A Baron for Becky (6 page)

Mrs Darling and
Anne had disappeared up to the nursery immediately after dinner
last night, and all day today Aldridge had been unable to snatch
more than brief moments with her, though he made full use of every
encounter to try to regain the ground he lost the previous
evening.

He’d
complimented her gown, carried the basket for the flowers she was
cutting, suggested several scandalous ways to further enjoy the
garden, squeezed her hand, and even managed to divert her into a
curtained alcove for another searing kiss that melted her, and had
precisely the opposite effect on him. From the sparkle in her eyes
and the sway of her hips as she walked off, she appreciated his
efforts. But walk off she did.

At first, he
had been confident he would win this battle of wills with Mrs
Darling. Then his cousin’s wife had called him aside and told him
she intended to offer Mrs Darling a job in the village. What a
waste! Surely, Mrs Darling would prefer to be his mistress rather
than a serving woman?

He hoped so. He
was so hard he could hammer nails, and his bollocks ached.

By dinner time,
he had made progress, if not as much as he’d hoped.

He’d seduced
virtuous wives more quickly than this courtesan. He briefly
considered accepting the clear invitation one of the maids had been
transmitting, but Rede would frown on it, especially since—from the
look of her—she was some sort of relative from the wrong side of
the blanket. One could never tell when in the stomping ground of
the three previous Earls of Chirbury.

In any case, he
didn’t want another woman. He wanted The Rose of Frampton. He
sighed. It had been a long time since he’d required an intimate
acquaintance with Mrs Palmer and her five agile daughters.

She was worth
waiting for. She was clever; the conversation last night showed
that. And there was the music. Clearly, she was both educated and
cultured. A fallen daughter of the gentry, undoubtedly. He could
certainly do better for her, be better for her, than the
provincials who had kept her until now.

So, she wanted
a contract, did she? Wise woman. He doubted if the local solicitors
had much experience in drafting such things. The current earl was
boringly uxorious, and previous earls had been more in favour of
droit de seigneur
than contracts with the
demi-monde
.
Still, he’d signed several in the past few years and could, no
doubt, draft something that would stand up in court.

Yes. A
contract. He’d never offered more than a six-month contract, with
mutual right to renew. In bed, he found women largely
interchangeable, and outside of bed, he was quickly bored. But
Rose, he thought, might amuse him for longer than six months.
Perhaps even a year.

That evening,
after dinner, Mrs Darling partnered Anne against Aldridge and Rede
for cards, and the ladies won. Then Rede and Anne faced him and Mrs
Darling, and Mrs Darling led her team to victory again. “What other
talents have you, I wonder?” he murmured in her ear in a private
moment, while Anne was supervising the tea trolley, and Rede had
been called out of the room. She smiled at him, her eyes still full
of the triumph of the game, but her gaze faltered when he added, “I
look forward to demonstrating my own talents, which are not—I
fancy—entirely unheralded.”

And he skated
one finger in a feather-light touch across her bare arm, from elbow
to shoulder.

She had her
revenge a few moments later, leaning her breast on his shoulder as
she passed him a cup of tea. A small incline of the head, and he
would be resting his cheek on that smooth flesh. Rede was watching
them, though, so he contented himself with saying, quietly, “A dish
very much to my taste, Mrs Darling.”

He had to shift
though, to ease the strain in his breeches. She cheekily dropped a
judicious napkin over his tented fall, and said, her eyes laughing,
“In case of spills, my lord.”

Witch. She let
her thigh brush his as she walked away. He hadn’t spilled without
intention since he was a boy, and he wasn’t about to start now.
Mind you, he hadn’t been without a woman for more than a week,
either, apart from his eighteen-month exile some years back at one
of his father’s remote properties.

All these
fleeting touches, suggestive comments, stolen kisses—he could only
hope this seduction was working on her as well as it was working on
him.

Mrs Darling and
Anne began discussing books. The object of his interest was, it
seemed, a member of a circulating library in Bristol, and disliked
The Family Shakespeare
, which Anne had just purchased for
the nursery library.

“But surely,
Mrs Darling, you cannot object to removing words and expressions
that should not be read aloud to gentle ears?” Anne argued.

“I make no
complaint about the reader using some discretion, my lady.” Mrs
Darling said. “But if we can allow such vandalism of our literary
treasures, what is next? Shall we let him loose on the Bible? You
cannot deny there is much within that is indecorous.”

Anne laughed in
agreement. “But still, a noble intent, do you not think?”

“I prefer the
retellings in
Tales from Shakespeare
, my lady. Mr and Miss
Lamb make no attempt to keep to the original words, but just retell
the stories. It is very good fare for the schoolroom, I think.
Then, when our girls are old enough, let them hear the true poetry
in Shakespeare’s own words. And all of his own words, for the
Bowdler volumes not only cut passages, but whole plays!”

Perhaps a
two-year contract? He couldn’t imagine being bored with her in less
than two years.

Chapter Four

The entire next day,
Rede and Anne must have been conspiring to keep them apart. Anne
took Mrs Darling to the village in the morning. Since she wasn’t
about, Aldridge accepted Rede’s invitation to go riding after he’d
dealt with the day’s mail, and regretted it when the two men on
horseback passed the carriage returning through the gate.

He and Mrs
Darling met over lunch in the company of the Chirburys, and he
found her alone four times during the afternoon, only to have Rede,
Anne, or both enter before they could exchange more than one or two
moves in their game.

Had he ever
desired a woman this much? Perhaps it was the chase; mostly, they
fell into his bed with little effort. Or they didn’t, and he looked
elsewhere. And she wanted him, too. She might manufacture the
shiver of desire when he breathed on her ear, the way she moulded
herself to him when they managed a stolen kiss. But the flush of
colour on that perfect skin? That was genuine. And he saw no
artifice, no calculation, in the lovely eyes.

When Aldridge
joined Rede for a drink after dinner, he asked, “Rede, are you and
Anne deliberately trying to stop me from talking to Mrs
Darling?”

Rede laughed.
“Whatever makes you think that, cousin?”

“Please desist?
I promised I wouldn’t bed her under your roof, but I am trying to
negotiate a contract. And it is damned difficult when I can’t even
talk to the lady.”

“Why not leave
it till you get to London?”

“First,”
Aldridge explained, “Mrs Darling has no place to live in London,
nor the money to rent anything, until I have the right to provide
for her. Second, I am not letting those wolves in London get a
glimpse of her until she is under my protection.”

“Anne thinks I
should protect her from you. She wants to find her a job here in
Longford. Or, at the very least, she wants me to ensure you give
the woman a fair contract.”

“I don’t mind a
contract. A contract is a good idea. But a job? A jewel like that?
She’s a courtesan, Rede. It’s not as if I’m seducing a virgin.”

Rede grinned
and slid the port along the table. “Pour yourself another,
Aldridge. Mrs Darling has the right to make her own choices. I’ve
told Anne that Mrs Darling can stay in Longford if that is what the
lady wants, but I won’t stand in your way, either.”

“Then please
stop trying to keep us apart.”

“Very well,
cousin,” Rede agreed, and conceded, “I’ll take Anne out visiting
tomorrow with the girls and leave you with Mrs Darling. Good
enough? But I will tell her if she wants advice on the contract, I
am happy to be at her service.”

Aldridge went
to find Mrs Darling, but she had already retired for the night.

Rose bundled
Sarah well against the cold, blustery day before sending the girl
off to the market in Chipping Niddwick with the earl and his
family, hopping up and down and chattering like a starling. When
Rose turned back to the house, after waving farewell, Aldridge was
waiting.

“Mrs Darling,
I’ve asked the housekeeper to set out tea in the library. Will you
join me?”

She brushed
against him as she moved through the doorway, which clearly set him
off-balance, but she gained no advantage because it affected her as
much. They had to end this negotiation soon. It was killing
her.

Last night,
Lady Chirbury had followed her to her room and offered to help her
find ‘honest work.’ She could be a seamstress or serve in a shop,
and Lord Chirbury would lease her and Sarah a cottage at favourable
terms. “I would suggest teaching, Mrs Darling, since you are
obviously well educated, but if your past were to come out... The
Longford villagers are good people, but they can be very hard on
those they don’t understand.”

Rose’s sewing
was mediocre, and neither occupation would earn her more than a
pittance. “Forgive me,” she told Anne. “I need to make more than
that, if I am to give Sarah a chance at a better life than mine...”
She could not meet Lady Chirbury’s eyes, fearing the scorn and
rejection. But the countess surprised her. “I understand better
than you might think, Mrs Darling. Make sure he gives you a
favourable contract, then. My husband will read it for you, if you
wish.”

In the library,
several closely-written pages were lying on a table under the
window. “You suggested a contract, Mrs Darling,” he said. “Here is
a start. Everything is negotiable. I want you to be happy.” He
looked nervous. Did he really think she had a choice?

She took the
chair in front of the table and began reading.

Two years? He
wanted
two years
? An upfront payment, hers to keep plus an
allowance. Was two hundred and fifty guineas a quarter low? But
wait; he would pay all her costs: the wages for servants, unlimited
accounts at the grocer, the butcher, and the candlemaker, as well
as her choice of milliner,
modiste
, bootmaker, and any other
makers of clothing and adornments.

Dear Heavens.
Her eyes must be out on stalks!