Ambersley (Lords of London)

by Amy Atwell

  “She loved you, child. You know that, don’t you? She’d lost her only child when he was but a little boy. You were a gift to us, and you meant the world to Martha.”

  Johnny swallowed the lump in her throat. “She was my mother.” She looked at the relaxed planes of Martha’s face. She’d never seen the woman with no trace of worry. “I’ll fetch Mrs. North now,” she whispered and escaped the cottage while she could still see.

  She ran towards the Hall, until her aching lungs made her slow. The blood pumping through her injured arm made it throb viciously, but she saw it only as an inconvenience. Perhaps this was what the duke had meant when he’d told her that in the Army death made all pain seem minor in comparison. Silently, she gave thanks again that she’d been able to save him.

  After the fire, he’d gone to London to see Mr. Minton, and Lady Vaughan, Olivia and Curtis had accompanied him. While having Curtis gone made Johnny feel safer, she didn’t trust him with the duke. She’d been present when the barber had put three stitches in the duke’s scalp. Everyone believed he’d been injured by the fear-crazed stallion.

  Everyone but Cushing. “You did well to pull him out of there,” he’d said darkly.

  She’d been tempted to voice her suspicions, but as she had no proof, she remained silent. Instead, she watched as His Grace and Lord Curtis mounted a pair of hacks while Lady Vaughan and Lady Olivia rolled down the drive in the crest-emblazoned coach. The two men were laughing in perfect accord, but Johnny wouldn’t be content until Curtis returned to Oxford. She’d certainly be on her guard whenever he visited Ambersley.

  Whether or not he knew it, the duke needed her. Now, more than ever, she needed to hold fast to her secret.

  ~

  Derek returned from London alone. “Curtis was invited cubbing, and Mother thought she should keep her eye on him,” he told Paget, who reallocated the staff so some could help rebuild what was left of the stable.

  Once more Derek doffed his waistcoat to work with servants and tenants in clearing away debris and salvaging what he could of a building. At least this time he could pay for the repairs.

  “Curtis started teaching Olivia to ride this summer,” he said to Rory one day as they took a break. “Did she take to it?”

  Rory nodded. “Aye, we placed her on a gentle mare. She’ll need some guidance, but I’d say she’s got a sound seat.”

  “We’ll need to set someone to ride with her when she returns to Ambersley in the fall. Is there a lad we can entrust?”

  The groom bit back a laugh. “It would need to be someone immune to her fetching ways who could keep a tight rein on her. She’d give most lads the slip.” He considered the question for a few more moments. “What about Johnny?”

  “Johnny? Does he even know how to ride?” Derek’s mind flew back to the first day he’d arrived at Ambersley when the boy had been nearly trampled.

  “No, but he can learn. He’s always around the stables when his chores are done. He understands the horses. It wouldn’t take much to teach him to ride. I could do it.”

  “No, you’re too busy with things around here. He can ride with me in the mornings. We’ll start him off on Livvie’s mare.”

  When told she was being promoted from gardener’s apprentice to stable lad, Johnny trembled at the thought of taking responsibility for the headstrong Olivia. She could only hope the girl would take pity on her for all their years of friendship. In the meantime, the duke taught her how to brush down a horse, how to saddle it and feed the bit tenderly between its teeth.

  Once she mounted Olivia’s mare, he placed the reins in both her hands and positioned them low over the horse’s withers. As he ran his hands down her leg to set her heel low in the stirrup, she tried not to flinch at the warmth radiating from his touch.

  “You’ll want to keep your seat in the saddle. And you might find you need to readjust yourself a bit, for comfort and safety.” Derek patted the front of his own breeches and grinned.

  Heat raced up her neck and face. Once they set forth, she regained her composure as she concentrated on staying astride.

  As their rides progressed, Johnny lost her nervousness and treasured their time together. They discussed many topics until, one October morning, Johnny—aware Curtis’s imminent return for the Christmas holidays spelled possible danger—gathered her courage to ask of him a favor. “Could you teach me swordsmanship?”

  He shifted in his saddle to study her. “Why would you want to learn?”

  Johnny tried to sound unconcerned. “You never know when I might need to defend Lady Olivia.” She couldn’t very well suggest she wanted to be better prepared should Curtis set upon her. Besides, were the duke ever attacked, she might be able to help defend him.

  “Then, by all means, let us begin your training tomorrow. We certainly cannot leave my fair sister defenseless. Think of all the dangers lurking here at Ambersley.”

  He was laughing at her, she knew, but she chose to ignore it since he seemed willing to teach her. Instead, she changed the subject to one that had been troubling her unaccountably. “My lord, do you ever think about marrying?”

  The duke reined his horse into a crab stepping walk. “Why would you ask that?”

  In truth, she’d lain awake nights thinking of the duke and the confusing emotions he’d inspired. She’d always wanted to be his loyal servant, but now that she knew she was his equal in birth, she found herself wishing for a different sort of relationship. The problem, of course, was she couldn’t tell him of her birth without admitting that she’d lied to him for years.

  Johnny met his eyes with what candor she could spare. “You seem content to live alone, but since Martha’s death, Tom looks lost. I wonder if a man lives his whole life seeking his mate.”

  “Tom and Martha loved each other. Among the nobility, marriages are business arrangements made for power and prestige, money and land, or to beget an heir. Since I have all those things, I’ve no need to marry.”

  Johnny pondered this as their horses picked their way through the home wood. The marriage he outlined didn’t sound happy. “So you don’t ever plan to marry?”

  “I won’t say never. Perhaps if I find the right woman.”

  “What would she be like?” Johnny held her breath, awaiting his answer with anticipation.

  Absentmindedly, he scratched his horse’s shoulder. “She’d be beautiful but sensible, have good breeding, she’d understand that my word is law, and she’d be a good mother to our children.”

  Johnny exhaled a deflated sigh then took herself to task, for it mattered not what he sought in a wife. It wasn’t as if he were ever going to marry her. Still, he hadn’t mentioned any of the qualities she’d overheard him tell Mr. Harry all those years ago by the stream. Perhaps he’d changed his mind. “And you would love her for all that?”

  The duke snorted. “What does love have to do with this?”

  Warmth flooded her face, but she pushed on, above all wanting to understand his views. “But, if you have children together—” She stumbled, unable to finish the question.

  Derek drew rein again to study the boy shrewdly. “Johnny, have you ever been with a woman?” He could tell the boy understood him by the way his face glowed bright red above his collar. Even flushed, there was no mistaking the delicate bones of the face, the skinny body and the smooth facial skin. No, the maids at Ambersley weren’t fighting over the gardener’s son. The lad’s discomfiture finally drew a laugh from him.

  “Johnny, don’t be embarrassed. It’s perfectly natural. Let me give you some advice. For your first time, find a woman older and more experienced than yourself. She’ll be flattered, and she’ll give you guidance that will serve you well with your future partners. Second, don’t confuse love with lust. Women often do. Despite what the vicar will tell you, two people do not need to be married to bed together. You’re living proof of that.”

  If possible, the boy flushed deeper crimson.

  “Don’t be ashamed. Some people
risk everything to be together, they believe for love. But in my experience, love doesn’t last. Men and most women enjoy the physical act of bedding together, lovemaking some call it. But love is not necessary for two people to share and enjoy that act. In truth, some men find the need to bed a woman so strong, they hire a woman to suit their purpose. They’re called strumpets, and it’s quite a trade in London.”

  “Have you ever hired a strumpet?” Johnny asked.

  Derek’s face warmed under the boy’s intent gaze. “No, I have never hired a strumpet. But I do keep a mistress in London.” To Johnny’s knitted brows, he explained. “A mistress is a tasteful woman who commits to a man to be available for bedding at his leisure for so long as he pays her keep.”

  Johnny tried to assimilate this information. “What is your mistress like?”

  “A gentleman never discusses his amores. I will say that she is beautiful and sensible, and she suits me quite well.”

  “If she suits you so well, why not marry her?”

  “Marriage again.” Derek shook his head at the boy’s obstinacy. “Johnny, no man loves his wife half so well as he loves his mistress. And much of that is because his mistress never swears she loves him, but his wife swears it constantly. A woman is never as attractive after she tells a man she loves him. That’s because you can never trust a woman to mean it.”

  This left the boy mulling in silence.

  Fearing he’d become too didactic, Derek added more lightly, “Besides, a man’s mistress is not of the same breeding he would choose for a wife. I cannot take my mistress out into polite society.”

  “If you cannot go out anywhere, what do you—Ohhh!” Johnny blushed again at the Duke’s wolfish grin.

  “Perhaps we should continue this conversation after you have acquired more experience with women.”

  She fervently hoped they would never touch upon the subject again.

  ~

  November arrived in a symphony of color. Johnny spent her mornings riding with Lady Olivia and her afternoons learning the art of fencing from the duke. Their foils tipped, they would feint and lunge on the lawn by the stream. Johnny proved more apt at fencing than at riding, and the duke commended her progress.

  But before long, the duke left for Bath to join Harry and his mother for Christmas. With his departure, December’s cold weather descended in earnest, and Olivia discontinued her rides until spring. Johnny took this dismissal in stride and returned to the conservatory to tend the winter chores. There were dozens of things she could do around Ambersley to occupy herself. She need not sit idle and wish for the duke’s return.

  She worried for Tom who took heart in so little since Martha’s death. He seemed to wither overnight. His movements slowed, his attention failed. The grizzled fur around his ears was all white now. By March, he developed a hacking cough and had to sleep with pillows propping his head. Johnny abandoned all her gardening tasks to care for him. At first he argued with her, determined this was nothing. When he no longer had the strength to leave his bed, Johnny asked Cushing to fetch the barber.

  Burning with fever, Tom mumbled to his wife in a delirium while Johnny fought desperately to hold onto him. She tried every remedy Martha had ever taught her. Mostly she was there at Tom’s side, willing him to live.

  Cushing shook his head over the boy. “Tom’s lived a full life. Let him go now. ’Tis time.” The giant perched on the chair at Tom’s bedside. “I’ll keep watch a bit. Go get some air.”

  Johnny drew water from the well, impervious to the chilly fog settling with dusk. The scent of freshly turned earth reminded her that spring was a time of renewal, yet she knew it wouldn’t be so for Tom. She needed to ease his final hours.

  Returning inside, she found Cushing bent over the bed while Tom’s voice rasped in the quiet cottage. She hurried to the bedside to find his sunken eyes were a trifle glazed but lucid.

  “I hate to leave you, child.” Tom’s whisper rattled.

  Tears blurred her vision, but she was determined to give comfort. “I’ll get by, Tom. I wasn’t ready before, but I am now.”

  Tom’s hand moved on the quilt, and Johnny grasped the dry frail fingers. “I’ve told Cushing about your family.”

  Fear gripped Johnny as she noted that Cushing’s normally ruddy face had drained most of its color. Clearly, Tom had revealed everything.

  “It’s time for you to know the truth—” Another cough racked Tom.

  “I know. Tom, I know I’m Amber Vaughan.” She smiled through her tears to see a sharp gleam reappear in his eye. “I’ve known since the stable fire.”

  Fidgeting, Tom started to speak, but she silenced him with two fingers on his parched lips.

  “You’ll ask why I said naught. What was there to say? You rescued me and raised me. You and Martha fed me, clothed me, taught me and loved me. You gave me everything I could have gotten from my real parents. You’re my family—I didn’t want to leave.”

  Tom turned to Cushing. “Look after her,” he whispered.

  “Aye, Tom.”

  Shifting on the pillow, Tom pierced her with his feverish gaze. “You must tell the duke.”

  Johnny glanced sidelong at Cushing. “Someday,” she lied.

  Tom’s eyes closed, but his brow relaxed into smooth creases.

  She kissed his ashen cheek. “I love you both. Tell Martha that for me,” she whispered. Minutes later, she knew Tom had left her. She was on her own now, except...

  He’d spilled her secret to the duke’s faithful manservant. Even now, Cushing moved through the cottage as if to leave. When she turned to face him, he eyed her with caution.

  “’Tis a miracle I can hardly conceive, lad. Er, Johnny. The Master will be…surprised.”

  “You mustn’t tell the duke,” she said without preamble. Her thoughts raced as she sought to connect them in a convincing argument.

  “What’s this? You cannot think to continue this way.”

  She went to him. She would have gone on bended knee if she thought it would help her cause. “It’s the only life I know, Cushing. I’ve lost Tom and Martha. Do not take this from me, too.”

  “But you’re an heiress—”

  “What do I care for money? My world is here at Ambersley.”

  Cushing folded his arms, his lips hardening in a bullish line. “I promised Tom I’d tell the duke.”

  “No, you promised to look after me. How will you do that after you put me in Lady Vaughan’s hands? For if you reveal me, that will be my lot.”

  This made the giant scratch his temple. “Nay. I’ve always served the Master’s interests. I cannot lie to him.”

  Quickly, Johnny argued further. “During the stable fire, someone locked me in the harness room. Do you think that and the duke’s injury were a coincidence? If someone meant him harm, Miss Amber could be in equal danger. Under Lady Vaughan’s thumb I can do nothing to help the duke, but as Johnny, I can continue to help watch out for him. You know it’s true.”

  Her gaze held his. Sensing his hesitation, she pressed her point home. “Truly, have you never worried that his own family might be a danger to him?”

  Finally, Cushing released a long sigh. “How long do you think you can go on like this?”

  “As long as I need.”

  “But you’ll tell the Master one day?”

  “I promise,” she said. “Now, you must promise to tell no one. Let me do it in my own good time.”

  “I don’t like it,” he said, heavily. “Aye, lad, but only because there’s trouble afoot."

  ~

  When Derek returned from his extended trip in early April, Cushing told him Tom Bendicks had died and that Johnny now lived alone in the gardener’s cottage. Based on his valet’s obvious concern, Derek expected to find a scared child. Instead, Johnny was unusually reserved.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Johnny. Tom was a good man.” Confused by the lad’s silence, Derek stepped into the cottage. “If there’s anything I can do…”

&nb
sp; The boy’s face appeared leaner, his expression more guarded, as his gaze traveled past Derek to the valet. “If I take on all the gardening duties, will you pay me Tom’s wages?”

  The question stung. Derek had thought he was more than an employer to the lad after all these years. “Don’t worry about that now, Johnny. I’ll take care of you.”

  The boy shook his head emphatically. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I want to earn my keep.”

  He smiled with understanding. “It’s a painful lesson, but you’re becoming a man.”

  “I wish I thought that were possible,” the lad replied with feeling.

  From the doorway, Cushing coughed.

  “It will come in time,” Derek said. “I’ll ask Broadmoor to transfer Tom’s wages to you. Let me know what assistance you need in the gardens, for Olivia’s rides must not be neglected and there’s no other lad I trust with her. Have you been practicing your fencing?”