by Sylvia Day
Diana met her sister’s gaze with a frank one of her own. “There’s one other option.”
“I refuse to call that an option. That’s more of a jail sentence.”
Diana agreed with her sister’s sentiment, and felt a pinch of regret for even telling her, but Emily was her closest friend and she had to confide in someone. It was more of a sentence, but the payoff made the idea far more tempting than it should. She’d heard about Lord Barrington’s reputation; her father had warned them all about him for years, going as far as to forbid them from riding on land that bordered his estate. It was much more than a reputation as a rake; he was known to be heartless in business, emotionless in pursuit of what he wanted. A cold shiver trailed down her back at the thought. Would she be just another acquisition? And why her? Was London so repelled by him that no desperate mama wanted him for a son-in-law? It was possible, but there had to be more. She’d have to find out.
“You can’t be considering it, not truly.” Emily walked around the desk and placed a light hand on Diana’s shoulder. “Your spirit would break. We’d lose you, in more ways than one.”
Diana shifted her shoulder so that Emily’s hand slid off. “It would provide a solution.”
“You’re far more than a ‘solution,’ ” Emily replied with an edge of fear.
The sound of footsteps made Diana push back the hopelessness of her thoughts. “Di?” Eva’s voice was sleepy. “Why are you all awake? Is there something going on? Where’s Tully?” Eva rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand and stifled a yawn.
“Tully’s in bed, like you should be.” Diana stood and walked over to her second-youngest sister, enveloping her in a hug. Her curly brown hair tickled Diana’s nose as she kissed the top of Eva’s head. “Go to sleep, love. All’s well.”
“Are you sure? . . . Mama was crying earlier. She didn’t know I saw her. . . . I didn’t want to ask. She cries so much since Father died.” Eva’s arms stretched around Diana, and she glanced up with her chocolate brown eyes.
“I know, sweetheart. And Mama is just sad; we all miss Father.”
“Are we going to move?”
Diana froze and then smoothed Eva’s hair once more. “Where did you hear that?”
“Mama was putting some of the books into a crate.” Eva spoke with the innocence and directness of a child.
“You have nothing to worry about. We’re not going anywhere right now. Well, you are.” Diana poked her little sister’s side, causing her to jump and giggle. “You’re going to bed.”
“But I’m not that tired—” Her words were cut off with a yawn as she sheepishly smiled at her sister.
“I’ll take you back to bed.“ Emily reached out and grasped her sister’s hand. “We’ll read a bit, and the next thing you know it will be morning.”
Eva left with Emily, Diana watching their retreat with a fondness and protective instinct that outweighed every other obstacle. With a decisive nod, she returned to her desk and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and sealed her future. Buying her sisters’ freedom at the price of her own.
CHAPTER 3
Brook studied the flourishes of the pen on paper, a smile teasing his lips at the exhilarating feeling of conquest. He set the parchment down, and quickly dispatched a missive to his solicitor in London. Now came the details, which had to be perfect. They would be married in the country, so there would be no scandal as he brought her, unaccompanied, to London. For all his scandalous ways, he knew how to be proper when he wanted to be, when it suited his purpose.
He’d need a license as well. It would be rather time consuming to apply for one at Doctors’ Commons. He’d apply for an ordinary license, providing the woman—Diana—was a member of the local parish. That would take care of that detail.
And finally, and most important, he dispatched a missive by express to Lord Walker, to notify him of his impending marriage. As he finished the missive, he signed with a near-violent flourish. Let the deal be done then; the acquiring of the entirety of Walker’s estate in the Caribbean would then be his, and his alone.
Finally.
It was nearly five years he’d been working toward this goal, with the possibility of it so near, yet so far away. Each time the old man would hint at it, he’d change his mind. However, with the death of his son there was no one to inherit the business estate—and Brook had made an offer that was very difficult to refuse.
Yet Walker did. Foolish old man, sentimental to a fault, he had insisted the estate belong to a family.
Not a bachelor who would surely squander it.
As if Brook had squandered his fortune; no, he’d doubled it, tripled it even. But the old man wouldn’t be moved.
And with every week that passed, Lord Walker’s health declined.
Time was of the essence, and with Brook soon to be acquiring a wife, he would fulfill the stipulations put forth by Lord Walker.
The documents were already drafted by Brook’s solicitor, and Walker had given his word to sign if the requirements were met. So close, Brook was so very close.
And yet so far away, in Sussex.
He dispatched all the missives, and steepled his fingers, holding them to his lips as he considered his next move.
Withdrawing another piece of parchment, he wrote a message to Miss Diana Lambson, soon to be Countess Barrington. He paused. It had a nice sound to it; he could get used to the concept, provided she understood that this was going to be a contract more than a marriage. Which was the reason for the missive. He toyed with the idea of telling her the details in person but rather wished to keep everything as concise and impersonal as possible, no attachments.
So he began:
Miss Diana Lambson,
I’m pleased you agreed to accept my offer of marriage. In the honor of being truthful, I wish to outline several expectations I have in such a contract as marriage. I assume you’ll be amenable to them, since you certainly are not attached to me in any way.
First, this is a marriage of convenience. I do not wish for your attachment, nor do I expect it. However, I do require your respect and you to fulfill your wifely obligations and the obligations that come with the title of Countess of Barrington.
Second, I will require an heir, but after said heir is born, you are free to seek your pleasure however you wish. Which leads to my third requirement, that you will be aware that I will do the same.
In return, all debts of your family will be paid in full, with a small dowry designated to each of your sisters. Your mother will also be provided for; with your estate fully repaired, its reestablishment as a sheep farm will create an income for the estate’s maintenance.
I trust you’ll approve of the terms I’ve outlined. I plan to visit the local vicar to procure a common license, so that we may be married this weekend.
Yours—CB, Earl of Barrington
Brook studied the letter, then dispatched it via messenger to the estate. It was half past ten, and he was quite certain he’d done more than a day’s work in less than a few hours. It was a delightful feeling. If he were in London, he’d reward himself by visiting Celine in her cozy town house, taking the rest of the day slow and deliciously in her ample company. But he wasn’t in London. He was in bloody Sussex. With a low curse, he noted the stack of estate business that needed his attention. Though reluctant, Brook prided himself on his attention to business, even the mundane type. Now, if he could only view this impending marriage as business, he might actually be good at it.
Pity he was pretty certain that this was one business venture he’d not find immediate success at. But as long as everything followed the outline in the letter, it couldn’t fail too badly. Expectations were important, and as long as Miss Lambson’s kept to the rational, he had nothing to fear.
He hoped.
After all, the worst that could happen would be that she’d fall in love with him.
Which was laughable. And he wouldn’t even consider the idea of falling in love with her. After all,
who in all of England fell in love with his wife? A courtesan maybe, a mistress, possibly. But to fall for one’s own wife . . . impossible.
Wasn’t it?
CHAPTER 4
Diana knocked on her mother’s dressing room door, clutching her fists afterward, reviewing her words carefully in her mind.
“Come in.”
Diana exhaled, then opened the door. Her mother was still in bed, her frame small and fragile. “Good afternoon, Mama.” Diana tenderly sat on her mother’s bed and smoothed her hair from her mobcap. “Are you feeling better?”
Her mother had been up late. Having overheard some of the conversation between Diana and the Earl of Barrington, she had assumed they were selling the estate and had begun packing. Why, Diana wasn’t sure. However, the exertion had taxed her already fragile mother and she hadn’t risen from bed this morning.
“I’m a little better. Tell me, are we getting a good price for the estate?” Diana’s mother asked, tears pooling in her eyes.
“No,” Diana replied, then forced a smile. “It’s actually better than that.” Patting her mother’s hand, she continued. “I’m to marry the Earl of Barrington and he will, in turn, provide for our entire family. Our estate is safe, your daughters will have dowries, and you can stay here, in your home, Mama.” Diana’s lips stretched into a real smile, happy in the knowledge that her family would be safe, provided for, and in their beloved home. It was worth it.
It had to be.
“The Earl of Barrington?” her mother repeated, her expression confused.
“Yes.”
“Do, that is, are we acquainted with him?”
“Slightly, enough that he wished to marry me.”
“The name sounds so familiar. Does he own the estate that borders ours?”
Diana knew her mother was connecting the information in her mind, and before she could disapprove Diana changed the subject, hoping her mother’s fatigue would win over her awareness. “How about some tea? Do you wish for some breakfast? I know we have some biscuits as well.”
“Oh, tea would be lovely. Thank you. I’m so tired, I think I’ll just rest a while longer.”
“I’ll have the tea sent up.” Diana rose slowly from the bed, careful to not disturb her mother.
“Are you happy?” her mother asked, eyes closed.
A tear slid down Diana’s face. “Yes.”
And she was.
Because she would be giving her family exactly what they needed. And maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she feared: freedom was exactly what the Earl of Barrington was offering her, and that was an enticing compromise. He wasn’t expecting her love, and she wasn’t willing to give it.
A marriage of convenience. It was a fair bargain. At least, fair enough. As she closed the door to her mother’s room, she sent her sister Tully to bring their mother tea.
She thought back to his earlier letter, and decided it was only proper to return the gesture. He’d written of his expectations, and it was only fair she outline her own. From the beginning, he needed to understand he wasn’t marrying an English Wallflower; no, she was made of far studier stuff, and wasn’t about to back down. She had expectations of her own. So it was with a bit of a saucy grin, and more than a little cheek, she started her own letter. Let him know now just whom he was dealing with.
Lord Barrington,
Thank you for your letter. It was very clear, concise, and outlined the needed particulars. And, in following your fashion, I felt it was necessary I return the sentiment and give my own specifications.
First, I wish for all the particulars to be in writing, from a solicitor, delivered to my estate the week after we are married.
Second, I request immediate relief for my family’s current needs, and I would kindly ask for you to assist them.
Third, in reference to your more private requirements, I agree.
My local vicar should be able to assist you with the common license, and you can expect that this weekend will be a good date for the marriage to take place. I hope these particulars will suffice.
Sincerely,
Miss Lambson
A sense of power filled her spirit at being able to dictate her own needs in the situation. Maybe it wasn’t as hopeless as she thought. To have control of one’s destiny was an important aspect of life, and she cherished the sensation. As she sent off the missive, she felt lighter, as if an entire weight—in truth, the weight of the entire estate—was lifted from her shoulders. Her family was safe, cared for, and she’d have the power to assist wherever necessary.
It was the right decision.
She was giving up the option of ever falling in love, but such was the cost for freedom. For certainly, if she were in love, freedom would be compromised, and in this situation it was the smallest threat.
It was a lovely thing to have traded large, looming threats for small ones.
Because it was truly impossible to think of falling in love with the Earl of Barrington. She would be content to find a way to simply like the man. Certainly that wasn’t asking too much?
CHAPTER 5
As the valet made the final adjustments to Brook’s wedding attire, the earl allowed his mind to review the past few days. It had been quite the full schedule, but everything had gone according to plan. The local vicar was quite accommodating to providing a common license, and agreed to a Saturday morning wedding. Of course, the several pounds in excess of his usual fee assisted with his cooperation. Everyone had their price.
In response to Miss Lambson’s letter, Brook had offered some financial relief to her family. He had to admit that the letter had taken him by surprise. He wasn’t one to underestimate someone, but he most certainly had Miss Lambson. She was daring, and knew what she wanted. It was an admirable quality, and he begrudgingly was impressed with her pluck. He only hoped it wasn’t often aimed at him.
Though he wasn’t too hopeful on that front. However, he expected their interactions to be of a minimal variety, even more so once an heir had been given. Though he was reminded that such things take time.
“All finished, my lord.” His valet stepped back. Brook tugged on his waistcoat sleeve, then adjusted a few minor details and gave a curt nod to his valet.
As Brook took leave of his rooms and made his way to the waiting carriage, he noted that he was no longer to be the Devil’s Bachelor. It was quite an end to an era, if he said so himself. But all good things had to come to an end, and at three and thirty it was more than time for him to settle down.
Not that he had any expectations of settling down; rather, he just wished for the appearance of such. It was a convenient thing to have appearances so deceiving.
The carriage pulled from his estate and took the main road to the local church. It wasn’t a long trip, one he didn’t require a carriage for, but after the ceremony it would be more convenient for the two of them to take the carriage back to his estate for the wedding breakfast. Cook had been planning in a fury for the past few days. After the breakfast, they would spend one more night at his estate, then travel to London, where all the necessary papers could be signed so that, finally, he would have Lord Walker’s estate.
He could almost taste the money he would make from the venture, if tasting money were possible.
Miss Lambson was already present, as whispered to him by the vicar once Brook arrived at the church. The pews were sparsely filled, and he noted a rather fragile-looking woman surrounded by miniature versions of herself. Deducing the woman was his soon-to-be mother-in-law, he gave a curt nod of respect in her direction.
She returned the gesture, but the ladies beside her offered no such graciousness. Rather, he felt the animosity as if it were heat waves. Straightening his spine, he turned toward the back of the church as he took his place at the front.
In a few moments, the back of the church opened, allowing sunlight to spill in. A young woman approached, dressed in a faded light blue frock. As he turned his attention to the next in line, he saw the unm
istakably frank gaze of his soon-to-be wife, Miss Lambson. Her eyes were calm, but her back was held in a rigid posture, betraying her emotions. He studied her, watching her approach with a grace that pleased him. In fact, he found that she pleased him in every way. Her dress gave advantage to her lovely feminine form and her hair was curled in such a fashion to draw the eye to her delicate features and rosebud mouth. If she smiled, she would surely be transformed from merely pleasing to beautiful, but he was not expecting such a boon as a smile.
No.
And he didn’t wish for it either. It would merely complicate matters, and he had enough complications in other matters, no need for more.
She paused before the vicar, and met Brook’s gaze. The strength and resolve in her regard were impressive, and as he took her hands when the vicar started he noted that there was no tremble.
Good. The last thing he needed was a hysterical, emotional female.
They repeated the required phrases, they prayed the required prayers, and sooner than he could have hoped, they were man and wife.
“You may kiss your bride,” the vicar announced.
Brook watched as his new bride swallowed, then lifted her chin just slightly. The devilish part of him wanted to test her strength, her resolve, and take more than was proper, to really kiss her to simply see her reaction. And as per his usual, he followed temptation’s whisper and bit back a grin as he leaned forward to seal their marriage.
He paused just before her lips, rubbing his nose carefully against hers. If he’d learned anything about women, it’s that they love the small little bits of foreplay—a touch, a whisper, a stroke, a lie: it was all part of the game. She was expecting a quick kiss; let her learn now that he would do nothing quickly but would take his pleasure as long as he liked, even when just experiencing a kiss.
A sharp intake of her breath caused his smile to widen as he ran his nose down her cheek and then paused with his lips just at the corner of her mouth. Darting his tongue out just slightly, only enough for her to feel, no one to see, he tasted the corner of her lips, felt the softness as she parted them. He kissed her then, slowly, prolonging every moment, stretching time itself as he caressed her lower lip with a flick of his tongue, learning her flavor. He deepened the kiss, gauging her reaction, gratified when she didn’t shy away but leaned in ever so faintly. Releasing her hands, he trailed his hands up her arms, teasing the exposed flesh between her gloves and where her cap sleeves covered her shoulders. Gooseflesh erupted along her skin, and he slowed his movements, trying to provoke more of a reaction.