The Earl's London Bride

by Lauren Royal

  “And then?” Amy’s aunt fixed him with a penetrating look. “Come on, boy, spit it out. I’m sure you wouldn’t go out of your way to visit an old woman for the joy of it.”

  “Old woman, eh? Now you’re fishing for return compliments.” He laughed. “I can see right through you, Aunt Elizabeth.”

  “And I can see right through you. You’re concerned about something, and don’t try to tell me otherwise.”

  Uncomfortable under her knowing gaze, he walked to a window and swept aside the lace curtain. He gazed down at the bustling Parisian street. “Madame—Aunt Elizabeth—I came to ask a favor.”

  “Anything, my boy.”

  “If you could see your way clear to accompany me to Greystone for a visit, I’d be more than grateful.” His hand dropped, and the lace fell back to shroud the window. “As I’m sure you know, Amy is due to bear our first child soon, and your presence would make it much easier.”

  He turned toward her slowly, surprising himself with a sudden wish to confide in someone for the first time in his memory. But he couldn’t find the words to begin.

  Elizabeth rose and came near. Her jasmine scent reminded him of someone…

  His mother?

  She smiled. “I suspect you may need something stronger than tea for this discussion. May I prevail on you to squire me out for supper? With William away in Antwerp, I find myself weary of dining alone.” Her hand brushed his arm, and she raised a brow. “What say you to La Tour d’Argent?”

  “Restaurant La Tour d’Argent? With no notice? I hear tell duels are fought to obtain a table there.”

  “Not to worry, my boy, you won’t have to fence for your supper.” Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. “The owner’s wife has been coveting a bracelet in my window…I’m certain we can strike a bargain.”

  SEVENTY-SIX

  “ANGUILLE DES bois, madame.” With a flourish, the server set a pewter plate before Elizabeth. “Et pour vous, Lord Greystone”—Colin smiled at the hacked pronunciation of his name, but gave the man points for trying—“Poule d’Afrique.”

  The savory scent of the delicacy wafted to Colin’s nose, but it failed to entice him. He sighed as the server walked away. “As I was saying, Amy is unhappy. I’m sure of it, though she says otherwise. I fear it’s because she broke her vow to wed me, and—”

  “Her vow?” A frown appeared between Elizabeth’s blue eyes.

  “She promised her father—your late brother…”

  She nodded, indicating she wasn’t too fragile to discuss him.

  “She made him promises,” Colin explained. “To continue the traditions of Goldsmith and Sons. To save her inheritance for future generations. There’s more, and to hear her tell of it, these vows might as well have been signed in blood. She’s miserable, and there’s not a deuced thing I can do about it.”

  “Nothing?” Her bejeweled fingers toyed with her pewter goblet. “Nothing at all?”

  “Not without giving her up.” His voice caught, and he looked down to his plate, slowly cutting a bite of his hen. “She cannot run a shop and live with me at Greystone. And I cannot seem to make her happy there.” The delicious entree could have been boiled wood chips for all it appealed to Colin. He chewed and swallowed, then brought his gaze to Elizabeth’s. “I thought love would be enough, but it doesn’t seem to be. Not enough for her.”

  “Colin—”

  “It’s my fault, not hers,” he said through clenched teeth. A sip of his wine failed to compose him. “I manipulated her—tricked her into marrying me because I couldn’t stand to lose her.” He took another gulp. “It was wrong. Terribly wrong. I knew all along someone in my position hasn’t the luxury of wedding for love, but I lost my mind over your niece. Now everything’s a mess.”

  Elizabeth took a dainty bite of her eel, waiting.

  He gazed out the window by their table. The Seine glowed orange in the sunset. The last rays glinted off the spire of Nôtre-Dame, making his eyes water. “There’s more…”

  “Yes?” Her voice came quiet.

  “Did Amy mention I’d been betrothed to someone else?”

  “You’d be surprised—” Elizabeth started.

  “What you know of me,” Colin finished dryly, looking back to her. “Well, I’d wager you don’t know that I owe the lady’s father a fortune—even Amy doesn’t know that. Due at the end of the year.”

  Her delicate eyebrows rose. “And…”

  “I cannot pay it.” He shook his head, his hands fisting under the table. “I cannot pay it. I’ll be forced to use Amy’s inheritance to avoid losing Greystone.” His breath came hard and fast. “She’ll really hate me then.”

  “Will she?” Elizabeth murmured. He watched her graceful hands as she rearranged her cutlery. Jeweler’s hands, like Amy’s. “You’re asking Amy to give up everything that made her what she is—that made her the girl you love. Would you give up everything for her?”

  “Give up Greystone? If it were Greystone or Amy?” Had the pewter goblet been glass instead, it would have broken in his grip. He set it down, lest he spill on the snow-white cloth. “There are expectations in my world. For heaven’s sake, the king granted me this property, this title. How can I fail him? What could I offer my children? I grew up without a home. I know what that feels like.”

  “From what Amy has told me, you grew up without love as well…and which was the greater loss?”

  Below the window, a boat drifted lazily by. Its passengers’ lighthearted laughter swirled through the open shutters, melding with the conversational buzz that filled the elegant candlelit room.

  Had he ever been so carefree?

  If it were Greystone or Amy, which would he choose?

  His stomach clenched. It was Greystone or Amy.

  He had to choose.

  “I won’t take Amy’s gold,” he blurted, vaguely wondering if he looked more surprised than Elizabeth. He drew a deep breath. “If I do, I’ll lose her. Emotionally, even should she choose to stay. So I won’t take it. I just won’t.” With a motion that spoke of finality, he speared a bite of chicken and forked it into his mouth. “There.”

  Elizabeth’s response was quiet and thoughtful. “Do you reckon it must come to that?”

  “Yes. I gave her my word. I cannot betray her.” He shifted on his chair, meeting her gaze. “Yes.”

  She just looked at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then her features softened with a gentle smile, and she raised her goblet in a toast.

  “Well, my boy, when do we leave for England?”

  SEVENTY-SEVEN

  COLIN POKED his head out of the carriage, frowning at the unmistakable sounds of construction. His gaze followed the circular drive as he slowly stepped to the gravel.

  Atop the great hall, a new slate roof glistened in the sunshine.

  Suddenly weak in the knees, he leaned against the carriage. Criminy, if she’d spent his small savings on a new roof, thinking to surprise him…

  But no, it didn’t matter. Not now that he’d decided to forfeit Greystone, regardless.

  His attention was diverted as Amy slammed out the front door and bounded toward him, as fast as her swollen girth would allow.

  “Colin! I’m so glad you’re home!”

  She threw herself at him, the mound of her stomach bouncing off his solid form. With a shaky laugh, he reached to set her aright, then crushed her against himself, burying his nose in her rose-scented hair. “Heavens, I missed you.”

  She pulled back, a radiant smile on her face, then lunged at him again, as though to convince herself he was really there.

  He half-laughed, half-groaned, the gravel crunching beneath his feet as he shifted. “What is going on here?” he asked, gesturing at the roof.

  Her smiled widened, then she gasped when she looked past him. “Aunt Elizabeth?”

  As her aunt stepped down from the carriage, Colin ventured a small smile of his own. “It seems we both had surprises for each other.”

  �
�Oh, Colin! Aunt Elizabeth!” As she let out a cry of pleasure, enclosing her aunt in an enthusiastic embrace, Colin’s smile turned genuine.

  She was such a joy…how could he have ever considered betraying her, even for a moment? Any sacrifice was worth it, so long as he retained her trust. And her love.

  All at once, the old fear started melting away. Here with Amy again, it seemed marrying for love was the best thing he could have done for himself and his children, no matter the consequences.

  Wherever they ended up living, they’d be happy, because they’d be together.

  Amy tugged on his hand. “Wait till you see the inside! Did you notice the new windows as you drove up? The downstairs chambers are ready for furniture, and our suite upstairs is nearly—”

  She stopped when he didn’t budge.

  He couldn’t budge.

  He felt rooted to the ground. He didn’t want to see all the improvements, his home restored like he’d dreamed, only to hand it all over to Hobbs.

  The buzzard.

  He backed up and sat on the carriage step. “Amy, love…just give me a minute to get used to this.”

  “There’s more! I bought more sheep, and the thresher. And the mill is fixed.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Colin?” She jiggled his arm. “Colin, are you all right?” She gave a nervous giggle. “I’m the one who’s supposed to feel faint these days.”

  “I’m fine,” he whispered. “Did you spend it all?”

  “Spend it all?” Her laugh rang through the courtyard. “Have you any idea what those diamonds are worth? Or how much gold a trunk will hold?”

  His eyes flew open. “Diamonds? Gold?”

  Why did she always make him feel so dense?

  Her laughter tapered off into the heavy summer air. “Did you think I would spend Greystone’s accounts?” she asked slowly. “Without asking?”

  “I…” He rose, but his knees still felt weak. “Are you saying, then—”

  “I want you to have it, Colin. I want you to be happy.” Her hand moved to the bulge of their child. “The gold was meant as security for my son, was it not?” Her amethyst eyes glistened with tears as she gazed up at him. “What could be more secure than an earldom and acres of land? The fortune will be there, in the crops planted in the fertile soil, in the stone walls of the castle and the shingles on the great hall’s roof. I should have realized it months ago.” One tear escaped and traced a path down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry…?” His hand came up to wipe away that single tear, warm against the pad of his fingertip. A peculiar grayness crept to fog his vision. He gathered her against him, holding her tight.

  Holding himself up.

  She was the pregnant one—he was not going to faint.

  SEVENTY-EIGHT

  HIS EXPRESSION unreadable, Colin approached their bed the next morning and handed Amy a letter decorated with an all-too-familiar red seal. A pain clenched her middle as her eyes scanned down the page, past lines of neat, flourished script, the product of many years of tutoring, to the bottom, where it was signed, “Your very loving friend, Charles R.”

  “Dear heavens,” she groaned. The parchment rustled as she dropped it to the bed. “Not another summons, another favor.”

  Colin’s laugh boomed through the chamber. “Read it, lazybones.” He stalked to the window and pushed open the drapes. “It’s only a letter saying a treaty with the Dutch was signed three days ago at Breda, and thanking me for service performed on behalf of England.”

  She blinked against the sunshine flooding the chamber. “Thank heavens for small favors.” When he came to kiss her on the forehead, she flashed him a teasing smile. “I would have thrown you into the oubliette before I let you go this time. Six weeks you were gone!” She made a half-hearted attempt to sit up, then fell back against her pillows, defeated. She sighed. “I don’t remember going to bed last night.”

  “You fell asleep in the middle of a sentence. Been lying awake missing me all those weeks?”

  He sat on the bed and leaned to kiss her again, his teeth nibbling at her bottom lip, sending her pulse racing. He smiled against her mouth. “I never got the chance to thank you for sharing your inheritance—”

  “There’s no need—”

  “—and for saving Greystone.”

  “Saving Greystone?” She brushed her fingertips over his scratchy cheeks. “Perhaps I made things a bit easier for you, but Greystone would have done well in the long run, regardless. It’s a fine estate.”

  “A fine estate, yes.” He took her hands. “But it would have been Lord Hobbs’s fine estate.”

  “Lord Hobbs’s?”

  “I owe him money. From Priscilla’s dowry, due at the close of the year. It would have been Newgate Prison for me, or Greystone for him.” He gave a rueful laugh. “Coward that I am, I’m afraid he would have ended up with Greystone.”

  “But there was always the gold—”

  He quieted her with a kiss. “I promised you I’d never take it, love.”

  He’d been willing to give up everything for her.

  Sudden tears flooded her eyes. “A Chase promise is not given lightly,” she murmured, hearing Jason say so in her head. Back at Cainewood, nearly a year ago.

  It seemed like a lifetime had passed.

  “No, it’s never given lightly,” Colin agreed. “Most especially to those we love. Now, get some rest while I tour the estate.”

  One more kiss, his lips soft, lingering on hers.

  A hand on the doorjamb, he paused on his way out. “Are you happy?”

  “Happy?” she asked in a daze. “I’ve never been happier in my life.”

  At that moment, it was true. The smile transformed her face long after Colin’s footsteps had faded down the corridor.

  He loved her.

  SEVENTY-NINE

  “YOU SHOULD be resting, child.” Aunt Elizabeth entered the study and settled herself on the couch. “Your time is near.”

  “I felt a sudden urge to straighten this desk.” Amy sorted through the heap of yellowed receipts she’d found crammed in the bottom drawer, then held one up. “This is dated 1660, the year King Charles granted Greystone to Colin. My husband is a secret sluggard.” She grinned. “Besides, I’m not made for resting; you know that.”

  “Your Uncle William says the same thing about me. The Goldsmith curse, he calls it.”

  The paper fluttered to the desk. “The Goldsmith curse,” Amy repeated in a whisper, thinking not of the work ethic, but her cursed promise.

  The Goldsmith curse.

  “What did you say, dear?”

  “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  The room fell quiet except for the rustle of paper. Amy felt Aunt Elizabeth’s gaze following her as she moved back and forth, filing the receipts.

  “What’s wrong, child?” Aunt Elizabeth asked at last, her voice heavy with loving sympathy.

  Amy’s eyes filled with tears. Her emotions were so close to the surface these days; she was either violently happy or in the depths of despair; there seemed to be no middle ground.

  “I don’t know, Auntie.” She leaned both palms on the desk, staring down, studying the grain in the wood. “I was so happy this morning.”

  “This wouldn’t have something to do with a vow to your father, would it?”

  Amy watched a tear splash onto the scarred surface of Colin’s desk. “How did you know?”

  “Colin.” A long sigh escaped Aunt Elizabeth’s lips. “But you haven’t discussed this with him, have you?”

  Amy shook her head.

  “For heaven’s sake, child, how can you let a promise to a dead man stand in the way of your happiness?”

  “He told me I cannot have everything,” Amy said in a tiny voice.

  “Colin said that?” Aunt Elizabeth sounded incredulous.

  “No, Papa said it.”

  “Oh, balderdash. My brother was a lot of things, but open-minded wasn’t
one of them.”

  Amy flinched with a sudden cramp in her middle. “Yet it’s true, isn’t it?” she said when the pain eased. “I’m with Colin now, and I have so much. I must learn to live with the fact that I cannot have everything.”

  “Poppycock. Hugh couldn’t possibly have foreseen your future. He’s dead, Amy. The shop is gone.” Her voice gentled. “You’re a countess, child. Were your father here today, do you honestly think he’d withhold his blessing?”

  “I don’t know.” Amy dropped onto Colin’s chair. “Goldsmith and Sons was everything to Papa.”

  Sighing, Aunt Elizabeth stood up. “You can have everything, if you’ll but listen to your heart. You need only speak with Colin—”

  “About this? He’s already told me—”

  “He’s not your father. Talk to him. You can live up to your vow—perhaps not literally, but the spirit, child. You can live up to the spirit of your vow, if you’ll only approach your husband with open trust. He deserves that much, Amy.”

  She walked around the desk and leaned to kiss Amy on both cheeks. “Think about it. Now, I’m an old woman who has traveled many miles, and I think I need a nap.”

  Sniffling, Amy ventured a shaky smile. “Good heavens, Auntie. An old woman, indeed!”

  Another cramp shot through Amy, but that didn’t mean the baby was coming. He couldn’t be coming—Colin had left to spend the whole day inspecting the estate.

  Besides, she’d been having cramps for nearly eight weeks now, and they’d never meant anything before.

  GREYSTONE HUMMED with productivity. Colin rode toward the fields at the far end of the property, certain the sheep and crops would prove as well maintained as the lumber operation and quarry already had. Amy was a talented estate manager. Almost as talented as she’d been a jeweler.

  A jeweler…

  He looked down to his hands on Ebony’s reins, at the band of white skin that marked where his signet ring used to rest. After all these months, he felt almost naked without it. And Amy…