my mind quickly, he said.’

  Amy sighed. ‘And you are to give him your reply tonight?’

  ‘Yes. That was why it was so urgent that I see you. I am to go to an address in St James’s later this evening.’ Amanda struggled a little as she tried to get out of bed and sank back with a sigh. ‘Oh, I feel so exhausted! I could think of nowhere to turn for the money except to you, Amy, although I knew you would despise me! But I have to pay or else Massingham will distribute my
letters about the ton and I shall be ruined! Truly, I think I should kill myself!’

  ‘Don’t speak like that, Mandy,’ Amy said quickly. ‘I will keep your assignation with the blackmailer and tell him that the money will be his as soon as I can arrange it. There is nothing for you to fear. You must stay here and rest.’

  Amanda’s gaze clung to hers. ‘You are so good a friend, Amy, and I have been so poor a one to you!’

  ‘Stuff!’ Amy went over to her wardrobe and started to rummage through. She needed a dark cloak and a hat with a veil. ‘Remember when we were at school and the others were always horrid to me because of my father being a gambler? I was lonely and miserable and you were always the one who defended me!’

  Amanda looked as though she was about to cry again. ‘I suppose that was so. Yet there is something else that I must tell you. It is nothing to do with this case—nothing at all—but you ought to know…’

  Amy’s hand stilled. She took the cloak from the wardrobe and came to sit down again. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It is Juliana Myfleet.’ Amanda sniffed. ‘You have remarked before that Juliana and I were friends in my first season. It was the year before you were out. Juliana was such fun but…’ she smiled sadly ‘…she gambled even then, and even though she was unmarried. It was scandalous, of course, but there…Anyway, when I came back up to town this spring I was determined to avoid her, but she sought me out.’ Amanda shrugged. ‘Once again she tried to involve me in high play, but I have little money now and more sense. I accidentally let slip to her that you had come into a fortune and that was why she inveigled you to gamble with her that night. Not just that—I deliberately left you alone at the tables with her so that she could try to fleece you! I am so sorry, Amy.’

  Amy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Amanda, were you the one who told Lady Juliana that I had won the money on the lottery?’

  Amanda evaded her gaze. ‘Oh, Amy!’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yes!’ Amanda burst out. ‘I am sorry. I owed her money—a trifling sum—but she said that she was willing to trade it for information about your fortune! The only thing I could think to tell her was that you had won thirty thousand pounds! Oh, I cannot bear it!’