The Earl's London Bride

by Lauren Royal

  He stood over her. “You still working on that blasted signet?”

  She looked up at him, but couldn’t find the energy to summon as much as annoyance.

  “It’s finished,” she said. “I’ll have it delivered in the morning.”

  FOUR

  “COLIN! DOWN here!”

  From along the ridge where he and nine others were grappling with a huge block of limestone, Colin glanced to the path below to see his brothers climbing from the carriage and Kendra leaning halfway out the window, waving wildly.

  “You’re early,” he called a minute later, heading down the rise. He wiped gritty palms on his linen breeches, his shirt billowing in the light wind that buffeted across Greystone’s quarry.

  “Early?” His older brother Jason laughed, pointing at the sky.

  Colin glanced straight up and then west to where the sun was nearly setting. “Sorry.” He shrugged. “I’ve been about since six this morn. In the woods, the fields…I reckon I lost track of the time.”

  “I reckon you lost your hat as well?” Kendra fixed him with a half-serious frown of reproach. “Look at you, brown as a gypsy!”

  With the back of one hand, he wiped at the sweat on his forehead. “Have you come to see the renovations, or to harp on my appearance?”

  “To harp on your appearance,” Kendra’s twin, Ford, answered for her. “But I’ve a curiosity to see your new kitchen. Pipes and taps…do they work due to a siphon effect, or is it simple gravity? In Isaac Newton’s new paper, he says—”

  “Criminy—how on earth should I know? I’m a farmer, not a scientist. They work because the mason put them in right.”

  “What I want to know”—Jason patted his stomach meaningfully—“is whether we’ll find food in this kitchen.”

  “Oh, yes.” Colin laughed. “Benchley’s been slaving since dawn, I expect. Go on up to the castle, and I’ll follow along shortly. Four quarrymen are down with the ague, and we’ve two more slabs to bring up.”

  “OD’S FISH, IT’S quiet here.” Kendra paused before climbing from the carriage into Greystone Castle’s little courtyard. “Listen.” A few low birdcalls, distant bleating from the fields, a faint rustle from the smattering of trees that stood sentinel around the tiny circular drive. “It sounds like no one’s home.”

  “No one is home,” Jason reminded her. “Colin has only Benchley for company until the renovations are further along, and he’s likely in the kitchen.”

  “Let’s go see the kitchen.” Ford urged them along. “Those pipes—”

  “The food—”

  “Those Chase stomachs!” Kendra laughed as they walked toward the door to Greystone’s modest living quarters. “I cannot say I’m surprised that Colin restored the kitchen first.”

  “A fellow’s got to eat,” Ford declared.

  “I could feed an entire village on what you three pack away in a day. Look…the door is ajar.” Her hand on the latch, Kendra stopped and turned back to watch their carriage pass under the barbican gate, the driver heading out to Colin’s stables. “And the drawbridge is down.”

  Jason’s green eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. “It probably hasn’t been up in a hundred years. What would be the point? There’s naught in this old place of interest to anyone.”

  “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “There she goes, leaping to conclusions again.” Ford pushed the door open and stepped inside the plain, square entry. “Egad, what is that on the floor?”

  “What?” Kendra took a step back.

  “Ouch!” Jason wrenched his foot from under hers. “Why do you insist on wearing those accursed high heels?” He shouldered his way past the twins. “Something spilled, is all.”

  Leaning down to touch one of the dark splotches, he rubbed the substance between his fingers, then sniffed and turned back to them slowly.

  “It’s blood.”

  “Blood?” Kendra squeaked.

  “Don’t get overwrought.” Jason grinned. “I’d wager it’s just one of Colin’s practical jokes.”

  Kendra took another step back. “Real blood a joke?”

  Ford put a hand on his twin sister’s shoulder. “Perhaps Benchley butchered something outside and failed to notice it dripping when he brought it through here. Look, the drops trail under the door to the great hall, toward the kitchen. I wonder what it is? I’m hoping for suckling pig.”

  The great hall’s door was ajar as well. Jason led the way into the gutted, roofless chamber, its pitted stone floor still scattered with rusted cannonballs from Cromwell’s last siege.

  “How couldn’t he have noticed it dripping?” Kendra’s voice was a whisper, her gaze riveted to the bloody trail. “It was pumping out here, from the looks of it.” She followed her brothers, stepping carefully. “A suckling pig!” she exclaimed, her voice rising. “More like a cow, I’ll warrant you. I’ve never seen so much—”

  “The latch…” At the far end of the hall, Jason had reached for the door, then jerked back his hand. “It’s covered in blood as well.”

  Kendra bit her lip. “Maybe we ought to wait for Colin.”

  “Don’t be a goose.” Jason kicked at the door with one booted foot, and it gave, swinging open with a prolonged creak.

  They traversed the short corridor, following meandering bloody footprints. “I don’t like this,” Kendra muttered, gingerly picking her way past the dark red marks.

  They paused at the entrance to the kitchen. “Benchley?” Ford ran a shaky hand through his wavy brown hair. “Benchley, are you here, man?”

  “It appears not,” Jason said unnecessarily.

  Kendra pointed to one of the two sunken wells. “Oh, my heavens.”

  Ford glared at her. “What now?”

  “Do you not hear the dripping?”

  “Dripping?” Jason started toward the well, then suddenly flung out an arm. “Stay back!”

  “What?” Kendra breathed. “What is it?”

  “This is no joke. Ford, fetch Colin now!”

  Despite Jason’s warning, Kendra rushed forward, then let out an earsplitting scream before whirling to muffle her face against his chest.

  “He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead,” she panted. “Benchley’s dead. Oh, my heavens, Benchley’s dead!”

  Instead of fetching Colin, a whimpering Ford flung his arms around them both. “I can’t look! Oh, please, let’s get out of here!”

  Squished between her brothers, Kendra turned her head and cracked an eye open, just to make sure. Bent at the waist over the crossbar that spanned the well, Colin’s manservant dangled, his clothes streaked with red. More blood dripped from the sopping mass of his prematurely gray hair, echoing as it plopped into the water far below.

  She moaned and promptly reburied her face.

  Until, with an unnerving suddenness, mad laughter burst out behind them.

  FIVE

  COLIN’S SIBLINGS stared, dumbstruck, as he strode in and leaned over the well.

  A plaintive voice resonated from the depths. “My back is killing me. Help me out of here, I beg you.”

  Kendra blinked. The color rushed back to her cheeks. “You lout! That was mean.”

  “But a good one,” Jason admitted with a sheepish chuckle. “You did yourself proud, Colin.”

  “A fiendish mess, but worth it,” Colin agreed cheerfully. He reached down to hoist Benchley up. “The looks on your faces…”

  “And the screams!” The manservant’s shirt was plastered to his short, wiry form. “Oh, get me out of here! Took everything I had not to laugh and give myself away.” Laughing now, he braced his hands on his hips and leaned back, stretching his spine. “Mind you, it’ll be hours of scrubbing to get up all that blood.”

  Colin waved that away. “I’ll help, of course.”

  “Well I won’t!” Ford muttered, his face distinctly red.

  “I’ll be going to clean off now,” Benchley announced, stepping gingerly over a puddle on his way out of the ki
tchen.

  “Hurry back!” Jason called. “We’re fair starving!”

  The siblings looked round at each other—and burst into peals of laughter. Even Ford joined in, after a moment.

  Jason leaned against the large, scrubbed wooden worktable, his long black hair falling forward to hide his face. “I cannot credit that I fell for it,” he mused. “I even said at first…” He lifted his head and gave Colin a rueful smile. “Your betrothed will be sorry she missed this one.”

  “Bosh!” Kendra rolled her eyes. “She would say it was a childish waste of time.”

  “It was a childish waste of time.” Colin grinned. “But what on earth is wrong with that?

  Ford sniffed at a covered platter. “Suckling pig,” he mumbled, looking pleased as he made his way over to one of the basins and reached for a bronze tap.

  Ignoring her twin, Kendra turned to Colin. “Speaking of Lady Priscilla Snobs, have you two set the date?”

  “Lady Priscilla Hobbs and I have yet to decide.” Colin scanned the shelves, looking for something he could use to clean up. “She won’t move to Greystone in its present condition.”

  “Gravity,” Ford declared, opening the tap, then shutting it again. With obvious glee, he repeated the motion. “Definitely gravity.”

  Kendra frowned. “She could live at Cainewood with us.”

  “Not likely. This family is a bit too, uh, high-spirited for Priscilla.” He dropped a wad of rags on the biggest puddle of pig blood, poking at it with one booted foot. “She’s an only child, you know—used to peace and quiet.”

  “She’s a snob, you mean. Otherwise—”

  “Kendra!” Jason’s leaf-green eyes glared into his sister’s lighter ones. “Lady Priscilla is a perfectly nice girl. More important to Colin, though, she’s pretty, titled, and the only heir to an enormous fortune. If it takes her a while to get used to us, we’ll just have to put up with it.” He turned to Colin. “How are the rest of the improvements coming along?”

  “Slowly.” Colin looked up from where he crouched on the floor, mopping the last of the bloody trail. “My study and one bedchamber are finished, enough for Benchley and me to stay here and work. But for Priscilla…”

  Raising a hand to his new, fashionable black mustache, Jason smoothed one side, then the other. “I imagine Lady Priscilla requires a small army of servants, as well as a proper suite and a couple of receiving rooms, at the very least.” He shot Kendra a warning glance. “On the other hand, she’s not going to wait for the entire castle to be fixed up, is she?”

  Colin shook his head vehemently. “Good heavens, no.” An incredible amount of work lay ahead; the castle had stood vacant nearly twenty-five years, ever since the Roundheads laid the great hall in ruins. “I’ll warrant we’ll see another quarter century before it’s fully restored.”

  “See this lead pipe?” Ford gestured at the stone wall. “I’d lay odds there’s a cistern on the roof. This second tap controls outflow—the River Caine lies downhill from here, yes?” He grinned, his deep blue eyes flashing with satisfaction. “Gravity.”

  “Fascinating,” Jason said dryly.

  Standing up slowly, Colin twisted the new gold ring on his finger, considering the magnitude of the task ahead of him. “Priscilla wishes to wed and start a family soon—as do I. Just a few more rooms…” He sighed. “Everything’s so deuced expensive, and I’m spending more on farm equipment and livestock than the castle. Until the estate is in shape, it cannot generate a decent income.”

  “Poor Colin.” Kendra walked around the kitchen, trailing a hand along the mantels of the three immense fireplaces. “I suppose I cannot fault you for wanting her and her enormous fortune,” she said, stepping in front of Colin, who was busy lighting candles to ward off the encroaching dark. “But don’t you mind waiting?”

  “It’s what she wants,” Colin said with a shrug.

  His attention finally diverted from the pipes, Ford moved to break off a piece of the fresh-baked manchet that Benchley had left on the table. “Why wouldn’t he wait?” He sank his teeth into the fine white bread, talking around a mouthful. “It’s the honorable thing to abide by a lady’s wishes, is it not?”

  When he reached for more bread, Kendra slapped his hand away. “You and your honor. If Priscilla Snobs had half the honor of any one of you, she’d swallow her pride, marry the man she supposedly loves, and help him rebuild his home. She can afford to live simply for a few months; it wouldn’t kill her. Or she could move in with us at Cainewood, or live at our town house in London.”

  Colin gave another shrug. “We’ve already discussed all the options.” One by one, he took four goblets off the shelves and set them on the table. “The town house always has people coming and going—it’s no place to actually live—”

  “I like living there.” Kendra reached for some napkins and began folding them into triangles. “London is exciting.”

  “Well, Priscilla feels differently. She’s a very calm person. I like that, you know. Having been dragged halfway around the world most of my life, I’m looking forward to staying in one quiet place, with my own quiet family.”

  She straightened the fourth triangle, then looked up. “You’ll be bored to tears in no time.”

  “Kendra’s right enough,” Ford put in around another mouthful of bread. “It sounds like Lady Priscilla’s main attraction, other than the aforementioned enormous fortune, is her talent for putting one to sleep—”

  “Enough!” The word burst out of Colin like thunder. His gaze flashed around the table, resting on each sibling in turn. “Perhaps I’ve yet to set a date, but I am marrying Priscilla, and I won’t have you discussing her this way any longer. I like her. I like her appearance, I like her demeanor, I like her background, and yes, I like her title and her fortune. She’s exactly what I’ve been looking for, and I’m not going to let any of you ruin it for me!”

  There was a rare silence among the Chase family. Colin considered his siblings might even have stopped breathing; the only motion seemed to be the candlelight that flickered against the whitewashed stone walls.

  “I’ll be right back,” he muttered after a minute, then stalked off down the corridor to the buttery.

  Though he took his time selecting a bottle of wine, the silence still reigned when he returned. Jason shifted uneasily on his feet, Ford traced aimless circles with his finger on the tabletop, and Kendra seemed to be studying her shoes.

  Colin almost felt sorry for them.

  “Colin?”

  “Yes, Kendra?”

  “Do you love her?”

  He sighed impatiently and set to uncorking the wine. “Our parents were in love, and what did it do for all of us? They were very loving people, weren’t they? They loved each other, the monarchy…we were born of their love, not because they wanted children.” He looked straight at Kendra, his eyes burning into hers. “No, Kendra, I don’t love Priscilla, but I do like her. And I think it’s better that way.”

  He filled the goblets, the sound of pouring wine unnaturally loud in the tense atmosphere.

  Jason took a careful sip, then set his goblet back on the table, his expression fretful. “You’ve thought about this a lot, have you?”

  Colin’s chin went up. “Yes, I have.”

  Jason shook his head, nearly imperceptibly. “It wasn’t really like that, you know. Our parents—all of us—were victims of the times. I felt very wanted as a small child. During the fighting, I missed them terribly, and I’m certain they missed us. A pox on Cromwell!” He slammed his fist on the table, making the empty bottle dance and the wine sway in their goblets.

  “I cannot miss them,” Kendra said quietly. “I never knew them.” She and Ford had been but one year old when their parents died. “But I’ve imagined them all of my life, and I always imagined them in love.”

  “Well,” Colin began—then broke off, interrupted by Benchley’s sudden return.

  The small man skidded into the kitchen, panting, his freshly
washed hair dripping.

  “My lord, you must come!” A lantern bobbed in Benchley’s trembling hand; Colin leapt to grab it before it might crash to the floor. “I went outside the walls to dump the water, and—lud, you must see it!”

  “See what?” Colin asked, but the words were directed to Benchley’s retreating back.

  They followed him at a run, through the darkened castle and outside the turreted walls. A hush seemed to fall over the countryside as the five of them gazed toward London. At the edge of the jet-black night sky, a dazzling red glow hovered at the horizon.

  Kendra’s whisper shattered the silence. “What is it?”

  “A fire,” Jason stated grimly. “And it looks big.”

  “London, on fire?” Kendra’s voice was tense with fear. “It looks closer.”

  Jason put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t trouble yourself, Kendra. It won’t reach us here. It’s just that the night is so dark, it seems to light the sky.”

  “But it looks enormous. Whitehall Palace could be burning, or St. Paul’s or—our town house! Oh my heavens, what if the town house is on fire?”

  By the dim light of the lantern, Jason’s gaze met Colin’s over their sister’s head.

  “We must go help,” Colin said for them both.

  Jason nodded. “Ford, you’ll come as well. Colin, you’ve extra horses? Carrington will fetch Kendra home in the carriage. Let’s move.”

  SIX

  COLIN PAUSED to lean and pat his skittish gelding’s black, lathered neck as Jason and Ford rode ahead. “It’s all right, lad,” he murmured, though he knew the words were likely swallowed by the sounds of chaos that engulfed them.

  “Colin!” Though they’d barely fought their way into London, Jason’s voice already sounded hoarse from smoke and overuse. “Come along! We’ll lose you, man!”

  Usually dark and deserted at night, London’s streets were alive with an appalling incandescence and a crush of displaced humanity. Colin’s skin prickled with heat as he picked his way around people, animals, and debris. Bits of ash drifted down, dotting his clothes and hair. Squinting into the haze, he searched the maelstrom for his brothers.