A Baron for Becky (7 page)

He would pay
for, and keep, a carriage and horses for her use, including grooms
and stabling. He would pay for a nurse for Sarah, and teachers for
Rose in dance and pianoforte.

She read on.
She couldn’t help the grin, though she managed not to dance in her
seat.

Aldridge would
purchase and staff a town-house within easy distance of Haverford
House. At the end of two years, the house would be hers, free and
clear.

Two years. She
could do anything for two years.

Surely between
the value of the town-house and what she could save, she would be
able to start again in the country? Be free? Give Sarah a decent
life?

He wanted a key
to the house. He wanted her to be available whenever he wished, and
travel if he wanted her company. He wanted the right of renewal
after two years, should he wish to continue to keep her.

He would expect
her to host and accompany him to entertainments and activities. She
frowned a little.

He was watching
closely. “Something wrong?” he asked.

“Would you...
would you expect me to ‘entertain’ other men?” She hated that. Her
third protector had used a night with her to reward his friends or
bribe his allies.

“I’m not good
at sharing what is mine,” Aldridge said. “Mrs Darling, I won’t
insist on you doing anything that makes you feel diminished. Though
I hope you’ll try new things, even if they seem a bit odd or
uncomfortable at first.”

She considered
him carefully. Even in Bristol, even in her circles, Aldridge’s
parties were discussed in scandalised whispers. But rumours were
seldom accurate.

His usual
twinkle deserted him, and his eyes were level and serious as he
said, “Mrs Darling, I ask one thing of my lovers, and I ask it of
you. Tell me what pleases you. Tell what does not please you. Never
pretend pleasure you do not feel.”

“My lord,” she
protested, “this arrangement is about your pleasure, not mine.”

He rejected
that with a swift shake of the head. “My pleasure is enhanced by
your pleasure. Women know this; that is why they pretend. But I
will know if you pretend, Mrs Darling, and that will destroy my
pleasure. If you wish to please me in intimate matters, then you
must first allow me to please you.”

Rose’s mouth
was hanging open. She closed it, gathering her scattered
thoughts.

“I want Sarah
to have her own apartments, and not to...” she blushed again, not
sure quite how to say she was ashamed to let her daughter to see
her being the harlot she was. And afraid those attending Aldridge’s
entertainments might be a danger to Sarah.

Aldridge
nodded. “A town-house with a top floor that has its own
entrance.”

She studied the
papers some more. She was sure she must be missing something. At
her age, this might be her last chance. And Sarah was growing
older, too, and better able to understand what she observed. Rose
had to be careful. “My lord, Lady Chirbury said... I wish to
discuss the contract with the earl.”

Aldridge nodded
again, smiling. “Good idea. He’s not a solicitor, but he is a good
businessman and has read many hundreds of contracts. Not this sort,
precisely, or not that I’ve heard. But he will give you good
advice.”

“You have no
objection?” The man was a miracle.

No. A miracle
would save her without expecting the use of her body as a reward.
But he was kind and generous, and that was miracle enough.

“I want you to
be happy,” Aldridge said again.

To give her
hands something to do, besides trembling and shaking pages of
parchment, Rose prepared a cup of tea for Aldridge the way he liked
it—black and strong with lemon. Then she sliced into the cake.

Aldridge put
out a hand to stop her. “That’s not what I’m hungry for, Rose.” She
glanced at his fall. The fashion for tight knit pantaloons left a
man with nowhere to hide his lust. Her mouth suddenly dry at the
size of what she saw, she met his eyes. For once, he was not
smiling.

“I promised
Rede I’d not bed you under his roof,” he told her. “So perhaps we
could think of something quenching to discuss?”

Rose reached
out and ran a fingernail along the object of her fascination. “Did
he specify bed?” she asked.

Aldridge had to
make two attempts to speak, which she counted a success. “Bed or
otherwise tup,” he told her. “Have you another suggestion?”

Her voice
dropped into another register. “I wouldn’t encourage you to break
your word to your cousin. Nor will I—complete the act with you
until I decide whether or not to accept your contract. But can we
not find a way to enjoy one another short of...?” She slipped her
sleeve down her arm as she spoke, revealing more and more of her
breast.

He swallowed
again, and croaked, “Several ways. Give me one moment to lock the
door.”

But before he
could, it opened. Rose just had time to pull her dress to decency
before an imperious little woman sailed into the room, talking over
her shoulder as she entered the room.

“No, indeed, my
dear Cole, no need to announce me. I know my own nephew’s home. Not
that it ever was my sister’s, of course, but we often visited. Do
you not remember, Aldridge, my dear? Hello, darling, do you not
have a kiss for your Mama?”

Her Grace of
Haverford, for it must be she, presented one perfumed cheek to her
son, then glanced around the room.

Rose attempted
to gather up the pages on the table before the duchess saw
them.

The duchess
frowned, clearly taking in Rose’s dishevelled state and perhaps the
rampant erection Aldridge was valiantly trying to hide behind an
occasional table, too low to do a good job. “Oh, but I have
interrupted. Cole tried to tell me... Oh dear. Shall I go out and
come in again, my love?”

Aldridge, in a
tone equidistant between exasperation, amusement, and despair,
said, “No need, Mama. May I beg your permission to present Mrs Rose
Darling, a guest of the earl and countess? Mrs Darling, this, as
you may have guessed, is Her Grace, the Duchess of Haverford. My
mother.”

Rose performed
her best curtsey, grateful for the training that allowed her to
perform the manoeuvre while shrinking inside, and then made her
escape while the Marquis was interrogating his mother on her
unexpected appearance.

She had no idea
how she felt. Elated, undoubtedly. She had never imagined such a
contract. Shamed, embarrassed... Aldridge’s mother clearly
thought... And she was right. And she was a duchess! If she had
arrived two minutes later... no, Aldridge was going to lock the
door.

Rose giggled
nervously at the thought of the Duchess of Haverford knocking on
the door, demanding her son’s attention while he attempted to put
himself back into his pants. Not that the actual scene was much
better. A bucket of cold water could have separated them no more
quickly.

The duchess’s
arrival would not change Aldridge’s mind, would it?

The entrance
hall was full of people—no doubt ducal servants and attendants.
Rose took the contract papers up to her guest room and sat studying
them until the earl and countess returned and she had to go down to
be sociable.

The Duchess of
Haverford had been visiting friends in Cirencester and was on her
way to call on a goddaughter in Bath. “You will remember Polly,
Anne, dear. She married the Viscount Sudding. And she has been
delivered of a son, which is such a relief for the family. Three
daughters, you know, and the cousin a very odd man. One would not
want him to inherit. And she is still young, so there may be
more.”

The thought
clearly reminded her of her own offspring. “Rede, I had such a
comfortable coze with Aldridge today.” Aldridge was seated on the
floor at her feet, and she patted his cheek lovingly. “I had no
idea you were here, darling. So pleased. I thought you and your
friend, Lord Overton, had gone off to a party somewhere.”

“Overton
returned home, Mama,” Aldridge told her. They had separated in
London two months ago, after Overton read Aldridge a lecture on his
drinking, refusing to ‘follow him to perdition.’ Overton headed
back north to his estate, his wife, and his stepdaughters, and
Aldridge rambled from house party to house party. “His wife is in
expectation of a happy event.”

“How lovely!
Lord Overton was at school with Aldridge, my dears. You remember,
Rede. Such a nice boy. Injured in the war, you know, then came home
to inherit the barony.”

She patted her
son’s cheek again. “He has settled down nicely since he wed.
Aldridge quite misses him, do you not, my love?”

“He is staid
and boring.”

“And a new
baby,” the Duchess continued, taking no notice. “How lovely.”

Aldridge
shifted from under his mother’s hand, and got to his feet. “Perhaps
Mrs Darling would play for us. Would you be so kind?”

Rose nodded,
taking the message from the abrupt change of subject. His
Lordship’s friend was not a topic to be discussed in front of a
mistress, however expensive.

Her Grace
watched her son thoughtfully as he arranged music for Rose, then
turned pages for her. “You play beautifully, my dear,” she said,
when Rose returned to her seat.

“Simple things,
Your Grace,” Rose said. “I fear anything difficult is beyond
me.”

“You do well,
my dear, to know your limits and stay within them,” the duchess
replied, her grave look giving the words another layer of
meaning.

By the time
dinner was called, Rose knew where Aldridge came by his
conversational dexterity. The duchess swooped, with butterfly ease,
from family to family, throughout the
ton,
and up and down
society. Her Grace, it seemed, knew everybody in England, was
related to half of them, and was godmother to the other half.

The addition of
a duchess to the table did not change the informality with which
they dined, and the conversation ranged freely around the table.
Her Grace had news of Lady Chirbury’s sister, Kitty, who had been
staying with her in London. “Dear Kitty; she is meant to be
refreshing her winter wardrobe, but she and Mia will be spending
their pin money on music and books, I dare say.” And she had spent
half an hour with the nursery party. “Your Sarah is such a pretty
child, Mrs Darling. And lovely manners.”

After dinner,
the ladies withdrew to the great parlour, leaving the two men to
the port.

“I am
travelling in the morning, so will go up to bed,” the duchess
announced. “Mrs Darling, perhaps you would give me a few moments of
your time?”

“Be nice,
aunt,” warned Lady Chirbury, making Rose even more nervous. The
duchess gave an enigmatic smile and led the way upstairs.

“Leave us,
dear,” she said to the maid who was standing ready by the bed. “I
shall ring when I want you.” She took a chair by the fire and waved
Rose to the other.

“Do not look so
nervous, Mrs Darling. I do not intend to bite you.”

Rose blushed
scarlet. Aldridge had promised to bite her, and had explained
exactly where. No. She must not think of that. She sat, as
commanded.

“Mrs Darling,
you were raised gentry, were you not?”

Rose nodded,
cautiously. Where was the duchess going with this?

“The manners,
the speech, the accomplishments—they can all be taught, of course.
But one who has learned them from the cradle...” Her Grace waved a
hand as if to flick away counterfeits.

“The usual
story, I imagine? Seduction or rape? And no father to defend your
honour?”

“My father...”
Rose swallowed hard to remove the lump that closed her throat at
the memories. “My father was a librarian. He took the part of his
employer.”

“Ah.” Her Grace
nodded. “And the employer was the cause of your downfall. Or his
son, perhaps?”

“His son,” Rose
confirmed. His sons, in fact, but she would not say that.

“And Sarah was
the...?”

“No, Your
Grace. Sarah... came later.”

“Mr.
Darling?”

“There was no
Mr. Darling,” Rose admitted.

The maid must
have added a fresh log to the fire just before they arrived. The
top was still uncharred, but flames licked up from the bed of hot
embers. A twig that jutted from one side suddenly flared, turned
black, and shrivelled. The bottom of the log began to glow red.

The duchess
spoke again, startling Rose out of her flame-induced trance.

“What do you
want for your daughter, Mrs Darling?”

“A better
life,” Rose said immediately, suddenly fierce. “A chance to be
respectable. A life that does not depend on the whims of a
man.”

“The first two
may be achievable,” the duchess said, dryly. “The third is highly
unlikely for any woman of any station. You expect my son to help
you to these goals, I take it.”