“Is it?” Luke challenged.
No, it wasn’t, but that was why Elliott was working so hard to get his resolution passed. He needed to end the misery for so many, including the newest member of Diana’s household—Mr. Lucifer.
Chapter Five
Amber followed the butler and Lady Dunnamore up the stairs. She tried to look with a critical eye. It was the only way she could combat the overwhelming sense of giddiness at being inside a majestic old home, at walking behind a lady who moved like she floated upon the air, and at being an imposter to a woman who seemed beset by her own troubles.
She tried to be unimpressed but failed. Amber saw the peeling wallpaper but was left awed by the fine portraits hanging upon it. She noticed the thin fabric on the chairs but smelled the beeswax that glossed the wood to a shine. The staff was meticulous, she saw, but the family did not spend on upkeep. This wasn’t a surprise as the blighter, Geoffrey, had been to the Lyon’s Den often. He had pawned jewelry there, he had played deep and lost, and he had been escorted off the premises when he had become too drunk to hold a pair of dice.
“Lord Dunnamore rests in there,” Lady Dunnamore said in the barest voice. “My chamber is there.” She pointed to the room next door. “And you shall be here,” she said as stepped into a bright yellow room set directly beside her bedroom. “It only needs an airing and bedding. That shan’t take long. In the meantime, you must come into my room, and we will look at what gowns can be fitted to you.”
“None of them, I’m afraid,” Amber said. Lady Dunnamore was thin and light. Amber, on the other hand, had a larger chest, rounder hips, and muscles that added bulk.
“Don’t be too sure,” the lady said as she eyed Amber. “I’ve thinned in the last few years. I’m sure I can find something that will serve.”
“My lady, please. I don’t wish to impose—” she began, but Lady Dunnamore cut her off.
“Why don’t we talk in my bedchamber as yours is being set right? I am quite curious, you know. Mama said so little about you.”
Her Mama had said nothing of her at all, but Amber had no way to know if she was impersonating a real person who was the daughter of Lady Byrn’s friend or someone completely imaginary. Either way, she couldn’t construct a story until she learned the facts from Lord Byrn. Unfortunately, his sister wasn’t giving her any choice as she held open her bedroom door and gestured Amber inside.
“Come in,” she said in a soft voice. “Only we must keep our voices down. Lord Dunnamore’s rest is easily disturbed.”
“Of course, Lady—”
“Hush.” She carefully shut her bedroom door and then went to press her ear against the door that adjoined with her husband’s room. They could both hear the snores that came from inside. So with a smile, the lady turned back to Amber. Except the smile was not friendly. It showed teeth and did not reach the ice in her blue eyes. “What is your real name?” she asked quietly.
“Amber Gohar, my lady.”
“I will have the truth. All of it.”
“I have no wish to burden you, my lady. It was not my idea to involve you.”
The woman nodded, and though she seemed like a stiff wind could blow her aside, the look she settled on Amber had weight. A distinctly uncomfortable weight, and Amber barely restrained herself from shuffling her feet like a guilty child.
“Did you know that Elliott inherited his title when he was twelve years old?” she asked.
This question was asked in a casual manner at distinct odds with her heavy stare. Amber wasn’t sure what to make of it, so she answered in the politest tones. “I did not know that, my lady.”
“I was the eldest, so I had to keep things going. It was years before he was old enough to pay attention, you know. So it fell to me.”
“Not your mother?” Amber’s mother had died years before, but when alive, she had been a force to be reckoned with. She kept all the men in line and raised Amber with a stern hand.
Diana shook her head. “My mother did what she thought best.”
That was not a compliment to her mother.
“Once my brother grew of age, he fought for me, my mother, and my sisters. Nothing was easy, and my husband was cruel to him. And yet, he found a way, and I am in a better place because of it.”
That was a surprise. Just how bad had it been? And what had Lord Byrn done to make it better? Questions swirled in her mind, but she kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t her place to ask.
“Suffice it to say that I am extremely grateful to my brother, and so I will do whatever he asks to the best of my ability. Whatever that means regarding you.”
“That is extraordinarily kind of you.”
“It is nothing of the sort,” she answered, her tone growing more tart. “It is what I will do for my family.” Then her voice took on more volume and strength. “Which means I will also destroy anyone who harms him, and in the most humiliating way possible. Do I make myself clear?”
The threat was clear, as was the steel inside Lady Dunnamore. It was impressive, and Amber responded with a meek, “Yes, my lady. Perfectly clear.” Except that was not her only response.
This whole situation was like something out of her dreams. That she should attend a ball or even spend a night as a guest of a true lady was akin to her dream of dancing with the prince. None of it felt real, and tiny champagne bubbles of giddiness tickled her insides. They teased her sense of humor and made her smile when she should be curtseying like the lowest maid.
“Do you think I am jesting with you?” Lady Dunnamore demanded.
“No, my lady. Definitely not.” Amber did her best to school her voice and expression to one of deepest contrition. But she couldn’t. She was just too happy.
She was living out one of her favorite daydreams, where she was the poor relation of a lonely woman of means. Where she arrived at the house, brought friendship to the lady, and one day was able to attend a ball where she danced with a handsome man. Some days it was the prince. Other days, he was a king already. And sometimes, he was quite simply the fiercest and most handsome warrior in the land.
“Then why—”
“I did not ask to come here. That was his lordship’s idea. But now that I am here, I find I like you quite well and will be pleased with whatever time I get to share with you.” That was true, although not the whole truth since she was not going to talk about her dream of going to a ball.
Her ladyship frowned for a moment, then lifted her chin. “Will you tell me everything?”
Amber bit her lip. “Perhaps you should ask your brother.”
“I am asking you.”
And here, Amber had a choice. She could confess all, or she could invent another story from her fertile imagination. She could pretend all sorts of nonsense, and she had a large store of fantasies from which to draw. The need to spin a tale burned on her tongue, but Lady Dunnamore deserved better. Why? Because her stepson was the blighter Geoffrey, and so her life could very well be a disaster of his making.
“I am a tradeswoman,” she finally said, feeling her cheeks heat in embarrassment. If Lady Dunnamore wished to humiliate her, this was the best way. “Your brother needs me to fashion a brooch for him made exactly as appears in Lady Morthan’s portrait.”