Ambersley (Lords of London) Read Free

and learn the gardens, so they won’t be surprised that we took in a little boy. We’ll tell them he’s been living with us since spring, but he was so sad about losing his mum, we didn’t want to draw attention to him.”
     
    Tom watched her, sympathy tingeing his eyes. “You cannot grow too fond of the child. Remember, we must restore her to her family.”
     
    “ To her family, yes, but we cannot let anyone else take her.”
     
    “ Agreed.” Tom took her hand in both his own. Long into the night, they sat awake in bed but spoke not another word on the painful topic.
     
    And thus, Amber Johanna Vaughan disappeared, and Johnny became the foster son of a gardener.
     
    ~
     
    Johnny blossomed during her first year with Tom and Martha. The nightmares were forgotten, and the bright, happy child was accepted by all at Ambersley. One evening, after receiving the child’s token of battered daffodils, Martha asked Tom if he thought Johnny would ever remember her past and tragic loss. Tom shrugged and lit his pipe. They both tried to remain detached, but as another spring progressed to summer and the second anniversary of the fire passed with no sign of the Ambersley heir, they realized Johnny had become an integral part of their family. They loved her as their own, and she loved them as any child would her parents.
     
    Johnny adored the gardens and the conservatory that were Tom’s domain, especially the rose garden. He let her play in the churned up dirt, only warning her to mind the precious roses and their protective thorns. Her other favorite spot was the stables—it was a special treat when Tom would suggest they pluck some clover for the coach horses.
     
    One day, after they’d fed and petted the nose of one of the dappled grays, Rory the groom asked Tom if Johnny wanted to see a litter of kittens only two weeks old. The kittens were soft mewling balls of orange striped fur, and the mother watched with tail twitching as Johnny stroked them. Rory showed her the difference between the little boys and girls, let her touch their tiny but sharp claws and explained that their uniform blue eyes had only opened two days before.
     
    As they walked back to the cottage, Johnny asked, “Tom, am I boy or a girl?”
     
    Tom longed for his pipe as he sought an answer. He looked down into Johnny’s troubled face with its firm chin and trusting blue-green eyes. He’d grown accustomed to her wavy chestnut curls pulled back into a shoulder-length queue, and it no longer seemed odd to him that she dressed in boys’ clothes.
     
    “ You’re a girl, Johnny.” He said it gently, as if somehow he had to soften the blow.
     
    She looked at him earnestly. “But I’m dressed as a boy. You always call me your foster son.”
     
    “ I know. ’Tis the only way you can stay with Martha and me. Come home, and I’ll explain everything.” Tom offered his hand and Johnny grasped two of his fingers.
     
    Tom explained the situation to Martha as soon as they arrived. She pulled the stewpot away from the fire and went to Johnny seated on the table’s bench.
     
    “ Johnny?” Martha’s voice was little more than a whisper. When the girl looked up, Martha recognized fear in her eyes—fear like she hadn’t seen since the first few weeks the child had come to live with them. Not but six years old, how could they make her understand?
     
    With great care, Tom started to explain. “You know we’re not your true parents.”
     
    Johnny nodded slowly.
     
    “ You were not meant to live with us. But something happened to your family, and I found you. Do you remember the morning I found you?”
     
    Johnny shook her head.
     
    Tom and Martha exchanged a look. Tom added, “I found you, and we’ve kept you with us, but someday you must return to your family.”
     
    “ No. I don’t want to leave you. Don’t send me away.” Her wide eyes pleaded for mercy.
     
    “ We’ll never send you away, sweetheart.” Martha wiped her