Beauty and the Earl

by Patricia Grasso

  “What if she doesn’t?”

  “How could she not forgive you, my lord? You are so damn lovable.”

  In spite of his misery, Miles smiled at the older man. He climbed the stairs to the third floor and tapped lightly on her bedchamber door. No answer. He tried the doorknob. Locked. He walked into his own bedchamber and, instead of entering his wife’s chamber without permission, knocked on the connecting door.

  “Amber? I want to speak with you.”

  “Speak.”

  “I want to look at you while I speak,” Miles said. “May I come inside?”

  “You own this house, my lord.”

  Miles winced at her answer. “I will not force my presence on you.”

  Silence.

  Amber opened the door. “You may come inside.”

  With the offending legal documents in hand, Miles walked into her bedchamber and saw her gaze drop to the papers. He tossed them into the hearthfire and watched them burn.

  He turned around. She was watching him.

  “I do not want a divorce, nor do I want to take our baby from you,” Miles said. “I regret betraying your trust and hope you can forgive me.”

  Amber squared her shoulders but refused to meet his gaze. “You have done nothing that requires my forgiveness,” she said, her tone coolly polite. “We made a bargain. You would give me your name, and I would give you an heir. What you do with your heart is no concern of mine.”

  “You don’t love me anymore?”

  “Those who seek love do so at their own peril,” Amber said, her smile bitter. “I will not allow love to destroy me as it did my mother.”

  Miles said nothing. If he professed his love, she would believe he was lying.

  “We will go home to Stratford in the morning.” Miles paused, hoping she would say something.

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Will you dine with me?”

  “I think not tonight.”

  “Good night, Princess.”

  * * *

  Silence is golden, but decidedly uncomfortable when trapped in a coach.

  The journey to Stratford was the most silent, tense ride Amber had ever taken in the company of others. If her stepdaughter had not been present, no words would have been spoken.

  Amber could not force herself to converse as if nothing had happened between them. She knew her husband felt guilty, but his remorse could not change their circumstances. Once done, some things could not be undone.

  A loveless marriage was better than what Gromeko had planned for her. She intended to be a dutiful wife, enjoying her husband’s protection, his home, and love his children. She would have everything she ever wanted. Except his love.

  Oppressive silence echoed in the dining room at Arden Hall that evening. A fog of tension, emanating from the lord and his lady, swirled around everyone.

  Miles and Amber ate in silence. The footmen tiptoed around the room. Even Caroline was unusually subdued.

  Amber focused on her husband’s hand when he lifted the wineglass to his lips. He wore the czar’s ring again.

  Miles noted where her gaze had fixed. “I am wearing your father’s ring.”

  Anger shot through her. Did he actually believe wearing a ring held any significance now?

  “I wear no rings.” Amber held her hands out for him to see. She caught his gaze on the third finger of her left hand. He did not need to know she had removed her wedding band that morning because pregnancy had swollen her fingers.

  “You will want to start decorating a nursery,” Miles said, refusing to comment on her lack of a wedding band. “Stratford has many fine shops. Spend whatever you want.”

  “I will not venture into Stratford any time soon.”

  “If you aren’t well enough to shop, give Pebbles a list.”

  “My lord, please use the man’s correct name. Doing otherwise is rude and may cause him to seek employment elsewhere.”

  Miles, the two footmen, and the majordomo smiled. Which confused her.

  Caroline yawned, drawing their attention.

  “Come, Caro,” Amber said, standing. “I will put you to bed.”

  “I’m not tired.”

  “You are yawning in your plate.”

  “No, Mummy, I was growling like a lion.”

  “I will tell you a story about a princess and a pea,” Amber coaxed her.

  That appealed to Caroline. She stood and kissed her father’s cheek. “Do you want to hear the story, Daddy?”

  “Mummy will tell me later.” Miles shifted his gaze to Amber. “Will I see you in the drawing room?’

  “I am sorry, but traveling has tired me.”

  After her stepdaughter slept, Amber went to her own bedchamber. She found her husband waiting there. “May I help you?”

  “I have come to help you,” he said. “If you turn around, I will unfasten your gown.”

  “I have undressed myself for many years and do not need your assistance.”

  Amber did not want him to touch her. The situation would have been different if her husband had searched for her. If he had not planned to divorce her and take her baby.

  “How long are you planning to punish me?”

  “I am not punishing you.” Amber looked him straight in the eye. “I need time to accept that the father of my baby had no faith in my word.”

  “Amber—”

  “Please, Miles. The babe tires me.”

  He inclined his head. “As you wish.”

  * * *

  The morning dawned gray and bleak. Which suited Amber’s mood. She decided she would be civil to her husband but distance herself from him emotionally. She would not give her love to a man who could not return it. Accordingly, she sent a maid to bring her a late breakfast in her chamber, avoiding her husband. And she ate enough to keep herself from being hungry at lunch.

  Unfortunately, Amber could find no good reason to miss dinner. She collected Caroline and walked downstairs to the dining room. Nothing personal would be said with the child present.

  Amber suppressed an urge to sit at the far end of the dining table—that would be childish. She and her step-daughter took their usual places.

  “How are my two favorite girls?” Miles asked, sitting at the head of the table.

  “Mummy told me a story about a princess and a pauper girl,” Caroline said. “The mean princess treated the pauper girl very badly. So the king made his daughter change gowns with the pauper girl. He wanted her to know that other people had feelings.”

  “Did the princess learn her lesson?”

  Caroline nodded. “The princess felt sorry and shared all of her gowns with the pauper girl. Everyone lived happily ever after.”

  “I am glad that someone lives happily ever after.” Miles glanced at his wife. “Come spring, I plan to renovate the east wing and hope you will decorate it.”

  Amber looked up from her plate. “I have no interest in decorating the east wing.”

  Miles knew he deserved whatever punishment she gave him. He had nearly lost her, inadvertently almost cast her into slavery. “I understand.”

  “You understand nothing.” Setting her napkin on the table, Amber rose from her chair and walked toward the door.

  Miles knew he couldn’t let this continue but did not know what to do. Had he lost her love forever?

  “Mummy, where are you going?” Caroline called.

  Amber paused. “I need to use the water closet.”

  “Don’t forget to wash your hands.”

  Amber walked back to the table. She put her arm around the little girl and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I love you, Caroline, and I promise to wash my hands.”

  Caroline smiled. “I love you, too, Mummy.”

  Miles watched this byplay between his two ladies. He should feel grateful that the princess loved his daughter, but he needed her love, too.

  * * *

  Amber managed to avoid her husband again at breakfast and lunch the next day but knew
she needed to appear for dinner. She inspected her appearance in the cheval mirror and wondered why she bothered. Why should she care about her appearance when she was dining with a man who had no feelings for her?

  She loved her husband too much to live with him like this, but she had no place to go. She had trapped herself in a loveless marriage.

  When she walked into the dining room, her husband seated her at the table as if all was normal between them. The majordomo and the footmen served dinner as if all was well with the world.

  Amber knew better, though. Her world had fallen apart because of her husband’s lack of trust in her. “Where is Caroline?”

  “She ate earlier,” Miles answered. “I wanted to dine alone with my wife.”

  “Caroline is your daughter and should share meals with you.”

  Miles changed the subject. “When are you planning to invite the Squelch sisters to tea?”

  “I changed my mind about that,” Amber answered, giving him a sidelong glance. “I am not interested in Stratford society.”

  “You have no interest in decorating a nursery, renovating the east wing, or inviting my villagers to tea,” Miles said. “What does interest you, my love?”

  Love? That one word—so carelessly spoken—exploded within her, unmasking a lifetime of bitter rejection.

  “Do not use that word,” Amber cried, bolting out of her chair. “You do not love me. You never wanted me here. You tried to get rid of me.” She pointed at the portrait of Brenna Montgomery. “You love her!”

  Amber whirled away, intending to flee the dining room. The majordomo stood there, inadvertently blocking her escape. “Get out of my way,” she shouted and, when he moved, ran from the room.

  Surprised by her outburst, Miles stared after her. He stood, his first instinct to go after her. Then he realized that would probably make matters worse.

  Pebbles dismissed the two footmen with a nod of his head. Then he said, “You are not making any progress with her.”

  “Go away,” Miles said, “or I’ll terminate you.”

  Pebbles sat at the table and drank the princess’s wine. “I have known you since the day you were born,” the majordomo said. “The fire destroyed your first marriage, but you are destroying this marriage.”

  Miles looked at him but said nothing. His attentive silence gave the majordomo permission to continue.

  “Lady Brenna’s portrait hangs in every chamber,” Pebbles said, gesturing to the mantel. “Everywhere she looks, Her Highness sees Lady Brenna. She cannot even eat without seeing the late countess, whom you were still mourning after four years.”

  Miles poured his majordomo another glass of wine. “I think I have lost her love.”

  Pebbles drained this second glass of wine and gestured for another. “For a smart man, you are a blockhead. If she didn’t love you, Her Highness would not be so hurt by your failure to trust her, which incited you to plan a divorce and keep her baby.”

  “How do you know that is the issue?”

  Pebbles rolled his eyes. “Servants listen, my lord, and servants talk.”

  “How do you suggest I solve this problem?”

  “You need to make the princess feel loved and cherished.”

  Miles nodded. “How do you propose I do that?”

  Pebbles shrugged. “You are the earl, my lord, not I.”

  An hour later, Miles climbed the stairs to his wife’s bedchamber. He did not know what to do to make her feel loved and cherished. He only had three words at his disposal. I love you. Whether she believed him or not was another matter. If he said those three words to her enough times, perhaps she would believe him. Sooner or later.

  Miles tapped on the door.

  No answer.

  Entering her chamber without permission, Miles crossed the room to the bed where she slept. He pulled the coverlet up to keep her from catching a chill.

  He loved her.

  These damn, cursed scars. The scars had ruled his whole life for more than four years. He believed she had chosen Sergei because the Russian had no scars. What a fool he had been.

  Miles left the bedchamber and walked downstairs to the kitchen, surprising his staff. “Pebbles, I would speak with you.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The majordomo followed him into the corridor outside the kitchen.

  “Remove Lady Brenna’s portrait from the dining room and the library,” Miles instructed him.

  “What shall I put there?”

  Miles shook his head. “Nothing. I plan to commission an artist to paint Amber and Caroline.”

  “I will take care of it immediately.”

  “Thank you.” Miles touched the older man’s shoulder. “And thank you for the advice.”

  Pebbles cocked a brow at him. “Does this mean I am no longer in danger of termination?”

  * * *

  Amber ate a late breakfast in her chamber and then skipped lunch as she had done the previous two days. Her outburst embarrassed her. She didn’t want to see her husband or the servants who had witnessed her loss of control.

  Sitting on the chaise in front of the hearth, she noticed the book she had left there. Studies in Aristocratic Finances in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. This was the book she had used as an excuse to see her husband when he was avoiding her. Now she was avoiding him.

  Checking the hour, Amber grabbed the book and headed for the door. She would return it while her husband ate lunch.

  Amber walked into the library and stopped short. The enormous chamber was as dark as it had been on the first day she had seen it. Someone had closed the window drapes. Only the fire in the hearth cast light into the center of the chamber.

  Setting the book down on a table, Amber walked to the hearth. Her gaze never left the empty space where Brenna Montgomery’s portrait should have been hanging.

  Amber stared at the barren wall. She could not imagine what had happened to the portrait.

  And then faint, muffled noises coming from her husband’s study penetrated her consciousness. On silent feet, she crossed the library but stopped before reaching his desk.

  Unaware of her presence, her husband sat facing the closed drapes. His head was bowed and his shoulders slumped.

  He was weeping. For her?

  Amber didn’t know what to do. She listened to his quiet sobs, each tear he shed melting the ice around her heart. Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

  “Miles? What is it?” Amber watched him sit up straight, his shoulders squared. After brushing the tears from his cheeks, her husband stood and faced her.

  “Why are you weeping?” he asked her.

  “I am weeping because you are weeping,” she answered him.

  Miles cleared his throat. “Men don’t weep.”

  “There is no shame in shedding tears,” Amber said. “I would never have married a heartless man unable to shed tears.”

  Both were silent for a long moment. Finally, Miles spoke, “We must speak about our marriage.”

  “Let us sit in the library.” Amber took his hand in hers, and they walked in silence into the library section of the great room. Together, they sat on the settee nearest the hearth.

  “Why did you marry me?” Miles asked, his eyes searching hers.

  “I came seeking the protection of your name,” Amber said, “but I married you because I love you.”

  “I caused the trouble between us and want to tell you what is in my heart.” Miles lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on it. “I was sitting in the dark and waiting for death when you walked into my life. I had never met anyone with so gentle a heart and tenacious a spirit.”

  A smiled touched her lips. “I think you are telling me how stubborn I am.”

  “I am glad for your stubbornness,” Miles said. “You yanked me back to the world of the living and refused to let me retreat. I resisted because I feared loving again and others’ reactions to my scars.”

  “Miles,” Amber started to interrupt him,
knowing what baring his soul was costing him emotionally. No man wanted to admit to being afraid. Then she realized their marriage could only mend if the poisonous doubts were gone. Her husband needed to tell her his thoughts and feelings.

  “Your love humbles me,” Miles said, dropping to his knees in front of her. “All the men in your life betrayed you. Even I, your own husband doubted you, though you had never given me a reason to doubt your word. The truth is . . . I doubted my own worth, not yours. I feared you could not love a scarred beast . . . Can you ever forgive me?”

  “I do forgive you.” Amber removed his mask and placed the palms of her hands on his cheeks. “I love all of you, even your scars. You will grow old, my love. Your vigor will fade, your skin will wrinkle, your teeth will fall out. And still I will love you.”

  “We will begin again, wiser for our woes.” Miles kissed her hand, sat beside her on the settee, and placed his arm around her shoulder. “I want to speak of Brenna.”

  “Where is Brenna’s portrait?” Amber asked, looking at the empty wall over the hearth.

  “I instructed Pebbles to remove it and plan to commission an artist to paint your and Caroline’s portraits.” Miles dropped a kiss on her temple. “Brenna and I were young and had never faced any problems. She was a good wife and will always hold a special place in my heart,” Miles gently turned her face to look at him, “but I will never love anyone the way I love you.”

  Amber kissed his scarred cheek. “Thank you, my savior and my love.”

  “I did not save you,” Miles said. “You saved me.”

  “We saved each other.”

  Their lips met in a kiss that lingered and melted into another. And then another.

  Epilogue

  Seven months later

  “I cannot believe how much he’s grown,” Miles said, studying his two-month old son cradled in his mother’s arms.

  “Alex is destined to be as big as his father,” Amber agreed.

  “He has a long road to travel before he grows into his name.”

  “Royalty always carries a long list of names.”

  Alexander Rudolf Miles William George Montgomery stepped onto the world’s stage on April twenty-third. Her husband’s birthday, Shakespeare’s birthday, Saint George’s Day.