The Earl's London Bride

by Lauren Royal

  He heard the water swishing behind the screen and imagined Amy washing away the blood, the dirt, and—he hoped—the memories. He knew her wounds were merely surface deep, nothing that wouldn’t heal in a few days at most. But he was furious nonetheless, feeling somehow responsible for her suffering, for the damage to her perfect young body.

  He should never have left her.

  He would never leave her again, he promised himself as she stepped from behind the screen. The nightgown was ruined and the blue dress ripped in the back, so she had wrapped herself securely in one of the inn’s large, luxurious towels. She was blushing furiously, one hand holding on to the towel for dear life, the other resting across her shoulder as if to cover its nakedness.

  “Look, Amy,” Meaning to distract her, he opened his surcoat to show her his cleaned wound—but that only made her blush even harder. “See the scrape? It’s nothing.”

  She stood still for a long moment, seeming to have some kind of struggle with herself. Finally she reached out tentative fingers, touching him lightly, and when he didn’t flinch, she nodded her satisfaction.

  He dragged the chair closer to the fire and drew her long hair out as she sat down, draping it over the seat back. Then he sat behind her to brush it dry. He had never brushed a girl’s hair before. It was oddly intimate. He hummed as he worked, a soft lullaby his mother used to sing to him, and watched the firelight play off the glistening mass of black silk.

  “It’s so beautiful…” Had he said that out loud? She froze as though she were surprised, and he would swear she even stopped breathing for a few seconds. But she didn’t say a word, and he went on with his task.

  When her hair was dry and gleaming, he rose and she came up with him. She turned to him with a shy smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I feel much better now.”

  “I’m glad.” She stood so close he could feel the heat from her body. He swallowed hard. “Can you face the bed now?”

  She nodded, her smile wobbly but determined. “It’s a different bed.”

  “Yes, it is.” He led her to it and lifted a corner of the covers; she slipped between the sheets.

  Her gaze followed him as he poured more water from the ewer to rinse the bloodstain from his shirt, then moved to the hearth to lay it out to dry. His insides warmed at her peaceful, sleepy expression. When his boots hit the floor with two dull thuds, she closed her eyes.

  “Will you sleep by me?” she whispered. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  It was that or the floor, so he nodded, even though she wasn’t watching him. He blew out the candles, then slid into bed beside her, leaving as much space as he could between them.

  “Amy?” he called softly through the dark.

  “Hmm?”

  He had to know. “Did he? …I mean…”

  She rolled to face him, opening her eyes to search his in the firelight. “No.” she whispered. “You arrived just in time. Like magic.”

  His body sagged into the bed with the release of tension he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

  Moving closer, she touched his face with feather-light fingertips. “I still cannot believe you’re here.” Her eyes turned luminous as her fingertips stroked his jaw. “It was dark in that corridor—so dark that once you battered down the door, I could see only your outline framed in the opening. But I knew it was you. I knew it, but I couldn’t believe it. I’d prayed my screaming would draw someone to help, but I never imagined the help would be you.” Her fingers stilled on his face. “Am I dreaming?”

  He brought his hand up and laced it together with hers. “No,” he managed to say. “You’re not dreaming.”

  “You were far away—at Greystone—then suddenly you were there. Exactly when I needed you. Just like during the fire.”

  The wonder in her voice, the total trust her words implied, made Colin’s heart skip a beat. If he hadn’t known it before, in that moment he knew for certain they were destined for each other. It seemed the harder he tried to ignore the truth, the more it persisted.

  He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I’ll always be here when you need me,” he said simply. “Always.”

  He squeezed her hand tight, then drew her closer and rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and settled her small, soft body against him. He felt her respiration slow into an even pattern, her body relax in the solace of long-denied sleep.

  The weight of her head on his shoulder, the warmth of her breath on his neck, the silky feel of her nestled against him—she was a dream.

  Yet he felt as though he were in a nightmare.

  Though he knew it deep in his bones, it seemed impossible to accept that the very essence of Amy—her inherent goodness, her intelligence, her resilience, her passion for life—more than compensated for her incompatible background. She would make a tremendous mother someday; her strength and compassion would create a haven of security no title could provide; he saw that now. The bond he felt between them—as though she existed for him alone—would extend to the children of their bodies as naturally as Amy’s affection had spread to his siblings.

  And yet, he remembered another strong bond: that of a little boy for his parents. And he remembered the soul-rending pain of abandonment. The pain he was determined never to face again.

  How had this happened to him? He’d been in control. He’d had a plan.

  He hadn’t wanted to love anyone.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  THERE WAS A King’s Arms not three blocks from the Chases’ town house. The few patrons still there had never heard of Robert Stanley, but the innkeeper directed Kendra and her brothers to another King’s Arms, which directed them to a third.

  The place was deserted, but a weary serving maid was still in the back, sweeping up, and she was able to confirm that they had indeed found Robert Stanley’s haunt. Perking up at the sound of his name, she informed them that rumor had it he’d taken off with his love, bound for either St. James or St. Trinity.

  “There would be no marriages on Sunday.” Kendra’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Perhaps we’re not too late. We’ll go and warn—”

  “Oh, no, we won’t,” Jason interrupted in a tense, clipped voice that forbade any argument. “There’s no sense in chasing out there tonight. The morning will do fine.”

  “But—”

  “Listen, Kendra,” he said more gently. “We’re as concerned about Amy as you are. But I know that neighborhood—it’s no place to visit late on a foggy night. The clergy will have been long since abed, anyway. We’ll go first thing in the morning.”

  Crestfallen, Kendra felt her enthusiasm evaporate. It had felt so good to be in active pursuit. Still, she knew there was nothing to discuss—Jason made perfect sense. “I want to get there early,” she proclaimed. “Before anyone can possibly be married.”

  “We will. We’ll be there when the sun rises.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  With a heavy sigh, Kendra resigned herself to a sleepless night of waiting.

  COLIN WAS awakened by a warm kiss brushed across his mouth. He opened his eyes lazily, gazing up through half-closed lids. In the hazy light of dawn, he saw Amy’s face just inches from his.

  “Colin, kiss me. Make me forget,” she whispered.

  He brushed the hair off her forehead. His eyes searched hers for confirmation, but what shone from their amethyst depths was such a deep, abiding love that he was momentarily taken aback. His breath caught in his chest, and he blinked, but when he opened his eyes the look was still there.

  Unconditional and unfaltering.

  His arms went around her, and she lowered herself, slowly but deliberately, until her lips touched his.

  He held back at first, mindful of her bruises both physical and emotional. But soon his prudence melted away, and he kissed her until both of them were breathless.

  When he broke away, he could feel her heart beating against his in the still room. In that moment, he knew with a
stunning clarity that they’d never be parted again. He would never give her up. He had tried to protect his heart—tried and failed. Now it was bursting with love, and he couldn’t deny it a moment longer.

  His lips drifted over her eyelids, her forehead, the smooth skin of her temple. In her ear he whispered, “I love you.”

  Amy drew away, still clutching the towel around herself like a shield. “Wh-what?”

  He kissed one downy cheek and the tip of her nose. “I love you,” he murmured, the words coming out husky and unsteady.

  “No! You cannot. We cannot.”

  His head snapped up. Did she not…? “But I saw it in your eyes. Just now. I thought—”

  “I love you, too,” she whispered fiercely, her arm snaking around him. “I do. It’s just—”

  “Hush.” Colin touched his fingers to her lips. They could work out the complications later. “I’ve never told a girl that, you know,” he admitted with rueful candor. “You’ve disrupted my entire life, Amethyst Goldsmith.”

  In contrast to his words, he felt immensely pleased with his new life. He kissed her with all the tenderness he felt in his heart, completely at peace for the first time in months.

  “Tell me again.” There was a smile in her voice.

  “I love you,” he said simply, and it was easier than he’d ever thought possible.

  FIFTY-NINE

  IT WAS STILL dark and foggy when Kendra and Ford left Jason and a footman at the deserted St. James. She was relieved to confirm they were not too late—at least not at this church.

  The bleary-eyed twins traveled on to St. Trinity and were elated to find it empty as well.

  They slipped into a back pew to wait, resting their exhausted bodies and chatting quietly. A couple arrived with two witnesses in tow, and then another couple, the woman visibly pregnant. The two groups stood in separate clusters in the back of the sanctuary, shifting nervously on their feet as they waited for their respective ceremonies to commence.

  The light grew steadily brighter, passing through the ancient leaded windows and projecting brilliant colored patches on the walls and floor of the church. At last, a door opened at the far end, and a plump curate entered. He bustled about, lighting a few tapers before turning to address the small crowd.

  A satisfied smile spread on his face as he viewed the assemblage. “Now, who was here first?”

  “We were, Father.” Kendra rose, tugging on Ford’s hand to pull him up after her and down the narrow aisle.

  “Where are your witnesses?” the curate asked as the twins came up before him.

  “But—” Ford sputtered, “but she’s my sister!”

  The man’s crooked teeth disappeared as his smile reversed to a stern frown. “Young man, I realize we’re known for being, ah, tolerant here at St. Trinity, but the church expressly forbids—”

  “Od’s fish!” Kendra’s laughter rang through the sanctuary. “We’re not here to be wed, Father—we’re here to find out if someone else was wed on Saturday. We hope to prevent the marriage if it hasn’t already taken place.”

  “Well, why didn’t you just say so?” the clergyman asked peevishly. “Whom are you inquiring about?”

  “Amy—Amethyst—Goldsmith and Robert Stanley.”

  The curate’s eyes opened wider. “I declare, I cannot recall the last time there was so much interest in one wedding. Why—”

  “Then they’re already married?” Kendra’s heart seemed to drop to her stomach.

  “No. Not to my knowledge.” When she sagged in relief, the clergyman smiled. “I believe they were here Saturday evening, however, and yesterday a tall gentleman with dark hair—”

  “Our brother,” the twins said in unison.

  The stout man looked them both over thoughtfully. “Yes, he could have been. In any case, the groom in question planned to return this morning, and your brother went off to search the inns on Fenchurch Street last night.”

  “Thank you so much.” Kendra handed the man a coin.

  Her wide smile must have been contagious, because the curate’s uneven teeth reappeared, although his gaze was already shifting to the other couples. “Now, who was next?”

  Kendra and Ford retreated to the front steps of the church, where they quickly decided Ford would wait inside in case Robert and Amy appeared, while Kendra took the carriage to fetch Jason.

  She arrived at St. James to find Jason pacing outside. He strode to the carriage. “What’s news?”

  “They’re not wed.” Kendra grinned. “But he plans to wed her today, at St. Trinity. Jason…”

  “What?” He climbed inside and pulled the door shut.

  “I’m hoping you won’t mind, but I asked Carrington to head for Fenchurch Street. The curate said Colin was searching the inns there last night. I’m thinking perhaps he grew tired and slept at one of them.” Jason began to protest, but Kendra held up a hand, rushing to finish. “Won’t you check a few of the inns, please? I cannot just sit and wait.”

  “But you said Robert and Amy are due back at the church.”

  “It’s still early. Besides, Ford will see to matters should they arrive.”

  “There’s no arguing with you once your mind is set, is there?” Jason muttered.

  For the next half hour, he obligingly walked along Fenchurch, checking a few likely places while the carriage followed at a crawl.

  Kendra regretted the detour almost immediately. Waiting in the carriage, she grew more and more impatient as she watched Jason go in and out. When the carriage lurched to a halt at the seventh inn, she noticed a sign in the window of Mr. Farr’s Tobacco Shop, proclaiming it had “The Best Tobacco by Farr.” A few shops down there was another sign, that of his rival, “Far Better Tobacco than the Best Tobacco by Farr.” She smiled, but mostly she was bored and restless, wondering what was happening back at the church.

  Coming out of the seventh inn, Jason stalked to the carriage, his face set in purposeful lines. The door was flung open just as he arrived.

  “Kendra, this is—”

  “—a waste of time. They may have turned up at St. Trinity by now. And much as I trust Ford to intervene, I’d hate to miss the resulting scene. It ought to be better than Shakespeare.”

  Worn out as he was, Jason couldn’t help but smile. “You’re something else, you know that?”

  “I’m your sister.” She punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Come along.”

  Before climbing inside, Jason instructed his coachman to turn around at Mark Lane and head back to St. Trinity. But they’d driven less than two minutes when Kendra began banging on the roof of the carriage. “Stop! Stop!”

  “What on earth—”

  “That’s Ebony! There, in that shed. Colin’s here!”

  She was down from the carriage before the wheels stopped turning. Jason groaned as he followed her out. “Now, Kendra, not every horse with a white star on his forehead is Ebony.”

  But it was. Whickering softly as they approached, Ebony bent his big head to search Jason’s pockets for a treat.

  “Colin must be in there.” Kendra indicated a dubious establishment called the Cat & Canary.

  “I think not.” Jason shook his head. “Colin wouldn’t stay in a place like that, no matter how tired he was.”

  “Then where?”

  He pointed to the back wall of the shed. “Behind there is Leadenhall Street. And a very nice inn, if I’m not mistaken.”

  SIXTY

  MINUTES LATER, Kendra and Jason were knocking on the door to Number Three at the Rose & Crown. A sleepy, barefoot Colin came to answer, no shirt beneath his rumpled surcoat, his hair in disarray, and a stupid, sunny smile plastered on his face.

  Needing no other evidence to conclude she’d find Amy in his bed, Kendra pushed past him. She wasn’t sure whether she was thrilled to see Amy sitting up against the pillows—alive and well—or horrified to see her wearing nothing but a large towel.

  “She’s in here, Jason,” Kendra shouted.

>   “Is she decent?” came his voice from the hall.

  “Enough,” she answered doubtfully.

  Amy pulled the quilt over her bare shoulders as Jason shoved Colin back and followed him into the room, shutting the door with a little more force than was necessary. “Now you’ve done it.”

  Colin’s smile was infectious. “I know. I found her. I can scarcely believe it myself.” Kendra averted her eyes as he peeled his surcoat off and grabbed his shirt from the hearth. “A fine bit of sleuthing, wasn’t it?” He dropped the shirt over his head. “Hey—how did you find us, anyway?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Jason growled. “Once again, you—”

  Shouldering Jason out of the way, Kendra took his place before her obstinate brother. “What he meant is, you’ll have to marry her now, you—“

  “I fully intend to,” Colin said as he tucked in the shirt.

  His words were quiet and matter-of-fact—so much so that Kendra failed to register them.

  But Amy did. She let out a small gasp of surprise. Marriage! Colin had said he loved her, but he hadn’t mentioned…

  No, it would never work. Her stomach felt leaden and her eyes grew misty, but the siblings were too busy with one another to notice.

  “Why are you grinning, you idiot?” Kendra railed. “You couldn’t just bring her to the town house, could you? Now we have proof you’ve ruined—”

  Jason shoved Kendra over with his hip and stood beside her, the two of them effectively making a solid wall that obscured Colin from Amy’s view. “You’ve really made a mess of things now, Colin.” Usually the calm one, Jason’s voice seethed with uncharacteristic rage. “You couldn’t leave well enough—”

  “Jason. Kendra. I said I’m going to marry her. Even though I have not ruined her.”

  Though Amy couldn’t see Colin, she could hear the smile in his voice. He was enjoying this little scene. And she hadn’t heard wrong the first time—he really did intend to make her his wife.