“No,” Luci decided. “I may not know him well, but I can tell that Lord Ambergrave is not that sort. He may be odd and even callous, but I cannot envision him being cruel.”
When Derwall returned with a small platter of breads and delicate rolls, Luci smiled gratefully and thanked him. Then, as if to repair any initial harm, she stopped him.
“Derwall, please tell Cook that I will not need my supper as of yet after all,” she said most humbly. “Please tell her I will wait for Lord Ambergrave. Should he be prevented for too long, though, a simple plate in my chambers will suffice.”
The butler returned Luci’s smile heartily and nodded. “Very good, My Lady.”
Chapter 8
Lady Thornshire sat alone in her morning room despite the late hour, barely nibbling at the piece of dry toast she’d requested. Her teacup sat full but cold, as she had no desire to even lift the cup let alone drink from it. Since Luci had gone, she found that her house was empty of the girl’s vibrant spirit.
She knew it was uncommon for such a bond to exist between mother and daughter, especially of their station, and as such she had truly treasured it. Luci had been more than just her child—her only living child, that is, after suffering the loss of two others before Luci—she had also been her constant companion. Whether riding or visiting or going to London to buy for the Season, her daughter had always been by her side.
And now, she was no longer there. Lady Thornshire had none but the servants to keep her company when her husband was away, and she knew she could never press upon them to go for a ride in the phaeton or play a hand of whist.
“My dear, you’re up rather late, are you not?” Lord Thornshire said, coming into the room and straightening his waistcoat. He noticed the untouched food and drink, but said nothing.
“I suppose I might be,” she answered, trying to look cheerful for her husband’s sake, “but I couldn’t fall asleep and there was no sense in trying any longer.”
“Did you take a draught for it?” he asked, frowning at the dark circles that were not usually so visible.
“I don’t care for anything to help me sleep, I wake to find that I don’t much remember anything,” Lady Thornshire said. “I suffer a fitful night’s rest, filled with odd dreams and such.”
Lord Thornshire sat down in the chair opposite his wife and rested his elbows upon his knees. He looked up at her gravely and said, “It’s her letter, isn’t it? That’s what has you in such a state?”
A tear escaped the corner of Lady Thornshire’s eye, and she nodded. “I had no idea she would be so unhappy. I knew her heart would long for Lord Stillscar for some time, but I truly thought once she and Lord Ambergrave became accustomed to one another, that a sort of respect and friendship might form.”
“As did I, Angeline,” her husband agreed. “Why, you and I knew each other not before we wed, and look at the fondness that has grown between us. It has weathered even the worst of tragedies. The loss of the boys within minutes of their birth, the loss of my business and our fortune… why, a couple who had not placed so high a value on the bonds of marriage would have fallen to their separate ways by now.”
“But we had Luci to bind us together,” Lady Thornshire reminded him. “Our love for her forged a family, not merely a couple. What is to befall us now that she is moved on and we’re left here like an unwanted Michaelmas candle?”
“My dear, don’t be troubled. In time, she will adjust,” he insisted.
“Do you truly believe so, or does that only assuage your guilt for sending her away to cover your own debts?” his wife said, accusing him. He looked aghast, but she added, “Do not play the part of the innocent, wronged man. You know that is why she’s in this precarious position.”
“I had to do it,” Lord Thornshire said softly, wounded deeply by his wife’s words. “I was thinking not of our plight, but hers. She would have fallen into ruin had I not. At least this way she is unhappy but well cared for, instead of unhappy and wretchedly poor.”
Lady Thornshire sniffled for a moment, but then closed her eyes and nodded. She reached for her husband’s hand and held it to her cheek adoringly.
“I know,” she admitted sadly. “You are right, of course, and I’m sorry for having spoken so harshly. I am merely suffering from a broken heart at losing her.”
“All will be well, Angeline,” Edgar whispered. “We have to trust that she will find happiness in her new life, and not think selfishly of wanting to keep her for ourselves. Trust me, in time, we will all wonder why we were ever distressed.”
Bradley had spent the past three days trying to come up with a plan, some way to secure the funds he desperately needed. He could not think of another lender who would extend him credit, nor another associate who would front him a loan. Everywhere he turned, there was no one who could help him.
In his desperation, a sudden thought occurred to him. All this time, he had been attempting to earn an adequate fortune to present himself to Lord Thornshire. But why must the man know the truth? He did not have to submit his bankbook, after all. And no respectable man would refuse to take him at his word.
Thus, Bradley borrowed a carriage and driver from another man who lived in town, dressed himself in his finest, and set out for Alden House. Along the way, he formulated precisely what he would say.
But when he reached the gates, his resolve began to wane. This would either solve all of his problems, or cause him such great humiliation that he could not show his face again in the ton.
He wished he had a small draught of whisky to steel his nerves. Either way, I will know my fate soon enough.
The driver pulled into the circular path before the front of the house and climbed down, then opened the door for Bradley. The earl bade the driver wait but half an hour at most, then climbed the wide marble steps that led to the door. As he lifted his hand to ring the bell, the door opened narrowly and a footman appeared.
“Yes?” he said simply.
“I am Bradley, Earl of Stillscar, come to see Lord Thornshire,” Bradley explained in a formal way.
“This way, My Lord.” The footman opened the door wider and led Bradley into the front foyer where the butler, Pierson, quickly appeared. Bradley placed his card on the butler’s tray and was escorted into a small but inviting drawing room.
While he waited, Bradley looked about at the room, taking note of its many books standing sentry on high shelves. The paintings adorning the walls were very old, displaying oversized renditions of former occupants of the family estate for all to see.
The effect was almost nauseatingly typical.
Bradley had only come into his title when his mother had married again after his father’s death. As the breathtakingly rich widow of a successful merchant, she provided what every good noble family needed: money tied to the mere promise of a title. His stepfather, the Duke of Renfeld, had arranged for an earldom for Bradley as a show of gratitude for the coffers his mother brought to the marriage, but upon her death last year, Bradley discovered that almost none of her vast funds had come to him.
“Society would benefit from a greater number of self-made men,” the Duke had told him when he set him up with a paltry three thousand pounds per year salary. “You have an estate and a fine education, thanks to me… now it’s up to you to make something of it.”
Now, Bradley intended to do just that. He was standing in Lord Thornshire’s—what was this room? a smoking room? a drawing room? He knew not, only that he did not have such a grand space in his already extravagant residence. In any event, he would speak to the man about marrying his daughter and then he would have all that he desired.
Bradley heard footsteps approaching and turned to look at the doorway, an eager and hopefully inviting smile on his face. Instead of Lord Thornshire, though, the butler had returned.
“My apologies, Your Lordship, but Lord Thornshire is unable to meet with you at this time,” Pierson announced stoically. “He is not certain that he will have any tim
e in the near future, either.”
“But it is an urgent matter, please inform him,” Bradley said, already feeling the familiar twinge of desperation. “I should like to speak with him about his daughter.”
“I’m sorry, but the Lady Ambergrave no longer resides here.” The butler waited cautiously, as if knowing that this announcement would be a most unwelcome surprise.
“What did you say? Lady Ambergrave?” Bradley asked, not certain that he’d heard the man correctly.
“Yes, Your Lordship. Lord and Lady Thornshire’s daughter has married and now resides with her husband at Ashworth Hall. If you’ll come this way, I will show you to your carriage now,” Pierson added in a more clipped tone, firmly ending their conversation and Bradley’s visit.
And thereby ending Bradley’s hopes as well.
Outside, Bradley stumbled down the wide steps that only moments ago had led to his last chance at a happy, secure future. He climbed into the carriage as a cold numbness spread through his limbs, chilling his heart. He sat back against the seat and waited for the inevitably long road to carry him to his residence in town.
As they pressed on, it seemed as if every passerby was in the greatest of spirits. Try as he might, Bradley could not find a single individual who looked as wretched as he felt. Even laborers going about their work or vendors pushing their carts of wares towards the center of town were in a better mood than he.
And they’re in better stead, as well. They at least know where their next piece of bread may come from. I, on the other hand, have nothing to offer and nothing to show.
The driver left him at his rooms and Bradley ducked inside before anyone could see him. He’d had visits from creditors as of late and was in no mood to make promises about payment that he could not meet. Behind the safety of the closed, locked door, he took off his coat and hung his hat on the stand, then fell down on the sofa.
“What has she done?” Bradley muttered, secure in unleashing his emotions in the sanctuary of his privacy. “She had sworn her affection to me. And how soon she has forgotten me and moved on!”
Torn between confusion over this turn of events and worry about the future, Bradley’s mind churned with choices. How would he even begin to seek employment? Were there no elderly matrons in need of escorts to public events? Could he relinquish this flat to a tenant and live in the estate house? Would the rent on these lodgings afford him enough income to live reasonably? What would he do on his estate, some hours ride from town?
The thinking and the planning were tiring, of course, and Bradley was in no mood to expend the effort. He barely had the strength of mind to turn to his side and retrieve the gold trinket he’d stolen from Lord Thornshire’s home, partly to sell for quick funds but also out of petty anger over the marriage of the daughter Bradley had hoped to marry.
Tossing the trinket on the table nearby, Bradley finally pushed himself up from the sofa and began to pace. A new plan had formed in his mind, one that reeked of such desperation that he wasn’t sure he lacked the self-awareness to go through with it. Though truth be told, there was not much else Bradley could do.
It’s hardly palatable and I’d want to challenge me to a duel for it, let alone anyone else who may be so offended.
But it was the only course he could envision. In his mind, Bradley could see the events as they played out. The more he thought on it, the more delightful it began to seem.
The only way to undo this suffering was to go to Ashworth Hall and convince Lady Ambergrave to run away with him. He would set out as soon as the details were firm.
Chapter 9
“Lady Ambergrave? What are you doing in here?”
Luci sat up suddenly, unaware she had fallen asleep. Her face smarted from where it had rested on the edge of the table, and touching it, she knew it would be creased and red. But that was of no consequence now. She looked at Lord Ambergrave where he stood, and her rage almost got the better of her.
No. You’ve done enough tongue-lashing and grousing!
“I was waiting for you. You invited me to dine, or have you forgotten?” she said, silently adding the words, “since only an hour ago.”
“No, I hadn’t forgotten, but I assumed you would actually rather not come down here,” he answered, though he was not unkind in his response. “I had something urgent to attend to, I apologize for that, and I simply assumed you would remain in your chambers when I didn’t come for you.”
“I see. Well, I forgive you,” Luci said with a false brightness in her tone.
“I did not ask your forgiveness,” Lord Ambergrave said, a slight upturn to the corners of his mouth that looked dangerously close to a hint of smile, but Luci shook her head in an attempt at playfulness.
“You should have. So I simply expedited the conversation and forgave you before you had to trouble yourself with the words.”
Her sweet smile burned in her blood, belying her true feelings of petty anger. But Christina had been right. This was her lot now, and she would not be one to grow bitter and age before her time from resentment.
“Since you are here and your urgent appointment surely prevented you from dining, won’t you sit?” Luci asked, nodding to the seat across from her.
The Marquess was silent and unmoving, and for a moment Luci feared he might reject her invitation in the most humiliating way. He surprised her by nodding and marching around the table to his seat, then nodding curtly to a servant who carried forward their plates.
“Shall we have a conversation about the weather, then?” Luci teased. “Or perhaps the latest piece of gaudy music that everyone is performing in salons this season? Oh, I know! Shall we discuss the dreadful fashion of carrying a useless reticule in place of sturdy, serviceable pockets tied ‘round the waist?”
Lord Ambergrave surprised Luci by pretending to fall into a deep slumber and emitting a soft snore. She laughed in spite of herself, laughing even more merrily when he opened one eye and looked at her.
“Well, I suppose we could discuss the latest goings on in Parliament, the predictions for the price of imports from America, or the quality of horses coming down from Scotland, claiming to be of excellent pedigree?” she continued. When Lord Ambergrave’s head snapped up in surprise, she shot him a knowing smile. “Ah, you must not have known that I can converse rather intelligently on a number of important subjects. You’ll soon find that your wife is neither frivolous nor a simpleton.”
“I never mistook you for either of those things, I only…” he began, but did not finish the sentiment.
“You only…” Luci pressed before finishing for him, “did not know me well enough to venture a guess on my intelligence. Tell me, My Lord, what did cause you to seek my hand if both my appearance and my intellect have come as a revelation to you?”
The Marquess was prevented from answering by the arrival of their next course. Luci stared at him with determination as their glasses were filled once again and their plates replaced, but he did not respond.
Instead, Lord Ambergrave asked quietly, “Do you truly feel as though I bought you from your father?”
Luci looked away, burning with shame. “You were not intended to hear that.”
“But I did hear it, and it is impossible to erase it from my memory,” he continued, though his tone was not accusing. “Tell me.”
Luci took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet her husband’s green eyes. She willed herself to be strong as she said, “Yes, it does feel that way.”
“How so?” Lord Ambergrave asked, as though equal parts perplexed and genuinely interested.
“Did you once stop to inquire—from anyone, let alone me—whether or not I was already in love with someone?” Luci asked, fighting to keep her tone light. “Because I was, in case you never did discover the answer. I was in love with someone who had already made his intentions of marriage clear to me. But like a set of ribbons or a new hat that is put for sale in the shop, you beat him to it. You did not consider that anyone else might hav
e an interest to marry me? Or that I might already wish to marry someone else?”
“I admit, that had not occurred to me,” the Marquess conceded. “Though if that were the case, why would your father not have said as much to me?”
“My father did not yet know of it,” she replied, a faint twinge of embarrassment running through her at admitting their relationship was not yet formal. “This young gentleman would not hear of entering into a marriage agreement while he still had certain business dealings unresolved, lest he appear to be dishonorable and simply out for my father’s money.”
“That is… honorable, I must admit.” Lord Ambergrave was quiet for a moment, long enough that the silence grew uncomfortable between them, but then he said, “I do apologize if you were made to feel insignificant or merely the product of a business transaction.”
A Court of Thorns for Lady Ambergrave: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 7