The Earl's London Bride

by Lauren Royal

Amy followed him down the twisting staircase, but when he headed toward the courtyard, she slowed on the ground floor. Despite everything, she didn’t quite feel ready to share him with his family.

  “What was this room for?”

  He hesitated before turning back. “This would have been the main living quarters for the lord and his family.” He was the tour guide again, his voice instructive, nothing more. “They would have eaten here, food brought to them by servants from the castle kitchens. The lord’s children would have had their lessons here, and the family would have played games and received visitors here. There would have been lots of food and supplies in the storeroom underneath, in case of a siege.”

  Amy ran her fingers down the ancient wall. “You’ve a lovely home, my lord.”

  He shrugged. “It’s Jason’s, really.”

  She walked around the circular chamber, trailing one hand along the rough stone. “I can picture your lord and his family living here. Were they happy, do you think?”

  “I imagine so.” Colin chuckled. “The Chases were always a boisterous lot, I’m told.”

  Amy halted, startled. But of course it had been his family living here these past four hundred years; it just hadn’t occurred to her before. They’d been peers for all that long. Just as her own family had been jewelers for an untold number of years. It was an intriguing thought, and a sad one, emphasizing the many reasons she and Colin could never be together.

  “They’re surely waiting for us by now,” he said, breaking her reverie. “Shall we?”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  WHEN COLIN and Amy reached the dining room, they found the family arranged the same way they’d been seated the night before he’d left, forcing the two of them to sit beside each other again.

  Colin wasn’t surprised.

  He took his seat, and supper was served. Conversation swirled as usual, but tonight he was the one not participating. He was so aware of Amy, he could swear he felt heat emanating from her. It had taken all his self-control not to kiss her in the keep.

  She seemed different tonight. She wore a different gown, a hunter green he remembered Kendra wearing at a house party last year. Her hair was in curls again…

  It was her eyes, he decided suddenly. The amethyst sparkle was back.

  No one would think of describing this self-assured girl as “a wreck” now. She laughed and joked with his sister and brothers, kept up with their repartee as though born to a large, noisy family.

  This large, noisy family, in fact.

  Colin was startled. Amy was everything his siblings had claimed: intelligent, talented, animated, witty…beautiful…and entirely too comfortable amongst the Chases.

  When she laughed again, his fists clenched under the table. He forced himself to look at his plate instead of her.

  He would deliver her to a ship bound for France—tomorrow. It was clear that Jason had no intention of doing so any time soon, and it must be done—the sooner, the better.

  “What do you think, Colin?” Amy asked, breaking into his thoughts.

  “Pardon me?” He hadn’t followed the conversation in the slightest.

  “Amy has challenged you to a game of piquet after supper,” said Ford.

  “I just taught her last month,” Kendra complained, “and already she puts me to shame.”

  “I’m weary tonight.” Colin had no desire to match wits at a card game, most especially not with Amy. Besides, he had his plan to carry out. “I was looking forward to relaxing and listening to you play the harpsichord, Kendra.”

  “I played last night.”

  “Not for me. Please?” He sighed theatrically. “I’ve been locked up in my isolated stronghold for weeks, with no civilized entertainment…”

  “Oh, very well. You don’t need to act so miserable.” Kendra sounded irritated, but her eyes danced. She dearly loved being appreciated.

  TWENTY-SIX

  THE FIRST wrong note slipped by practically unnoticed, what with everyone’s voices raised in rousing song and Kendra’s nimble fingers flying fast. But then she hit another sour note, and another…

  She paused momentarily, then resumed the tune.

  Kendra rarely made mistakes. She’d been an apt pupil, training for hours upon hours while in exile, an eager student for the bored ladies looking for ways to pass the time. Just as the men had taken Colin and his brothers under their wings, putting them through fencing maneuvers until they could parry and thrust to perfection, so had the ladies put Kendra through her paces. As a result, she was quite an accomplished musician, making this night’s trouble particularly frustrating.

  When three more notes proved off key in less than a minute, Kendra stopped abruptly and shook her head as though to clear it.

  “What’s wrong?” Ford teased. “Too much Rhenish tonight?”

  “I never drink too much, Ford, and you know it.”

  “Oh, yes, I forgot. That’s Amy’s problem. Half a glass and she’s on the floor.”

  Amy giggled.

  Colin looked at her sharply, then back to his younger brother. Criminy, his family knew more about her than he ever would have guessed. She’d really been worming her way in, the little minx.

  He hardened his resolve to remove her tomorrow, before she insinuated herself even deeper.

  “Are you tired, Kendra?” Jason inquired.

  “No, I’m not tired.” Kendra was clearly irritated. “I’ll just start over.”

  Start over she did, and proceeded to hit the same sour notes. She slammed her fists down on the keyboard, exasperated.

  “Are your eyes bothering you?” Amy asked.

  “No. And I could play this with my eyes closed, at any rate.”

  “Let’s just talk tonight,” Jason suggested. “We haven’t all been together in a long while.”

  Kendra heaved an impatient sigh. “No. I know I can play this—I’ve done it hundreds of times.”

  She attacked the keyboard with a new vigor and hit the same wrong notes again.

  The same wrong notes.

  She leapt off her bench seat and lifted the lid of the wooden instrument. Half a second later, she slammed it shut and whirled about, pointing an accusing finger at Colin.

  “You! You and your practical jokes. Have you any idea how long it will take me to retune this?”

  “However long it takes, you deserve it, little sister. ‘You should marry her,’ indeed!”

  “Marry who?” asked Amy.

  “Never mind.” Colin waved her off in what he hoped was a casual manner. He grinned at Kendra. “Got you good, didn’t I?”

  “I reckon you did,” she admitted with a wry smile.

  “What did he do?” Ford walked over to the harpsichord, lifted the lid and peered inside, then convulsed in mirth.

  “What?” Amy asked. “What is it?”

  “He—he—loosened the strings!” Ford managed to choke out between gales of laughter. “Well, some of them. Come look.”

  Amy joined them at the instrument. Though she knew nothing of music, it was obvious what Colin had done. A half-dozen random strings were sagging at the middle.

  “See?” Ford pressed a key causing a plectrum to pluck a taut string, followed by a key to a loose one. The resulting sound was so discordant that Amy burst into helpless giggles.

  They felt so good, those unconstrained giggles. She couldn’t help herself; the giggles led into peals of uncontrollable laughter.

  It proved infectious. Colin joined in, and Ford and Jason, and finally Kendra, until they were all laughing simply because everyone else was laughing. One by one they stopped, dwindling into occasional chuckles, all except Amy. She clutched the harpsichord to keep from doubling over as she laughed and laughed. She didn’t even know why, anymore.

  Her sides hurt, and tears ran down her face.

  Ford put a hand on her shoulder. “She thinks you’re funny, Colin.”

  Amy blushed, but Colin just smiled. “I appreciate a girl who appreciates my jokes.”
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  Amy’s face heated even more. “I’ll—I’ll be right back,” she hiccuped between bursts of giggles.

  She had to gain control of herself.

  Leaving the room, she wove her way through the corridor, laughing, and down the stairs, leaning against the wall at intervals. They must think I’m drunk, she thought—but she knew better. She was merely giddy from close proximity to Colin, intensified by a feeling of well-being, surrounded by laughing people who loved one another.

  Maybe her family hadn’t shouted, but they hadn’t laughed together much either.

  The laughter made her feel slightly sick, and she hugged her stomach and aching ribs. At the foot of the staircase, she gazed through tear-blurred eyes at the tall wooden front doors. The quadrangle beyond enticed her, the crisp night air exactly what she needed. She stumbled through the entrance hall and out the doors, laughing all the way, nearly tripped down the steps outside, and fell into a heap on the damp grass.

  As her giggles diminished, she took delicious breaths of cold air deep into her lungs. At last she sat up, wiping the tears from her cheeks between hiccups. Placing her hands behind her on the grass, she leaned back and gazed up at the sky, enjoying the feel of the frigid air on her hot face.

  Colin came into the quadrangle and crouched down beside her.

  “The family elected me to check on you,” he said wryly. “Better now?”

  “Uh-huh.” She watched a dark cloud creep slowly across the moon. “I’m sorry. I guess I made a fool of myself.” She hiccuped, more loudly than she would have liked. “Excuse me.”

  “No excuses necessary,” Colin declared chivalrously. “And you made no fool of yourself, either. To the contrary, we’re all pleased to see you’ve recovered your spirits.”

  Silent, Amy continued watching the clouds gather, dark shapes against the starlit sky. She hiccuped again.

  “I’ll take you to Dover tomorrow,” Colin said quietly beside her. “I’m sorry Jason hasn’t found the time to do it.”

  Suddenly, the air seemed cold instead of refreshing. She shivered and sat up straight, folding her legs beneath her. “It wasn’t a problem. I’ve been fine here.”

  His family’s faint laughter drifted through a window. She felt a stab of pain at the thought of leaving them all; she was even growing used to their inevitable arguments. But it was only by chance that she’d been afforded the luxury of being a part of them for a while, and her time was up.

  She shivered again.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “A little bit.”

  He moved closer and put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her against him. “You’ll catch your death out here. We should go back inside.”

  His heat seeped through the fabric of her dress, warming her all over. She wouldn’t have moved an inch for the world. “In a minute,” she stalled.

  He squeezed her shoulder. “How is your hand?”

  “Fine.” She spoke softly, fearing he might pull away. “It healed weeks ago.”

  Colin took her hand to examine it in the moonlight. “Mmm,” he murmured, running his warm palm over the back. “So it did.”

  More laughter sounded from above. Quite suddenly, his fingers came around and laced through hers, and then, to her complete surprise, he brought their joined hands to his lips and held them there.

  Amy bit her lip and closed her eyes. When she felt Colin move around to kneel in front of her, she opened them to find his only inches away.

  “How are you, Amy?” he asked in hushed tones, searching her face for the answer.

  “I’m better,” she whispered, overwhelmed by his intensity. “Much, much better.”

  “That’s good,” he replied, then swiftly, before either of them could think about it, he yanked her hard against him and brought his lips to hers.

  She was shocked, but her body seemed to know what to do. Her arms wound over his shoulders and around his neck, her fingers meshing themselves in his thick, silky hair. His mouth was soft and damp as the grass, but his hands felt strong and rough on her cheeks. She pulled him even closer, till they were pressed together from chest to knee, leaving no space for shyness or insecurity. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt surprised by her daring, but the feeling faded quickly, for she was too full of other feelings.

  But he must have been surprised, too, because all at once, he jerked away from her. Dizzy and thrown off balance, Amy nearly toppled over. It was lucky she was already so close to the ground. She caught herself on her hands in the wet grass, and all her newfound confidence vanished. Suddenly, she felt foolish and embarrassed.

  Colin sat back, muttering an oath. “I’m sorry,” he said with a sigh, running a hand raggedly through his hair.

  Of course he was sorry. He didn’t like her; he wanted to get rid of her. What she couldn’t understand was how he could kiss her like that, feeling as he did.

  She didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead, she sat down and put her head in her hands. But she didn’t cry. She felt too mixed up to cry.

  “I’m betrothed, you know,” he said suddenly.

  Amy looked up. She hadn’t known—nobody had mentioned it.

  “Her name is Priscilla Hobbs,” he continued. “Lady Priscilla Hobbs. Her father’s an earl—she’ll make a perfect mother for my children. Oh, and she’s very nice,” he added unconvincingly.

  “Why are you telling me all this?” she asked, more confused than ever.

  “I’m just trying to explain why I cannot…pay court to you.”

  Humiliated, she lashed out. “Pay court to me? Because of a little kiss? What an absurd notion!” Her voice rose an octave in her agitation. “I’d never expect you to marry me—you’ve tried to get rid of me at every turn.”

  “That’s not true,” he protested.

  “It is so true,” she contradicted, but the anger was seeping out of her already.

  Things were as they were.

  She wasn’t suited to him, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  “Amy,” he began, rising on his knees to face her.

  When she instinctively scooted backward, a flash of hurt crossed his face. She looked down, rubbing at a damp spot on her skirt.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally repeated.

  They were silent for a while. Then Amy forced herself to look up and locked her gaze on his.

  “When I’m with you,” she confessed softly, “I feel things I never thought to feel. I don’t know if you might feel them, too. What I do know is that it doesn’t matter. You belong here, with lords and ladies and the king, and I belong in France, working at a jeweler’s bench.”

  An inscrutable mask settled over Colin’s features. He hesitated, then stood and brushed the grass off his breeches.

  “We’d better get some sleep,” he said in a voice devoid of any emotion. “I mean to get an early start.”

  His long legs carried him up the steps and through the door without hesitation. Amy took a deep breath and raised herself up, hoping her own legs would carry her.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  COLIN CURSED fluently, aiming a boot at the side of the carriage for emphasis.

  “My lord, we’ll have to stop here,” Benchley concluded.

  “Oh, is that right?” Colin’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “I imagined we could drag along to Dover on three wheels.”

  Benchley usually stood as tall as possible to compensate for his deficient height, but now his shoulders hunched over and he positively drooped.

  “My apologies,” Colin hastened to say. Though he’d be hiring more servants in the near future—as soon as there was lodging available for them at Greystone—at this point Benchley was his valet, butler, coachman, cook, and serving-maid all rolled into one. He didn’t deserve Colin’s misplaced wrath. “Hang it, but I’m vexed, is all.”

  “I understand, my lord. I’ll just take one of the horses and return with a wheel and a wright to install it. You two sit tight and eat the dinner Lady Kendra
sent. I’ll be back in no time.”

  “I think not.” Colin gestured angrily at the sky. “This accursed storm is due to kick up any minute.”

  As though on cue, a few snowflakes drifted down from the clouds.

  Benchley brushed a flake off his beak of a nose. “I fear you’re right, my lord. I’m not certain I’ll be able to find a wheelwright willing to come out in this weather.”

  The clouds that had begun gathering last night looked unequivocally threatening now. The family had tried to talk Colin into postponing this journey, but he’d been adamant. He meant to deliver Amy to a France-bound ship, and he meant to do it today.

  Broken wheel or not.

  The thought of spending extra time with Amy, in a freezing carriage going nowhere, was daunting. The only thing colder than the weather was her demeanor. They’d spent the first short part of their journey in total silence, in diagonal corners on opposite seats, each with their nose buried in a book.

  Spending the afternoon cooped up with her here was unthinkable.

  “Pay the wheelwright whatever it takes.” He dug in his pouch and slapped some coins into Benchley’s hand. “The one saving grace is we happen to be close to Greystone. I’ll take Mrs. Goldsmith there on the other horse. When the wheel is fixed, ride on over and we’ll be on our way.”

  Colin helped Benchley unhitch one of the matched bays and sent him off with a smack on the horse’s rump. Then he climbed into the carriage and sat opposite Amy, shutting the door against the frigid air.

  Amy looked up from the book she’d been struggling to read in the failing light. “Yes?” she asked in a frosty tone.

  “The wheel is broken,” he began.

  “I surmised as much.” Amy shut her book. “I heard every word you uttered, foul and otherwise.”

  “Benchley has ridden off for help,” Colin explained anyway. “We’ll ride the other bay to Greystone and wait for him there.”

  “How far is Greystone?”

  “A mile and a half, or thereabouts.”

  “I’ll walk.”

  “No, you won’t,” Colin declared.