Ambersley (Lords of London) (29 page)

Nancy had already turned down the covers and lit the small lamp on the table. With a touch of envy, Johanna had granted the maid the next two days off to visit her family. She drew back the heavy drapes to watch snowflakes swirl in the darkness to the now-white ground. Johanna warmed the frosty window with her breath, and an idea formed while she traced designs with her fingertip. She wanted to see the staff, and there was no better time and place to find a group of them than in the kitchens after supper.

With care, she tiptoed down the back stair to the kitchens at the bottom of the house. As she drew closer, she heard Mrs. Chalmers’ familiar voice. “Tell me more, Cushing. Does she look just the same as Johnny?”

“
Aye, just the same, yet completely different. You’d recognize her with a flick of your eye, but she’s so cool and reserved. She’s a lady now.” Cushing drained his pint of ale.

Rory chimed in. “And it fair breaks your heart, knowing what an imp Johnny was, to meet the most delicate and proper Lady Johanna.” He stared into his tankard.

“
But I’m still me.” She stepped into the kitchen firelight.

Cushing turned around and nearly toppled his chair. “Lady Johanna!”

Rory scrambled to his feet while Mrs. Chalmers bobbed in a fair copy of a curtsey.

Johanna smiled warmly and came forward with outstretched hands. “No, friends, ignore the gowns. I’ll always be Johnny with you.”

Mrs. Chalmers dabbed at her eyes with her apron. “Bless you, child, for coming down here so I could see you meself. I worried so about you.”

Johanna drank in the kitchen’s aromas of gravy, yeast and herbs. Gleaming copper kettles she’d once polished hung above the long trestle table where Mrs. Chalmers carved the meat and rolled out the pastries. Mrs. Chalmers in her white smock, with her wrinkled sinewy hands and sagging bosom, remained just as Johanna remembered. She glanced at Cushing and Rory, but they stood transfixed as if she were the ghost Rory had always claimed he’d seen.

Her gown somehow managed to tangle up her tongue. Dressed as Lady Johanna, she couldn’t think of what to say to them.

Footsteps descended the stairs, and Johanna nervously stepped around the corner, afraid Derek would find her here.

Instead, she heard Paget talking to Mr. Pritchard and Mrs. North. “We shall need to take the best china, for there will never be enough at Grosvenor Square to accommodate so large a gathering.” Paget entered the kitchen, very much the general in command. He stopped to contemplate the others standing about like scarecrows in the field. “Is something amiss?”

“
Only me,” Johanna admitted meekly from her corner.

Paget stared hard at her for a moment, as if she couldn’t possibly be there. Mr. Pritchard and Mrs. North were likewise struck dumb.

Mrs. North found her voice. “Is there aught we can get for you, Lady Johanna?”

Johanna took an angry stride forward. “It’s
me
, Johnny. Don’t you recognize me?"
“Of course we recognize you.” Paget’s authoritative voice checked her temper at once. She looked to him with hope, but his face was, as always, stern. “But there is no more Johnny.”

“
You’re angry with me because I lied. I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anyone—” She broke off, afraid she’d never make them understand.

Rory shook his head. “Nay, Johnny. Cushing explained all that.”

“
Lady Johanna, may I speak my mind?” Paget commanded her attention.

“
Of course.”

“
What was that business in the dining room tonight?” He drew himself even taller, as if the topic were distasteful to him. “You behaved no better than a child still in the nursery. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”

“
I—I was just trying to get your attention.”

“
Don’t. I know my place in this house even if you do not. I am the butler, and the only courtesy I expect is for you
not
to call attention to my presence. If your mother were alive, I shudder to think what she would have said of your behavior.”

Johanna held her stance, her chin up despite the chill settling upon her shoulders. “Very well. If you’re determined not to acknowledge me.” She moved toward the stairs, but stopped to look at the sea of familiar faces. “You’re the only family I’ve ever known. I missed you. Is that so hard for you to understand?”

Mrs. Chalmers stepped forward to wrap the girl in a motherly embrace. It smelled of flour and meat drippings and heaven. Johanna thought her wonderful. “We missed you too, Johnny. Don’t ever doubt that, child.”

“
But you live in a different world now,” Mrs. North pointed out.

“
It’s only upstairs.”

“
It may as well be on another continent,” Cushing muttered.

Johanna tilted her head to look at him. What he said made sense. She had left this world—whether by choice or no—and had landed on a far distant shore. She stepped out of Mrs. Chalmers’ arms and gave the woman’s hands a squeeze before nodding to the other servants. “Then I have no choice but to move forward with my life.”

She turned to leave again, but stopped before the hawk-nosed butler. “Paget, one of the few things I’ve ever wanted was to win your approval.”

“
Johnny had my approval, for he knew his place and duty. Lady Johanna may earn it as easily.”

Johanna stared at him intently as she absorbed his advice. Without a word, she exited up the stairs.

In the kitchen, silence prevailed over the company. Rory retrieved his tankard, intent on fetching more ale. “That wasn’t very pleasant.”

“
It was, however, necessary,” Paget responded stiffly.

Cushing shook his head. “The Master had her pegged. He said she’d come looking for us. I didn’t believe she’d come this fast.”

“
Poor lamb.” Mrs. Chalmers chafed her empty arms. “She looked as if she had to face the world alone.”

“
She’s headed for London soon. ’Tis better she grow accustomed to that feeling now,” Mrs. North replied.

“
Ladies and gentlemen, may I remind you of our commission to the late duke and duchess—to raise their daughter as befits her station. Lady Johanna may still face hard lessons, but she’ll not embarrass herself—or this staff—in public.”

“
The duke will be happy to hear of tonight’s work,” Mr. Pritchard noted.

They regarded each other wordlessly. Each knew no one would speak of tonight’s encounter to His Grace.

~

Johanna acted the model of decorum during the next few weeks. Around the staff, she remained coolly reserved, ever polite but distant. She took her cue from Paget himself, whether or not the butler wished to know it.

With Derek she built the foundation for a new relationship. Though not as easy-natured as Harry, Derek was one of her oldest friends. Yet while she viewed Harry as her same friend, she couldn’t see Derek as anything but a man—a handsome man who scattered her pulse every time he looked her way. With effort, Johanna learned to treat him with the deference appropriate for a ward to her guardian. It was far more difficult than any of the deportment lessons Aunt Bess had tried to teach her, for she constantly had to guard her tongue.

For Derek, Johanna’s return to Ambersley spelled sweet torture. Her mere presence lightened the mood of those around her even while she remained the proper young lady they’d taught her to be. He found he missed those days when he could have demanded she share her thoughts, but that easy camaraderie they’d shared seemed to have disappeared along with her breeches. It would be improper to press a young lady to speak the feelings he read in her eyes as she watched him. In fact, the proprieties were a damn nuisance.

At her request, Derek took Johanna to the conservatory where she lost herself among flowers and greenery and joy. Even Aunt Bess agreed it would be unexceptional for her to repot the plants. She was never happier than covered with dirt, pruned leaves gathering at her feet.

Seeing the work she accomplished, Derek allowed that perhaps he needed to hire a new gardener. As they left one March evening, he watched Johanna kneel and brush the last of a snowdrift away from a handful of green shoots sprouting from the ground.

She smiled at his bemused expression. “Daffodils.” She feathered her fingers through the tenacious stems. “It’s practically spring, you know.”

Derek offered his hand to help her up. The sweetness of her fingers curling through his unnerved him. “You got your dress muddy,” he said.

As they walked home, her hand in his, he thought how happy a child Johnny had been and compared it with the young lady beside him. Today, playing in the conservatory and tugging on daffodils, he’d caught a glimpse of her happiness. He hadn’t realized how vital that was to him. In truth, he had the uncomfortable sense that his own happiness was somehow twined with hers.

Images of her plagued him well past the time Aunt Bess and Johanna bid him goodnight. Derek stared into the fireplace and saw Johanna kneeling beside snow-covered daffodil shoots. An unexpected heat flared up as readily as the flames before him.
He wanted her.
He couldn’t explain why or how or when it had happened, but desire was there, so obvious he couldn’t ignore it.

He pushed away from the fire to stalk the drawing room. Useless to fantasize about her ivory skin, or her vibrant aqua eyes, or the eyebrow that lifted in its maddening way. He would never dream of breaking the proprieties with Johanna. She was the daughter of a duke and entrusted to his care. Never would he taste the sweet response of her first kiss, or the delicate skin behind her ear, or watch her eyes dilate with desire. He’d seen her slender but strong legs in breeches, but he’d never see them as his imagination did, wrapped around his waist as she experienced the most intimate ecstasy. He would never share any of these moments with Johanna.

Not unless he married her.

Derek laughed bitterly to himself. As her guardian, he had no business contemplating such a union. As the bastard son of a murderess, even less so.

Marriage was something he’d avoided for obvious reasons. Since his commitment had always been to hand over the reins to Curtis and return to India, a wife and child would have been a shackle. But uncovering Johanna’s true identity had muddled all his plans. He wouldn’t relinquish Ambersley to his half brother until Curtis proved his worthiness, and yet he refused to foist an heir upon Ambersley that wasn’t of Vaughan blood.

But Johanna was a Vaughan, and her son would be a fitting heir to Ambersley. It had been clear in Bath she was infatuated with him, like a schoolgirl experiencing her first stirrings of love. He stared into the fire and tortured himself with another vision of her as she’d been in the conservatory, dirt on her hem and joy in her eyes. Even the smell of moist earth and greenery came back to tease his memory. The rush of desire struck him again. Would a lifetime of marriage be too high a price for bedding Johanna?

His thoughts turned to the alternative and sparked jealousy. If she wed another, he would be forced to bury this attraction he felt forever. He doubted it would release him; it had taken hold upon him like a sturdy vine, and the thought of her with another man only strengthened the vine’s grasp. With a frown, he acknowledged there lay a place in his heart reserved for Johanna alone.

Was this love then, this explosive mix of desire and jealousy? He admitted to little familiarity with the emotion. But this he could recognize—she seemed to favor him.

And he wanted her with an intensity that would brook any cost.

~

The ides of March heralded spring, and bright shafts of light pierced the thick mists blanketing the east meadow as the pair of riders broke through the tree line. Derek watched Johanna slow her gelding and inhale the morning air fragrant with pine and hyacinth.

As she crested a grassy knoll near the meadow’s center, Johanna stopped her horse and pointed toward the monument on her left. “My memorial’s still here.”

Derek followed as she urged her horse toward the marble edifice. He jumped down and crossed to Johanna’s mount.

She gazed fondly at the familiar lion and lamb. “Someone still tends it. Do I have you to thank for that?”

Derek helped her alight. “I didn’t think it should be neglected, but some of the local women have started treating it like a shrine. When a child grows sick, the mothers leave flowers here.”