by Lauren Royal
Trailing behind her, he nearly dropped the tray. "How…"
Her musical laugh filled the air. "You'd be surprised what I know of you, my boy." Her lips twitched in amusement as she took the tray from him and set it on a table, waving him into a chair. "How did it go?"
"Not well, at first," he said carefully. How much could she know? "On the ride from Calais, my stagecoach was beset by highwaymen."
Gracefully seating herself, she raised a brow at him. "Not an auspicious start."
"To say the least." He hitched himself forward. "As I was carrying little cash, the damned felons took my ring—the ring Amy made for me." He rubbed the spot where it used to be, more angry every time he thought of it. "I would have run them through with my sword, but there were three of them, bearing pistols, and just one of me—"
"Amy would think you could handle them."
"She might at that." Her teasing expression coaxed a smile. "In any case, I know better, and none of the other victims seemed inclined to help."
An expectant silence filled the room. Elizabeth smoothed her skirts. "And Henrietta Maria? How did it go with her?"
Colin's jaw dropped open. "What has Amy written to you?"
"Not to worry." She waved a hand. "Only that you were visiting the king's mother on king's business. No details." Elizabeth cocked her head. "Does she know any?"
Colin nodded.
"Then she knows how to keep her mouth shut. As for writing of you…you know how it is when you're young and in love, and you look for excuses to say—or write—your loved one's name."
"I cannot say that I do," he said wryly. "I surmise I was never young and in love at the same time." He rose, pacing to the fireplace. "In any case, the Dowager Queen didn't see fit to be in residence. I cooled my heels for ten days, waiting for her return. After all that, I wouldn't have been surprised had she refused to act on her son's letter, but fortunately, that was the one thing that went right."
He toyed with a shepherdess figurine on the mantel, its frilly pink skirts reminding him of Henrietta Maria, who he trusted was on her way to Versailles to visit her nephew.
"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."
"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 & 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 damned 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 into this marriage—tricked her into saying yes because I couldn't stand to lose her." He took another gulp. "It was wrong. Terribly wrong. I knew all along a man in my position hasn't the luxury of wedding for love, but I lost my mind over your niece. Now everything's a bloody 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." His hands fisted under the table. "Bloody hell, I cannot pay it. I'll be forced to use Amy's inheritance to avoid losing Greystone." His breath came hard and fast. "By God, 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 woman 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 God'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 it feels like."
"From what I know of your story, 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. Hell, 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."
I think not, she mouthed, or maybe he just imagined it. But her features softened with a gentle smile, and she raised her goblet in a toast.
"Well, my boy, when do we leave for England?"
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
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. Sweet Mary, 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.
"God in heaven, 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. "By God, I missed you."
She pulled back, a radiant grin 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 the devil's going on here?" he finally asked, gesturing at the roof.
Her grin 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, love."
"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.
She 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 scooped her against him, holding her tight.
Holding himself up.
She was the pregnant one—he'd be damned if he was going to faint.
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."
"God in heaven," 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 God for small favors." When he came to kiss her on the forehead, she flashed him a mischievous smile. "I would have thrown you into the oubliette before I let you go this time. Six weeks you were gone…and we haven't even made love yet." She laughed at the hungry gleam in his eyes. "I don't remember going to bed."
"You fell asleep in the middle of a sentence last night. Been lying awake missing me all those weeks?"
When bent to kiss her again, his teeth nibbled at her bottom lip, sending her pulse racing. A soft moan escaped her throat.
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 struggled to sit up. "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 sat on the bed and 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.
"Tonight," he promised in a tight voice as he backed through the door, eyeing her belly with undisguised apprehension.
Smiling, she caressed the swell of their child. "Tonight."
One hand on the doorjamb, he paused. "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.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
"You should be resting, child." Elizabeth came in to 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 Elizabeth's gaze following her as she moved back and forth, filing the receipts.
"What's wrong, child?" 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 Elizabeth's lips. "But you haven't discussed this with him, have you?"
Amy shook her head.
"For God'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?" Elizabeth sounded incredulous.
"No, Papa said it."
"Oh, Lordamighty. 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 into Colin's chair. "Goldsmith & Sons was everything to Papa."