But in order to enjoy their game, the Marquess had taken off his coat and hung it from a nail. The result was that he looked every bit the country rogue, his linen shirt having come untied at the neck and his reddish hair unkempt from chasing and diving for the ball. The result was breathtaking, and Luci was rather surprised to know how his appearance stirred her heart.
It was not only his physical appearance that was so pleasing, of course, but rather the beauty that coincided with his demeanor. The stiff and proper Lord Ambergrave had transformed himself into a gentle, endearing man who was enjoying a game of sport with some local boy.
So he can be quite pleasant, and is that beautiful expression on his face…dare I say, a smile? She grinned in spite of herself. But who was this boy?
As Luci watched, the two continued to play while calling out to one another, laughing and making a game of trying to force the other one to run for the ball. Her heart sank as it became painfully clear.
This is Lord Ambergrave’s son! Her misery was compounding. I’m sure of it, and it only makes my position as an intruder in both this household and the marriage all the more obvious.
She was not threatened by his station, though. From the cut of his work clothes and the patches of mud here and there, this was clearly the child of some local woman whom the Marquess could never have married.
Luci’s cheeks flamed with anger and humiliation. It tore at her heart to know she had given up her real chance at love and happiness to be the wife of a man who didn’t want her… and never would. It brought clarity to the question that had eaten at her like a pest all this time, the question of why he should have chosen her without ever laying eyes on her.
It was obvious. What did it matter what she looked like, or whether she was funny or clever, if she would never be the woman he’d wanted but couldn’t have?
“Collin!” a woman shouted, causing Luci to jump.
“Ah, that will be your mother,” Lord Ambergrave said, laughing. “Best you run along and see what she needs.”
Oh, God, the boy’s mother is here? And on the very same grounds as my home? This is an insult that I shall never live down. Tears stung at Luci’s eyes as she turned to flee. In her haste to be away from there, she forgot about her sore foot and stumbled, crashing loudly into some items that had been stored beside the hothouse.
“Who’s there?” Lord Ambergrave called out from somewhere behind her, but Luci did not answer. “Stop, who’s there?”
Instead, she turned and limped as best she could, fighting the blinding anger and tears that obscured her view. Moving as only her injured foot would allow, Luci caught the toe of her slipper against a cobblestone and pitched forward, no longer caring if she fell.
Chapter 13
“Lady Ambergrave?” the Marquess asked, catching her before she could strike the ground painfully. “What are you doing out here?”
Pushing his hands away and righting herself, Luci thrust her chin up and answered, “I could ask the same of you, only I saw with my own eyes. Visiting your son before you left on another of your mysterious trips, were you?”
Lord Ambergrave stared at Luci, an unreadable expression on his face. For a moment, she took his silence as agreement, but she cringed instead when he said in a low voice, “You think that boy was my son?”
“Well, I did… until you said that, at least,” Luci admitted haughtily. “But it did appear so.”
Lord Ambergrave reached for his coat from behind him and thrust his arms furiously into the sleeves, tugging it firmly into place in front of him. He took a step closer and Luci instinctively moved back a pace. He narrowed his eyes angrily as he stared at her, and she could see the clenching of his jaw that told her he was mulling over his words.
“You think me the kind of man to father a bastard child and hide him away on my property,” he finally said through gritted teeth, “hiring him as a laborer instead of claiming him as my rightful heir and raising him as my son? And worse, that I would cast off his mother for… what, her lowly birth?”
“Honestly? I don’t know what to think,” Luci shot back, regaining her courage. “And I truly don’t know what sort of person you are. You could be a scoundrel of the worst degree, a highwayman who robs carriages in the night, a… a murderer, for all I know. For the little that I knew of you before you brought me here, you should be glad that the worst I think of you is to have a son you don’t acknowledge.”
Luci steeled herself for Lord Ambergrave’s wrath, knowing that she might deserve whatever reply he threw at her. But she was not sorry. No matter how insulting it may seem, it had to be said.
Instead of anger, though, Lord Ambergrave’s hard expression softened. He looked away in shame, ducking his head slightly.
“You’re right.”
“I am?” she asked meekly, her heart filling with trepidation. “That’s… that was your son?”
“What?” Lord Ambergrave’s head snapped up to look at her. “Oh no! No! I only meant… that I have not been fully honest with you. It is terribly unfair to you, but I intend to be forthright, as soon as I am able.”
“What does that even mean?” Luci demanded, her anger returning. “You speak in such puzzles, My Lord.”
“I know, I’m making a mess of things.” He stepped closer, but this time Luci did not shirk away. He looked down at her with an earnest look in his eye and said, “I have not told you everything, but I will. But please understand that I am only beginning to understand all of it myself. I need time to sort it out and to make some amends, and then I will make you informed. Can you be patient but a while?”
Luci wanted to look away, to avoid the penetrating gaze that pinned her back, but he held her captive with his heartbreaking look. She nodded silently, but then murmured, “Yes, I can.”
The sheer relief on Lord Ambergrave’s face was nearly her undoing. She suddenly felt lightheaded, and a new well of unexpected emotions rose up in her chest, making it difficult to catch her breath.
Slowly, the Marquess looked down and reached for her hand, taking it in his gently as though she were made of delicate porcelain. He stared at her thin fingers as he turned them over in his hand, then raised her palm to his lips and pressed a soft kiss there. The sensation made Luci gasp as the shock of it traveled up her arm, filling her with a peculiar sort of feeling.
When Lord Ambergrave met her eye, there was a look there that Luci had never seen before, not in him or in any other man. It was equally inviting and wanting, and it thrilled her in some inexplicable way.
Swallowing back her nerves, Luci whispered, “Then who was that boy?”
Lord Ambergrave blinked as if some strange spell had been broken. He looked around as though remembering where he was, and said, “Oh, Collin? He’s the gardener’s child. His father worked here for many years until…”
“Until… the fire, you mean?” Luci finished for him when his words were lost to him. “The fire in which you were burned?”
For a moment, Luci thought the Marquess was going to turn and run from her. He looked greatly pained at her utterance, and briefly shook his head as though to deny it.
“I saw your leg this morning, My Lord,” Luci reminded him before he could say anything, clinging to his hand that still held her fingers lest he walk away. “It is nothing to be upset about.”
“You don’t know…” he began, but the Marquess stopped. He cleared his throat and continued, saying, “You don’t know all of it.”
“But I shall. You said so. Though I can wait until you’ve—what was the word—sorted it through?” Luci said kindly. “That is your tale to tell when you see fit. I only mean to say that if you do not ride horses or wade in a lovely brook on a warm day because you do not wish for anyone to glimpse the scars, then I am here to tell you there is nothing to be upset about.”
“Is it not hideous?” he asked, avoiding her eyes. “The sort of thing young ladies would shy away from or whisper about to one another? ‘Oh, don’t look now, the
burned man is coming this way and he might wish to dance?’”
“Not any ladies I know and associate with,” Luci assured him firmly. “And any ladies in my presence who spoke so hatefully would be very sorry they’d said a word when I was through with them.”
Lord Ambergrave smiled thinly, a newfound admiration in his expression.
“But I heard you say his mother was calling for him. Where is the boy’s father now?” she asked. A shadow crossed over his face.
“He died in the fire,” the Marquess said.
Luci pressed her other hand to her mouth, concealing a cry. “But I thought you said no one was harmed.”
“No, I was careful to say that no one was injured. It was wrong of me to speak falsely, even in such a small way,” he explained. “But I did not wish to ruin your outing with talk of tragedy here.”
“I see. It was polite of you to be so concerned for my happiness, but I think you know by now that I am much stronger than many of my peers.”
“Yes, I am starting to understand that,” Lord Ambergrave said with a nervous chuckle. “But as you asked, the gardener perished in his effort to save me from the fire. The boy was but an infant at the time, and never got to know his father.”
“And so he remains here?” Luci asked, impressed.
“Of course. I could not think of turning them out after their great loss and the tremendous debt of gratitude I owe,” he said, looking over to see that Collin was still far from earshot. “He and his mother live in that cottage over there, and they have taken on various roles over the years I’ve been away.”
“So, you put them to work, you mean?” she asked, cringing. It was not the kindest way to repay someone for your life.
“At their insistence,” he continued, understanding her meaning. “They wouldn’t have it any other way. And Collin is quite skilled with the gardens, as you can see, as was his father. His mother, Mrs. Drummond, has simply been a presence on the estate to alert me to issues in my absence, for which I pay her a salary. It is the very least I can do for those whose husband and father literally died to save my life.”
Together, Luci and Lord Ambergrave fell into a contemplative silence, one that was only broken when Luci suddenly placed her hands on the Marquess’ lapels and stood up on her toes, then kissed him.
What she had meant to be a brief but heartfelt gesture became so much more when she felt the Marquess’ hands go to her arms, holding her closely to him. His lips moved softly against hers, and she felt a longing in that kiss that bespoke years of hurt, years of feeling unworthy and unloved.
Surprised at her own boldness, Luci soon stepped back, but could not help the smile that turned up the corners of her mouth. She chanced an embarrassed glance at the Marquess, but he looked pleased as well.
“What was that for?” he asked softly, still holding Luci by the arms.
“For being the man who would see to someone’s care, who would not turn out the widow or orphaned child,” she said tearfully. “It is the first honorable thing I’ve learned of you, but if it is any indication of your character, I am certain it will not be the last nor the most important.”
A fleeting look of pain flashed over the Marquess’ face, and he simply responded, “I fear I am going to prove myself entirely unworthy of your compliment… and your affection.”
“I refuse to believe that,” she answered proudly, taking his hand again. “And I shall not dare you to prove me wrong.”
“Angeline! Look what I’ve found!” the Duchess of Hardigree called out, crossing over the veranda with a paper in her hand. Lady Thornshire looked up from her stitching and waited expectantly.
Lady Hardigree settled comfortably on a seat and unfolded the paper, then read it over once again silently to make sure she had it right. Her sister watched her face to see if she could decipher what sort of meaning the letter held.
“Here it is, a response to my inquiry about this Lord Ambergrave,” Lady Hardigree said gravely. “I am both elated and disturbed by the contents.”
“But what does it say? What sort of man is he?” Lady Thornshire demanded, growing anxious.
“Well, according to my husband’s cousin, Lord Ambergrave is undeniably wealthy,” she began, holding the letter at arm’s length to read it over again. “His money is in trade, much of it in luxury goods like spices and horses, but even in more serviceable resources like cotton and timber.”
“That’s rather respectable,” Lady Thornshire agreed, her fear abating slightly. “But what of the scandalous part? Move ahead to that.”
“I’m getting to it. And it’s not so much a scandal as it is a situation that gives me pause.” Lady Hardigree was quiet while she skimmed down further in the letter, her lips moving as she read it to herself again. “Ah, yes. His family.”
“What of them? Edgar never mentioned them, so I assumed everything was in order.”
“No, my dear. They passed away some time ago. But there was no word on how they died. What’s worse,” Lady Hardigree continued, lowering her voice and looking around, “there were rumors that they died in a fire, one that Lord Ambergrave may have started.”
Lady Thornshire pressed her hand to her mouth and looked as though she might faint. What sort of man was responsible for the death of his own parents? And what did that forebode for her daughter?
“You know, Angeline, this isn’t even what bothers me about the Marquess of Ambergrave,” the Duchess said, looking thoughtful. “It’s that no one nearby seems to have heard of him. His family home stood empty for years, and then he suddenly appears and begins to work his way into society.”
“And that strikes you as odd?” Lady Thornshire asked, waiting eagerly for an explanation.
“Quite odd. I’ve heard tales of imposters taking others’ names and fortunes, you know. Remember that one tale from when we were girls? That base, lowly girl passed herself off as the niece of some dowager countess, appearing at all the parties and balls and worming her way into everyone’s good graces. Oh, what was her name?” Lady Hardigree waved her hand as though it was no of no consequence. “Fortunately, she was discovered before her wedding to that wide-eyed fellow she’d snared could take place.”
Lady Thornshire was quiet, pondering the memory of that poor girl being forcibly removed from her aunt’s home. While she did not wish to argue with her sister, she had always wondered if there wasn’t some work of jealousy at play when that shameful incident had occurred.
After all, the Viscount of Trevon had been one of the most sought-after young gentlemen the season that she and her sister were out. Quite a few young ladies had intended to put their claws in him, and more than a few friendships had been dissolved over their affections for him.
“In any event, I do not see anything that should give us reason to fear,” the Duchess said, turning the pages of the letter over and looking to see if there was anything writ on the reverse.
“Nothing to fear? Did you not hear the same words I did?” Lady Thornshire cried. “My daughter may be in grave danger. Her life may be in peril from this man.”
“Now Angeline, you have no reason to think so. Rumors of an incident quite a few years ago are hardly a cause to be so distressed,” Lady Hardigree said calmly.
“They’re hardly a cause to host a nuptial ball, either. He may have killed his parents, and you don’t think Luci is in peril?”
Lady Thornshire fell back against her chair and fanned herself, covering her eyes with her hand. The weeks of torment had finally caught up to her, and she was overcome at what she had put her daughter through.
For her part, the Duchess of Hardigree was having none of it.
“Sit up, Angeline!” she barked, exasperated. “You’re so melodramatic, you always have been, but now you’re acting like a bit player in a third-rate opera. If you are so concerned for her safety, you should pay her a visit.”
“Yes! A visit!” Lady Thornshire said, sitting up once again and somehow casting off her agony with a b
road smile. “I shall write to her at once.”
“But not until the end of the month,” her sister warned ominously with an attempt at a delicate sniffle. “I don’t wish to be alone while Alistair is away, and mortal danger or not, you simply can’t leave me alone until after my ball.”
Chapter 14
The following morning dawned gray and chilly, despite the beauty of the day before. Luci couldn’t help but liken the sudden arrival of rain to the way her sentiments mourned.
Lord Ambergrave was gone. He’d left a note for her that was sent up with her correspondence, and endearing though it was, it left her feeling rather hollow.
“And what does His Lordship have to say for himself?” Christina had teased when she saw Luci reading the paper.
A Court of Thorns for Lady Ambergrave: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 11