The Bargain Bride (16 page)

Whenever they stopped, they all had separate rooms, as Penny demanded and West approved, which made her madder still. Her maid slept in hers. George slept in his.

When they reached London, West rode ahead again, to warn his household. He'd sent messages to the Parkers, who acted as butler and housekeeper of the family pile, advising them he was bringing guests. The small staff should do what they could, he advised, before the party reached Town.

He pulled up at Westmoreland House on Prospect Street. At least he thought he was at Westmoreland House. He checked the familiar buildings on either side, to make sure. This was his house, all right, but now the windows sparkled, the brass rails gleamed, and the bricks were free of London's soot and grime. He handed his horse over to a groom who materialized out of nowhere—surely not out of West's payroll—and went inside. If Parker himself was not beside the door, West would have thought he had the wrong address indeed. The entry hall had been painted a sickly yellow color, but the parquet floors were freshly waxed, under a bright and brand-new Aubusson carpet that looked as if it cost more than his last racing curricle. A spindle-legged table he'd never seen held a huge naked statue of some gilded Greek goddess with an unlikely bouquet of silk flowers and stuffed birds in her hand. Over the statue hung several portraits, and heaven knew he'd never seen those people before, either. Even Parker, who had been with the family since before West was born, was a new man in powdered wig and spotless coat. Before West had set out north, the old butler's black coat was as faded gray as his hair.

Before West could ask questions about what other changes had been made, by what magic genie, the first of the baggage carriages from Yorkshire arrived. Bemused, West went back outside to hand Penny out of the coach.

“Why, your house is lovely,” she said, surprised after hearing of its disrepair.

“It is, isn't it?” he replied, equally as surprised.

He led her up the stairs and then stopped. “Should I carry you across the threshold of your new residence?”

Penny recalled the last time he had carried her, in a fevered rush. Perhaps he'd keep going now, to the bed-chambers, and they could start anew, in a new place. She could feel her cheeks grow warm at the very idea. Then she recalled that he might have spent his recent nights in the arms of some willing serving wench, for all she knew. “That will not be necessary.”

West ignored the ice in her voice. “It is supposed to be good luck, I always heard.” He turned and slid his hands beneath her knees and across her back. Penny shrieked and threw her arms around his neck for balance, and West laughed as they swept into the front hall.

When he set her down, the skirts of her green traveling costume were all twisted, her turquoise bonnet—the one West had given her—was hanging by its ribbons down her back, her hair was coming undone, and she was laughing, too. Here was her new life, willy-nilly, in a viscount's arms, and it felt good.

West thought he'd never seen a prettier sight, so he kissed her, right there in the doorway of his home. Their home. That sounded good, too.

“I say, bro,” came a drawling voice from one side of the double stairs, “you might wait until you are upstairs, you know.”

Penny looked up to see a tailor's dream making its way downstairs. A young gentleman of about twenty years was wearing wide yellow Cossack trousers, a spotted Belcher kerchief instead of a proper neckcloth, a waistcoat glittering with gold and silver stripes. He had West's dark coloring, but nowhere the breadth of shoulder or the finely chiseled cheekbones and jaw. He did have red shoes.

“Grandpapa is going to love him,” Penny whispered in West's ear.

West gave a long-suffering sigh. “As you have probably guessed, my dear, this pink of the
ton
is my brother, the generally Honorable Nicholas Westmoreland. Nicky, come make your bows.”

“I say, with pleasure.” The Tulip pulled a quizzing glass on a ribbon from his pocket and held it up, inspecting Penny. “I knew you were too downy a bird to let Gold Pockets foist his old-maid daughter on you. But you've done even better, bringing home a bit of fluff that will be the envy of London. I don't suppose you'd put in a word with Lady Greenlea for me now that you've moved on, would you?” He swung the quizzing glass in the air in circles. “No, I could never afford a dasher like her. Which reminds me, bro, about my allowance—”

Penny had gone rigid again. West cleared his throat. “Nicky, may I present my bride, the former Miss Persephone Goldwaite.”

Nicky dropped his quizzing glass, and his jaw. “Never say so! Why, you lucky dog.” Then he bowed. “And my apologies, Miss—ah, Lady Westfield.” He held out his hand, to take hers to kiss.

Penny could see a garnet ring like the one West wore. She kept her own hand by her side. “That is Lady Gold Pockets to you, sir.”

West laughed. “I must warn you, Nicky, the lady does not forget an insult. And she has a punishing right, so mind your manners.”

“No insult intended, to be sure.”

Penny was not quite as sure. The fop appeared to be a typical London swell, to whom anyone without a title was a nobody.

West was going on: “Besides, if she does not hit you, I will. So go make yourself useful and help unload the coaches.”

“What, when we have a score of footmen standing around for just that?”

“We had the Parkers' two nephews and a couple of day maids when I left.”

Nicky shrugged. “These chaps just appeared, along with the painters and carpenters and cabinetmakers.”

West could see the evidence of the workmen. “And you never asked what they were doing here?”

Nicky shrugged again. “I thought they had the wrong address. I wasn't about to tell them, was I, and have them take everything back? Besides, you told Parker to get the old place ready for guests. I figured he knew what you were about.”

West would look into that later. For now he had to play host. “Well, then help Parker show Penny's grandfather to his room. You did give Mr. Littleton the south suite, didn't you, Parker, the one with the sitting room overlooking the garden?” When the butler nodded, West told Penny, “There is plenty of light, and a bare floor no one needs to worry about staining.”

His brother shook his head. “It ain't bare anymore. None of the rooms are.”

“Well, no one will be painting today anyway.” He turned to Penny. “I will show you around myself.” Before he led her into the front parlor, he bent down and picked up George. “Here, Nicky, meet your new roommate. He snores and he swoons. But do not worry. All you have to do is breathe in his mouth to revive him.”

Nicky started to argue.

“You mentioned your allowance?”

Nicky held his arms out. “Nice doggy.”

West and Penny toured the house, forgetting their differences as they marveled at the new furniture that filled the rooms to overflowing, colors clashing, in higgledy-piggledy styles. “I never thought I would miss the faded old chairs. Even the dustcovers were better than some of this.”

Parker announced a caller before they went to inspect the kitchens.

“No need to announce me. I'm family,” Sir Gaspar said as he strolled into what used to be West's book room. “Nice, eh?”

“You did all this?” West waved his hand around, encompassing the statues, the chintz-covered chairs, the cabbage roses on the wallpaper, the animal heads mounted on the paneling.

“Me and Lady Goldwaite, of course. Constance does love to decorate. I said I would freshen up the place, didn't I?”

“No, Father,” Penny said, “you offered to pay for it.”

Sir Gaspar pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. “Same thing. Didn't want you coming home to such a shabby place. Besides, the sooner this house is ready, the sooner you can start entertaining. The Season's started and the gals have hardly been seen by any of the right people.”

Penny's head was spinning. “I cannot think about Lady Goldwaite's daughters now.”

Her father frowned. “They are your stepsisters.”

“Yes, but we have just arrived.”

“Of course you have. I got the message, didn't I? That's why I am here instead of at the bank. You are expected for dinner tonight. We figured that the cook you brought with you won't have time to make up a meal. The gals want to see you again.” He eyed her rumpled traveling gown with disdain. “They have all the latest fashion journals. And Constance is anxious to discuss plans. Lady Spincroft's ball is next week. And you'll want to seek vouchers for Almack's before too much time is past. You'll need to pick a date for your own first ball before the social calendar is full, to let the gals make their bows here.”

“But we are not even unpacked,” she insisted.

“You have servants for that, my girl. You are a lady.”

Penny started to tap her foot, but West accepted the dinner invitation, for the following day.

Sir Gaspar had to be content with that. Then he had to leave, to inform his own household. Before he left, West had a few questions about the new staff. “Would you mind waiting a moment, sir?”

West told Parker to gather all the servants, all the new ones. He told Penny she should go rest, or unpack, but she stayed, her lips pursed and her brows knotted.

When the servants were lined up, three-deep, in the hall, West asked who paid their salaries.

Sir Gaspar grinned. “I do, of course.” The men in their immaculate livery all nodded.

“And which one of you sent Sir Gaspar the message that we had arrived?”

“That would be Freese,” one of the older men answered, and a fit-looking footman stepped forward, smiling, envisioning a handsome reward.

“Then you are the first to leave, Freese. You see, this is my house, not Sir Gaspar's. I will not employ anyone who is not loyal to me alone, putting my and my lady's comfort and welfare ahead of anyone else's. I am afraid I cannot afford so many in staff, either, nor pay as much as Sir Gaspar obviously has. I suggest you all seek employment with him, since he hired you.” He spoke to Sir Gaspar: “You may use the carriages and wagons outside, sir, to carry your new servants.”

Sir Gaspar looked to Penny. “Come, now, my girl, tell your husband you need these fellows to add to your consequence. Can't let a man's foolish pride keep you from your rightful due.”

“No, Father, I will tell Lord Westfield no such thing. You have meddled for the last time.”

The servants shuffled their feet, waiting to see whether they would stay or go.

“I only meant well, poppet.”

“No, you mean to continue to manage my life and Lord Westfield's. We will not tolerate it. Not to decorate our home or put spies in our midst or organize our social calendars or criticize our wardrobes. Is that plain?”

West clapped, which drew Penny's attention to him. He stepped back a pace when he saw that her fists were clenched.

“And as for you, my lord, you are almost as bad.”

If the fists and the frown didn't give him pause, the use of his title made Penny's displeasure obvious. West said he was sorry. “But I simply do not have the kind of money your father does to keep an army on my payroll.”

“Money has nothing to do with this, nor the number of servants. No, you said I was to have the running of our household. We have not been here an hour and you are riding roughshod over my wishes, accepting dinner engagements without consulting me, dismissing servants without asking if I require them.”

“I honestly thought you would have the refurbishing of Westmoreland House, and you cannot blame me if someone else did the work. I suppose I should have asked before accepting your father's invitation, but he is your father. I thought you would be pleased. As for the servants, do you truly wish to keep on retainers with divided loyalties?”

Penny raised her chin. “No, but I wished to be the one to dismiss them.”

Sir Gaspar slapped his thigh. “Damn if you ain't acting the lady already. I knew you'd make a proper viscountess.”

They both glared at him.

The footmen left.

—By Arrangement,
a chronicle of arranged marriages, by G. E. Felber

 

 

 

N
icky was upset to be carrying luggage after all, alongside the Parker nephews and his brother. His puce coat was becoming wrinkled. “I do not see why we cannot keep on some of the new servants. Certes, it was a nicer style of life for the last few days. And what is the point of wedding an heiress if you cannot enjoy the benefits?”

West was not seeing much benefit right now, nor much enjoyment. He simply grunted under his end of a large trunk.

“I don't think your wife likes me.”

West didn't think she liked either of them, which was nothing he was willing to discuss with his little brother. “She is just sensitive about being wed to a rake for her father's money. And for not being a member of the
ton
.” And for being neglected all those years, while he enjoyed other women, he thought, but did not say aloud. “You must give her time,” which was something else he'd been saying to himself for a sennight now.

“I do not mind giving her time, but sweat?” Nicky set his end of the trunk down, then dabbed at his face with a lace-edged handkerchief. “At least her relations like me. Mr. Littleton has offered to paint my portrait.”