by Amy Atwell
“My middle name,” Derek muttered. His whole world tipped on its axis. Summer was winter and night was day. He wasn’t his mother’s son—he’d always been grateful he didn’t look like Alicia Vaughan, and now he understood why. He rubbed his cheek with one hand as he recalled his final interview with his father.
“I hope one day you’ll understand and be able to forgive me and your mother. I’d like to explain—”
“There’s no need, sir. The story is plain to see. You got caught up with a common trollop. She got what she deserved and you’ve been stuck with me.”
“You’ll show proper respect for your mother, around me, my boy. I loved her.”
“I called my mother a trollop, and Father struck me. He’d never hit me in his life, and I couldn’t understand why a man would attempt to defend the honor of a woman who clearly had none.”
Aunt Bess took hold of Minton’s hand. “Alicia’s story was tragic. She’d always been a flirt, was accustomed to men struck by her beauty and declaring their undying devotion to her. It galled her to discover the one man to whom she’d lost her heart didn’t return her love. She took her revenge with that string of torrid affairs that had everyone’s tongues wagging. Reggie didn’t care a fig about it, as long as she held to her bargain never to divulge your true parentage.” Derek recalled his childhood with parents who barely spoke. A mother who eyed him warily, a father who watched him with pride. Then another thought occurred to him. “If Alicia Vaughan wasn’t my mother, than we’re not truly related.”
Harry rose. “Derek, so help me, if you try to deny us as family now, I’ll personally mill you down. Hasn’t it occurred to you family has little to do with the blood that runs through your veins? Do you think Johnny loved Martha and Tom any less, or they her, because she was not their true child?”
Aunt Bess rose and came to take Derek’s hand. “Derek, I’ve known you since you were a baby, and Reggie believed the sun rose and set because of you. Brothers are often not as close as you and Harry are. You’ll always be a part of my family.”
Derek’s brow furrowed as he contemplated his mother. Deborah Preston had been so young when she died. If he died tomorrow, his one regret would be that he hadn’t told Johanna he loved her. A vision of her awaking and reading his note hit him. He’d not had the nerve to face her. He’d urged her to leave when he should have begged her stay.
Convinced he was the usurper at Ambersley, he’d been unworthy of her love. Once again, Rosalie had manipulated his emotions and done her best to destroy him. Derek closed his eyes, aware he may have destroyed Johanna’s love last night.
He looked to Harry. “I need to return to London.”
“Of course. I’ll go with you. We can leave first thing in the morning.”
“No, I must get back immediately.” Seeing their shock at his urgent tone, Derek tried to explain. “Aunt Bess, I sacrificed my relationship with my father because I wasn’t brave enough to stay and hear him out. I cannot risk the same thing happening with Johanna. She’s far too important. We fought last night about her…preoccupation with Worthing. This morning I left her the choice to follow her heart, but I denied her the one piece of information that might sway her decision in my favor—I didn’t tell her I love her. If there’s any chance she loves me—”
“I’m sure she does,” Aunt Bess replied with a nod.
“Harry, I’ll need fresh horses for my coach—”
“You cannot drive back to London tonight, Derek,” Minton interrupted. He turned to Harry. “My boy, saddle up your fastest mount. Derek will need to ride if he expects to reach London before midnight.”
Aunt Bess beamed at her husband-to-be.
~
For Johanna, the day had progressed with as many highs and lows as a hungry hawk over an open field. She’d felt awful when she awoke, then been elated by Derek’s note, only to be felled by discovering he’d left town. She tried to imagine Derek’s joy when he returned to find her waiting, and she could finally tell him she’d chosen her love. Then doubts assailed her—would he be joyful, or was he hoping she would leave him? But surely his selflessness in letting her leave him to find her happiness spoke of love. Didn’t it?
By mid-afternoon, she decided love was the most miserable emotion on earth.
In desperation, she sifted through their invitations to see if anything prompted her to go out for the evening. Finding a theater party invitation from Lord Worthing, she weighed the merits of speaking with him against the dangers. But Derek wasn’t due back for days, and she wasn’t making an assignation to see Worthing alone. Decided, she dashed off a quick note and had a footman carry it to Worthing’s townhouse with directions to await his reply. Within the hour, she had Worthing’s assurance that she’d be a welcome addition to his gathering.
Johanna waited as Nancy affixed the mother-of-pearl comb in her hair. When finished, she rose and allowed the girl to assist her into a dress of rich turquoise silk. A single glance at her reflection, and Johanna nearly surrendered the notion of going out. Aunt Bess had selected this fabric because it matched Johanna’s eyes, but since she’d slept so little the previous night, she felt it might not be best to call attention to her eyes. With a shrug, she decided to brave it. She couldn’t stay home all night and wait.
She sent word for Rory to bring the coach around in an hour and descended the stairs to face the lonely ordeal of supper. She was just finishing a veal cutlet under Mrs. Chalmer’s watchful eye, when Paget entered. “Mr. Barlow is downstairs inquiring whether you are at home, my lady.”
With a frown, Johanna dabbed her lips with a napkin. Whatever business could Reed Barlow have with her? Anything was a welcome diversion, she decided, and so asked Paget to send him up.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me at this hour, Lady Ambersley.” Mr. Barlow bowed formally over her hand. “Is the duke not at home?”
“He’s gone out of town for a few days. Is there some way I may help you?” Johanna motioned to a chair across from her, and he seated himself.
“If I could have some private conversation with you.” None too discreetly, he nodded his head at Mrs. Chalmers and Paget.
Mrs. Chalmers cleared Johanna’s plate and left, but Paget looked as if he were permanently molded to his spot by the door.
Mr. Barlow leaned forward and whispered, “It concerns Olivia. She sent me personally.”
Johanna nodded. “Paget, if you would excuse us for a few minutes.” It wasn’t a question, and for a moment, she feared the retainer would refuse to do her bidding. Although he visibly warred with himself, Paget stiffly withdrew and closed the doors behind him. She had no doubt he stood as close to the keyhole as he dared.
“Whatever is amiss?”
Mr. Barlow rose and began to pace the room, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Lady Ambersley, you’ve been in Olivia’s confidence. She told you she hoped to wed me, yes?” Gaining her nod, he continued. “We knew we would never be able to win her mother’s consent, and a few days ago, Olivia suggested we elope. I agreed I thought we could make it to the border and be wed, and so, today we made the attempt. Only, the coach broke down, and we knew we would be stranded overnight. Olivia started to cry and swore her mother would send her to a convent on the Continent, and, oh, Lady Ambersley, it was horrible.”
Johanna, who had experienced Olivia’s bouts of hysteria when things didn’t go her way, nodded. “Where is she now?”
“She’s at an inn outside the City. I’ve already heard Lady Vaughan and Curtis are scouring the town for her. She begged me to come here and find Lord Ambersley or you so she had an ally when they find her. I hate to ask it of you when your husband is away, but would you—”
“Of course I’ll come to her. Let us fetch Olivia and bring her here. I haven’t left the house, and the staff will readily agree she’s been with me all day.”
Mr. Barlow sighed as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you, Lady Ambersley. Olivia and I will
be so grateful if you can find a way to patch this up.”
“Does this mean you’ve given up the notion of eloping?” she asked hopefully.
“Absolutely,” he replied with conviction. Relief eased the worried lines in his brow.
With a nod, Johanna rose. “Then let’s set out. I was going to attend the theater tonight, and Rory is bringing my coach around—”
He interrupted her. “I have a hired coach parked out front. We can leave immediately.”
Johanna agreed. In the event she had trouble with Olivia, it might be better not to have her own staff offering unwanted assistance. In fact, it was best if they suspected none of this until she brought Olivia back. She called for Paget.
His quick entrance bespoke that he’d waited with his hand on the knob.
“Paget, there’s been a change of plan. Mr. Barlow is going to escort me to the theater tonight. We’ll be taking his coach, so thank Rory for me and tell him I apologize for troubling him needlessly.”
Paget emanated disapproval, but remained silent until he’d followed her down to the lower hall. “What shall I tell his lordship if he returns while you’re out, my lady?”
“I don’t think that’s likely, do you?” She looked him in the eye until he shook his head. She tugged on her gloves. “If he does return, tell him I’ve gone to the theater with Mr. Barlow, and I’ll be home when I get home.”
“Anything else?” Paget asked as he opened the door for her.
Exasperated by his over-protectiveness, Johanna called back, “Don’t wait up!”
Paget stood in the doorway, golden light spilling from behind him onto the flagstones until long after the jingle of harness and the clop of hooves had faded into the mist.
A heavy damp fog made for slow going as the coach picked its way through the London streets. As annoyed as she was with Olivia’s prank, Johanna couldn’t help but be grateful she had solid activity to occupy her time and thoughts. She would be able to resolve this, and with luck, no one in Derek’s family need know what poor judgment Olivia had shown. Johanna looked across at Reed Barlow. He was strikingly handsome, had exquisite manners and about as much sense as a sheep. Johanna couldn’t imagine what Olivia still saw in him.
The lights on the carriage helped not a whit with visibility, but bounced off the fog as if it were a solid wall. The moist cloud also deadened all sound, and with her preoccupied thoughts, it was a long time before Johanna realized they’d left the city streets of London and picked up speed to a brisk trot.
“How far out of the City was this inn?” she asked.
He ducked his head a bit in penitence. “It might take longer than you’d planned, Lady Ambersley. I’m afraid I’ve brought you here under false pretenses. I assure you, it’s the only way for me to marry Olivia."
~
Paget was grateful to hear an imperious rapping on the front door less than two hours later, and he responded with a smile that faded once he discovered it was Lord Curtis and Lady Olivia on the doorstep and not his mistress.
“Where’s Johanna? I need to see her at once,” Olivia demanded in her high-strung tone. Her eyes were bright and cheeks flushed.
Paget winced slightly, but saw no polite way to bar them entrance. “I’m afraid Lady Ambersley has gone to the theater this evening.”
Olivia gave a huffy sigh.
He recognized Lord Curtis had been saddled with his sister’s woes for hours and took pity when the young man asked if they could wait. Paget showed them to the front drawing room and took Olivia’s pelisse and Curtis’s hat.
“When will she be back?” Olivia asked.
“I couldn’t say, miss.”
Olivia gave a melodramatic throaty groan, an exact, if unfortunate, copy of Lady Vaughan. “I cannot understand why she would go out when she knew I would want to speak with her tonight. Honestly, she can be the most self-centered, thoughtless creature that—”
“Olivia!” Curtis sharply interrupted her tirade. “Paget, that will be all.”
Paget bowed and left the room with no expression on his face.
Curtis looked at his flushed sister. “Livvie, you cannot say things like that about Johanna in this house, especially before the staff. I suspect they repeat everything to her.”
“I’m sorry, Curtis. I shall be more careful. I just wish she were here to tell me whether she knew Reed would be leaving town.”
“I told you, he said he had to go to Dover to help a friend. I don’t think he’d planned his trip at all.”
Olivia looked out at the swirling fog. “I wish he hadn’t gone in such rotten weather. Do you suppose he’ll arrive safely? You don’t suppose he’ll get lost in this?”
Curtis gave a snide laugh. “Reed Barlow won’t even notice the fog. The question is whether he could find his way to Dover on a clear day in broad daylight.”
“Don’t say nasty things about him.” Olivia stamped her slippered foot. “I’m going to marry him.”
“Heaven preserve us,” swore Curtis.
~
Derek pushed his steed as much as he dared, but the journey from Bath to London ran close enough to the river that fog made for dangerous traveling. He didn’t dare lame the horse by galloping into mists with no visibility, and once or twice even feared he’d taken a wrong turn.
The ride gave him ample time to remember his childhood and his father. He replayed the events leading up to his departure from his father’s home and saw clearly how his stepmother had manipulated him. She had to know Derek had misconstrued the truth. Natural enough, when you grew up as the son of the most notoriously promiscuous lady in London. How was he to know Alicia Vaughan had been a devoted bride until she learned her husband loved another?
Derek drew rein to get his bearings when the road forked, and chose the high road through Richmond. His thoughts returned to Rosalie. She’d tried to rule Ambersley during his absence, clearly hoping he would never return from India. For years, she’d made him feel like a thief within his own house, allowing him to rebuild Ambersley while plotting to strip him of his title. Then there was her role in unmasking Johnny—she’d driven her own children to tell lies about the boy because she felt Johnny had usurped Curtis’s position as Derek’s younger brother. And she’d forced Johanna’s marriage to secure her fortune for the Vaughan family.
Clearly, he had to remove Rosalie, once and for all, from their lives.
He knew he would be successful in dealing with his stepmother. He prayed he would be as fortunate with his wife.
The clocks chimed eleven as Derek’s horse crab-stepped along the cobbled streets of St. James. Derek had never been so happy to see the house on Grosvenor Square, lit up and welcoming. He strode into the hall, unfastening his cloak.
Paget bustled in to relieve him of the damp fabric. “Your Grace, we’d not expected you back tonight.”
“Where’s Johanna?” He glanced up the stairs in hopes of catching a glimpse of her.
“She’s not here, my lord.” Paget cleared his throat. “She went to the theater with Mr. Barlow.”
Derek stilled, his anticipation dwindling to disappointment. “When do you expect her home?”
“She said she would be home when she came home,” the butler said quizzically.
He didn’t like the butler’s downcast eyes. “And—?”
“She said we shouldn’t wait up.”
Uneasiness hummed through Derek’s veins at those words. He’d seen Johanna dancing and laughing with Reed Barlow, but that was nothing but innocent flirtation. Surely she didn’t love the handsome dolt. A glance at the hall clock told him the theater would only just have ended. With the crush of carriages, it could be another hour or more before she returned. There was no need to fret. Yet his uneasiness remained.
“Very well, Paget.” Derek handed his gloves to the unhappy old hawk. “Anything else I should know?”
Paget cleared his throat. “Your brother and sister are awaiting Lady Ambersley in the drawing room.”
>
Derek frowned, but the butler offered no further information. Their eyes met and held for an instant before Derek nodded dismissal. He climbed the stairs to the drawing room slowly.
Curtis and Olivia pounced on him as soon as he opened the drawing room door.
“Derek!” Curtis exclaimed with relief.
“Where’s Johanna?” Olivia demanded.
Derek smiled ruefully at her unconscious selfishness and strode to the sideboard to pour a glass of brandy. The fog had left him chilled. “I’m told she went to the theater with Reed Barlow.”