Ambersley (Lords of London) (16 page)

“
She’s eleven now, and I think she’d be safe enough with her ladyship. I’d face jail to see her restored to her family, but for one thing—she don’t remember.” His voice broke on the last word. “I don’t know if she could take learning the truth.”

Martha tried to imagine Tom swearing Johnny’s true identity to the duke’s disbelieving household. They’d be put in Bedlam! And would Johnny herself ever believe them? Would it bring back the horrible nightmares she had suffered the first year she spent with them? And if they succeeded, Johnny would be taken away from them, and they might never see her again.

She pushed aside the guilt. “You’re right, Tom. She don’t remember anything about her past, and she’s safe and happy with us. We should keep our silence. For her sake.”

Tom nodded sadly. “And may God have mercy on our souls."

~

Johnny ran all the way to the Hall and arrived out of breath at the front drive. The coach had left, and the Hall’s doors stood closed. She knew knocking on the heavy walnut panel would only draw a severe scolding from Paget. Faster than a puppy on a fresh scent, she bounded to the rear of the Hall by the rose garden and was rewarded with a glimpse of the duke inside the library. She stole up to the French doors and tapped lightly on the glass.

He looked up from the paper he was studying, and Johnny grinned as she waved at him. His lips twitched in response, and he came to the doors.

“
Shouldn’t you be at supper?” he asked with a severe frown.

Johnny wasn’t fooled. She threw her thin arms around his waist in a quick awkward hug. Recalling herself, she stepped back. “I missed you. You were gone forever.”

He ruffled her hair. “I was gone less than a fortnight.”

Unable to contain her curiosity, Johnny launched her many questions. “Did you see the magistrate? Did he give you the money? Did you—”

“
Whoa, Johnny. One question at a time.” The duke led her toward the rose bower where he seated himself. “Yes, my inquisitive little jay, I did speak to a magistrate, and so did Mr. Minton and a Bow Street Runner. The magistrate agreed with all of us that Miss Amber must surely be dead. So he signed a certificate and Mr. Minton is now transferring Amber Vaughan’s money into my accounts.”

Johnny leaned forward. “Was she awfully rich?” she whispered.

“
Yes. Between you and me. Awfully,” he responded with a wink.

Johnny whooped and spun around in her joy. When she came to a stop, the whole garden spun, but that was part of the fun. “Now you can finish repairing the Hall, and buy a new coach and four, and put the footmen in new livery.”

“
I can do all that and more,” he agreed with a laugh.

“
Will you open your London house and expand the stables here and re-thatch the cottages and bring a dentist to visit the tenants?”

He tilted his head at this last item. “A dentist? Do your teeth hurt?”

“
Not mine, but Rory lost a tooth only last week.” Her head bobbed with earnestness. “He was in awful pain. Tom told me the late duke brought a dentist to Ambersley every year to see all the tenants.”

He sat quietly while she continued her list in a rush—the Vaughan crest over the front door needed repainting and what color coach horses did he plan to buy and how it must be so exciting to visit London.

When she paused for breath, he interrupted her. “What other things do the tenants need?”

She scrunched her face with concentration. “The Tate family just had a new baby, and Martha said they don’t have enough room in the cottage for everyone. And this last winter, when it got so cold, Widow Sanders borrowed one of our quilts, and Tom won’t let Martha ask for it back. And—” She grasped for other things she’d heard. “And Mrs. Chalmers wishes there was a new stove in the kitchen—she said so the other day.”

“
I see.”

His deflated tone made her shoulders slump in response. She joined him on the stone bench beneath the arbor. “Should I not have told you about the stove?” she asked with concern.

Derek sighed as his responsibilities once again took precedence. “No, I needed to know it.” With Miss Amber’s coffers now open to him, he’d arranged with Minton to set up funds for Curtis and Olivia—funds their mother couldn’t touch. He thought he’d taken care of things, but apparently there were more people depending on him.

He looked at the boy, so eager to please. “It’s vital I know what’s happening at Ambersley. Promise me you’ll always tell me the truth, Johnny.”

The lad blushed. “Why me, my lord?”

“
Because I trust you.” He watched Johnny’s cheeks grow even pinker and noticed a discoloration of the skin surrounding the boy’s left eye. “Here, what’s this?” He touched the puffy skin, and Johnny flinched under his hand. “Who hit you?”

Johnny became engrossed in the toe of his boot. “I’d rather not say, my lord.”

Anger simmered within him. “Was it Tom?”

Wide eyes flew up to his in reproach. “Never, my lord. Tom and Martha, they’d never strike me. Tom was right angry when I came home with this shiner. I got into an argument with someone, and this just happened.”

Derek’s lips tightened. Numerous times he’d warned Johnny to stay away from the stable lads. The child seemed determined to fit in among boys older and bigger. He studied Johnny’s slight frame and doubted the eleven-year-old would ever grow large.

“
My lord, what exactly is a bastard?”

The question caught Derek by surprise. He frowned, displeased anyone would sully the bright child with this word. “Does this have something to do with your shiner?”

The boy grimaced, and his gaze fled to his boots again. After a long pause, he nodded.

“
Very well, lad. A bastard is a rather unfriendly way of saying that someone is illegitimate. By that, I mean a person’s parents weren’t married to each other when he was born.”

Johnny mulled this over. “Does that make a person bad?”

“
No, I don’t believe that makes a person bad.” Derek watched and waited while the child wrestled with this information.

Johnny met his gaze with solemn eyes. “Curtis told me he’d learned I was a bastard, and I wasn’t fit to talk with him, or Olivia, or even you. I didn’t know what it meant, but I’ve always known my parents weren’t married. That’s why I live with Tom and Martha. I got angry when he said I couldn’t talk to you. I don’t care about talking with Curtis, but Olivia’s my friend. I didn’t like him calling me names and telling me what I could and couldn’t do. That’s when we started to fight.”

“
Curtis blacked your eye?”

“
Aye, but I bloodied his nose.” The brief spark of fire in Johnny’s eyes dimmed. “I’ve kept clear of him ever since. My lord, are there lots of bastards?”

“
Lots of them. Some from the finest families—even the Royal family. Johnny, do you know who your parents are?”

“
My mother was Martha’s cousin. I’ve heard Martha say her cousin wasn’t wed, and that’s how I came to be apprenticed to Tom.”

“
You don’t know who your father is?”

“
No, my lord.”

“
I think—and I bet Curtis thinks it, too—that you are the image of the late duke. I believe he’s your father, and you are his illegitimate son.”

Johnny seemed to ponder this long and hard. “Is that why Martha wants me to talk right, and Tom won’t let me help him with the heavy work in the garden even though I’m his apprentice?” The boy thought some more and then smiled. “My father owned Ambersley,” he stated with a simplicity that tugged at Derek’s heart.

He couldn’t help but ask, “Would you like to own it one day?”

“
That wouldn’t be right,” Johnny answered with immediate sincerity. “Ambersley is yours.”

They sat in companionable silence as a few lazy bees hummed in the midsummer twilight, until the boy hopped off the bench and sketched a tiny bow. “I have to go eat supper.”

Derek watched the small figure disappear into the chestnut grove. Alone in the rose garden, he grinned at the prospect of little Johnny swinging at Curtis. How like the boy to so casually accept the circumstances of his birth and defend his good name. He sobered as he recalled his own stormy confrontation with his father all those years ago. Goaded by his stepmother, he’d barged into Reginald Vaughan’s study like a mannerless urchin.

“
Stepmother just told me the truth about Mothe—That I’m a bastard. Father, tell me she’s wrong.” Derek prayed his father would sweep away the grimy soot of these lies. Instead, Derek read shame on the older man’s face.

“
I’m sorry. I hope one day you’ll understand and be able to forgive your mother and me. Sit here, and I’ll try to explain—”

“
There’s no need to explain, sir,” Derek spat out with dignity. Inside he was shaking with humiliation as he recalled his mother’s cold, selfish behavior. He’d always thought the blood in his veins was tempered by Reginald Vaughan’s warmth and kindness. Now he didn’t know who his father might be. “The story is plain. You were snapped up by a common trollop. She got what she deserved, and you’ve been stuck with me.”

Reginald Vaughan came around the desk, and Derek never guessed his intention until the older man backhanded him sharply across the face. His eyes swam with unshed tears as he felt the stinging heat rise on his cheek. This man he had called father had never struck him before.

“
You’ll show proper respect for your mother around me, my boy. I loved her.” Reginald’s voice cracked on the last words, and he turned away.

“
Then I am sorry for you, sir. I think, under the circumstances, it will be better if I leave this house. I cannot believe we will ever see eye to eye on this.” Derek waited, but the older man said nothing. His heart urged him to run, to lock himself in his room, to cry the frustrated tears of a child. But he was no longer a child. He wished fervently he had never learned of this. He could have lived his whole life in contentment never knowing the truth. He marched toward the door.

Reginald’s voice stopped him. “One day, my boy, you will love one woman with all your heart. Then, you’ll understand.”

“
Indeed, sir, I sincerely hope not,” Derek replied bitterly.

He went directly to his room where he packed a single bag to take with him. Shirts, hair ribbons, brush, razor, breeches and stockings all went into the bag without thought.

His stepmother opened the door a crack. “Derek?”

He proudly held his ground as she entered.

“
Your father tells me you plan to leave us,” she said quietly.

“
Immediately.” Derek lifted his bag from the bed.

She held out a small pouch heavy with coin. “You cannot go without means.”

Derek battled with himself, but finally took the bag. He’d left for foreign lands and toiled in many kinds of work. The Army had been an enlightenment, though it unnerved him how fast he took to leading men into death and destruction. He had his mother’s quick temper—did he have her killing instincts as well?

For three years now he’d planned to hand the title to Curtis once finances were secure and return to the simple, deadly life of the Army. But judging by taunts and fisticuffs, it was clear Curtis was yet unprepared for the responsibilities demanded by the estate. Derek glanced back toward the chestnut grove where Johnny had disappeared. The lad worried about all the tenants as if they were family.

Noblesse oblige.
Derek no longer doubted Johnny’s father had been the late duke. Unfortunately, Johnny had no means to look after the tenants, only his unwavering faith that Derek was the best duke ever. If only the boy knew the truth—Derek was another bastard son who shouldn’t be admitted to the
ton
. With a resigned sigh, Derek rose and walked toward the library. He was already thinking of the letters he’d have Pritchard send to Minton and Broadmoor. One of them could arrange for blankets, new thatches and, God help him, a dentist.

Chapter 8

Ambersley, June 1811

The staff and tenants commemorated the tenth anniversary of the Hall fire with a candlelight vigil on Midsummer’s Eve. They gathered in the wide drive as dusk surrendered to the stars, and Johnny listened to her elders reminisce while candles glowed upon faces of young and old alike.