His Lordship's Little Bride (Little History Series Book 4) Read online

  But Garrett had not been ashamed of his father; at school he’d known his share of lads who lived quiet double lives and never joined in the taunts against them. Nor did he worry that Lord Darmley’s secret would be exposed. Rupert Holloway was not just discreet, but an exceptionally firm disciplinarian who inspired both fear and respect in the other servants. Among the Darmley staff, fear of dismissal ran second to fear of Holloway’s penchant for physical correction, and here was where Garrett had found a mentor in his father’s paramour. When Garrett had reached adulthood, Holloway had allowed the future master of Darmley Hall to secretly observe his correction of several lax or gossiping maids. Garrett knew he would never be fulfilled until he had a wife of his own to properly school in such a fashion.

  “Ah, there you are, my boy!” Winston Darmley stood from where he’d been reading a newspaper. Rupert Holloway stepped forward to take the paper as father ushered son to his chair.

  The older man fixed the younger with a thoughtful gaze for a moment before starting to speak.

  “I won’t mince words, Garrett,” he said. “I know you are in the confidences of our own trusted Mr. Holloway. And I know through him that your reticence to marry stems from your rather—shall we say—unique requirements in a potential wife. I also know that as a member of this family, you are likely aware that you are not alone in being outside the norm, and that it can be a very lonely thing to live and love under society’s expectations, rather than your own. I feel fortunate to have found in your mother a woman who knew that I was different. She recognized it because she is different, too. We both have appetites outside conventional bounds, and we have forged an arrangement that makes us both happy, even if what we present to the outside world is an illusion.” He paused here, obviously gauging Garrett’s reaction. When Garrett nodded for him to continue, the older man went on. “We would have the same happiness for you, Garrett, which is why Mr. Holloway here has been quietly pursuing information concerning a particular prominent family whose misfortune may be to your benefit.”

  Garrett furrowed his brow. “Holloway?” he asked, glancing at the servant. “No offense, but what information would a prominent family give a member of serving staff—even a respected head of household?”

  When the earl nodded toward his trusted servant, Holloway stepped forward.

  “You’re quite correct, your lordship,” he said. “It would be unseemly of a member of the aristocracy to confide in a man of my occupation.” He smiled as he continued. “However, servants are wont to gossip—at least in houses with less order than this one—and I have received intelligence that Lady Amelia Chesterfield has become involved in a scandal so shocking that the breath of it could ruin her entire family.”

  Upon hearing the name, Garrett scanned his memory until he recalled the girl he’d seen at a ball around Christmas a few years before—a girl with long dark hair, green eyes, and delicate features. It occurred to him now that she’d be well past age for being out in society, and yet he’d not seen her. There had to be a reason.

  Holloway confirmed why. Amelia, he told Garrett, had proved incorrigible and headstrong, causing her parents to frequently send her to spend time with relatives. Upon her recent return home from London, she’d launched a new rebellion, this time against a favored union between her and Hamish Foxcroft. As Garrett listened to the sordid story of Amelia Chesterfield’s scandalous behavior, he had to admit feeling a bit of sympathy for her. While Hamish Foxcroft carried the impressive rank of duke, his appeal ended with his title. He was renowned for his hypochondria, and avoided at social gatherings by those uninterested in hearing about his latest bowel problems or the quality of his sputum.

  But in her zeal to escape an unsavory union, Amelia had decided to not only make herself unsuitable, but to risk her family’s reputation in the process. She’d bedded a randy young gardener named Royce in her parents’ own bed; when her mother and sisters happened upon the scene, their screams summoned several servants who also witnessed the indiscretion, and news of the scandal spread through the house like wildfire.

  Lord and Lady Chesterfield were beside themselves. If news extended beyond the walls of their home, not only would Amelia be ruined, but her sisters by association. The prospect of caring for four spinster daughters did not sit well with their parents.

  “So it’s common knowledge then?” Garrett asked.

  “No,” his father interjected. “Not yet. A certain Chesterfield footman applying for a position here hoped to curry favor with Holloway by offering this bit of gossip. A bit of digging confirmed it, but our knowing it is enough. One word of confirmation and condemnation from this house would ruin theirs. The Chesterfields are titled, but their finances are strained. I have offered Lord Chesterfield something of a solution.”

  Garrett already knew where his father was heading, and smiled.

  “Yes,” the earl said. “If you will have Amelia, she will be betrothed to you. However, it is with the understanding that her behavior makes her unsuitable to assume most social responsibilities as Lady Darmley. She will be ‘lady’ in title only. Excuses will be made for why her public activities may be kept to a minimum.”

  “In short,” Mr. Holloway said, “she will live by your leave. She will be yours to keep and to cherish and—if you wish—to train as you see fit. It will not matter that her upbringing will have prepared her for a conventional marriage. She will have no other recourse than to settle into one modeled after your desires.”

  “Are her parents aware that she will enter an unconventional union with me, father?” Garrett asked.

  Lord Darmley shook his head. “No,” he replied. “In fact, Amelia’s mother knows nothing of the bargain I’ve struck with her father. I believe the fewer who know at this point, the better. But I hardly expect her to care. With Amelia married off to you, the reputation of her family will be spared. The staff of Chesterfield Manor has now been sufficiently quieted on pain of dismissal or worse. Amelia’s father will receive a decent sum for her hand, and once she is married, the Chesterfields can hold their heads high as they seek husbands for their remaining daughters.”

  Garrett sat back in his chair, thoughtfully rubbing his square jaw.

  “Did I not remember her as being so incredibly fair, I’d be resistant of the two of you taking my personal affairs into your own hands,” he said. “But in truth, I can find no flaw in this plan. Her virginity holds less appeal for me than her trainability. If she is as rebellious as she sounds, then I believe she will hold my interest.”

  “If you don’t mind my saying, sir, I believe it will not be without its challenges,” Mr. Holloway said. “She is, by all accounts, a most fractious young woman. If I may suggest an addition to the staff, a governess should be sought immediately—a robust one who can handle the demands of caring for an adult child.”

  “Of course,” Garrett said. “A strong maternal influence can’t be discounted. Do you have someone in mind?”

  “Indeed I do.” Holloway quirked an eyebrow. “If she’s available, the governess I’d like to hire is most fearsome, and quite handsome for an older woman, if I may be so bold in my observation. She’s currently employed by another family, but I believe she can be lured away.”

  “Then lure her,” Garrett’s father said. “She sounds as if she’d be an asset in every way.” He turned to his son then. “So, are you ready to pay a call to the Chesterfield Manor? I believe they will be more than eager to receive us.”

  “Quite so,” Garrett said, rising from his chair. “Quite so. I’d say a week would give us time to put things in order. Then I’ll go fetch my bride.”

  Chapter Three: Best Laid Plans

  “You surely must have a heart of stone, Amelia, to see your sisters so distraught and feel no shame.” Catherine Chesterfield dabbed her red-rimmed eyes with a kerchief before looking over at where her eldest daughter sat. “And to say nothing of your mother. Do you have any idea what this has done to me? Do you realize what a bitter d
isappointment you are to me and your father?”

  “It’s hardly a mystery, mama. You’ve spoken of nothing else since I can remember.” The answer was delivered in a deliberate fashion designed to maximize maternal distress, and it had the desired effect. Lady Chesterfield dissolved into a fresh round of tears, but her daughter felt nothing but irritation.

  It was, Amelia Chesterfield decided, her mother’s own doing. It was her mother, after all, who’d simply assumed that she would meekly allow herself to be shipped off to the dreary Foxcroft Hall, where she’d spend the rest of her life withering away with a husband who’d prefer the sickbed to the marriage bed. Her objections had been met with speeches on the importance of duty—duty to her family’s reputation and social standing, duty to her sisters who relied on the Foxcroft connection to position them for equally advantageous matches. Not once had anyone given a thought to her happiness. It was a lady’s lot, they said, to obediently agree to a beneficial union. It had all been planned, they said.

  “Do you realize that Hamish’s mother has sent two letters expressing her distress at your failing to receive her son?” Lady Chesterfield loudly blew her nose in a most unladylike honk before continuing. “They’ll be demanding an answer soon. We’ll have to tell them you cannot marry, for how can we risk your marrying into the family with the threat of exposure looming! It will ruin them and us! But, oh, what answer will we give?”

  “You could always try the truth, mama,” Amelia said sweetly. “You could tell Hamish’s mother that I spread my legs for a real man to save myself from enduring the cold fumblings of her sickly son.”

  Lady Chesterfield’s expression went from distress to cold anger as she stood and glared down at her daughter.

  “You think it’s funny, do you? Selfish girl! If you were going to throw your virginity away to escape a marriage, could it at least been to some lower ranking member of the gentry we could have persuaded to marry you? At least then there would have been a modicum of respectability!”

  Amelia smirked. “Mother, I seem to remember fancying two young men upon entering society. As I recall, you told me to put all thoughts of them out of my head, as they weren’t good enough. It mattered not that I liked them. The truth is that you already had decided to marry me off to a man of your choosing, not mine.”

  She stood and walked to the fire, telling herself she’d not be further drawn into an argument with her mother, who had resumed crying.

  The door to the parlor opened behind her, but Amelia did not look, suspecting it was one or all her sisters come to loudly commiserate with their mother. But it was only the butler, Mr. Stiles.

  “Madam,” he said. “So sorry to disturb, but we have visitors, and Lord Chesterfield is requesting you and Amelia come at once.”

  Lady Chesterfield stood, her hand fluttering at her breast. “Oh, no. Oh, no… is it the Foxcrofts? I have no answer for them! I’m not ready! You must send them away, Stiles! You must…”

  “Madam, it is not the Foxcrofts,” he said. “It is Lord Winston Darmley, earl of Stonehurst and his son, Lord Garrett Darmley.”

  The fluttering hand fell from the ample bosom. The butler now had not just Lady Chesterfield’s attention, but that of her daughter as well.

  “The Darmleys?” Amelia said, furrowing her brow. “Why on earth would they be here? And why would I need to be in attendance?”

  “It’s likely that word of what you’ve done has gotten out, and now they’ve come to condemn us!” Lady Chesterfield said, beginning to pace the room. “Darmley owns half the region. He’s probably come to end all association with your father.”

  “Then you should go downstairs, mama,” Amelia said coldly. “Papa will likely need your support.”

  “You’ve been summoned, too,” Lady Chesterfield hissed, “and you will accompany me if I have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

  Amelia glared. “Then do so,” she said. “I’m sure it can’t hurt your reputation more to be seen dragging your whore of a daughter all the way down the stairs so that she can face her shame.”

  “You… you… insufferable…” The red-faced matron snatched up her skirts and turned away. Amelia held her ground, glaring at the disapproving expression of the longtime butler who shook his head as he turned to follow her mother from the room.

  “Good,” Amelia said to herself, relieved to be left alone. While her upbringing dictated that she should feel shame for her behavior, Amelia wasn’t one to follow dictates. She’d always been a headstrong young woman determined to follow her own path. Unfortunately, she realized she didn’t know what that path was.

  She walked to the window and looked out. The sky was slate grey on this late October day. In the fields beyond the house, two horses frolicked, excited by the chilly breeze. She thought of the gardener she’d bedded. No doubt the lad had been both savagely threatened and handsomely paid for his silence upon dismissal, and in retrospect, she realized she was lucky that her tryst had not resulted in a pregnancy that would have surely complicated her life.

  The act of sex itself had been wholly unsatisfying. She’d not felt the pleasure she’d expected, and decided that this was yet another lie that married women told unmarried ones to entice them to wed.

  She wondered what would happen to her now that she was unfit to wed. Would her parents begrudgingly keep her at home? She did not care, for she liked her life as it was. She was often at her leisure, had delightful hobbies to pursue, and summered with relatives near London. There were worse ways to grow old.

  It mattered not, really, at least not today. Selecting a book from the shelf, Amelia settled into her chair, satisfied now that her mother was not returning to insist she greet the Darmleys. She wondered if Garrett Darmley was as handsome as she remembered. He’d been dashing enough when she’d seen him a few winters earlier, although a bit too severe for her tastes.

  An hour later, the sound of voices got her attention and she went to the window to see the village doctor’s buggy pull up by the Darmleys’ fine coach. She was seized by a sudden concern; had her mother taken ill from stress? Amelia hurried to her door and opened it a crack. After a few moments she heard her mother’s voice, its tone high and conversational, and knew she was all right. Sighing, she shut the door. It was likely for one of her sisters, complaining of one ailment or another in their ongoing bid for attention.

  Amelia had just settled back down with her book when she heard a knock at the door.

  “Go away,” she said, guessing at the interruption. “I’m not coming downstairs.”

  Amelia slammed her book shut as the door opened, ready to berate the intruder, but her voice died away as she beheld the man who stepped into her room. Garrett Darmley was even more handsome than she’d remembered. He was elegant, too, with his finely cut long coat, doeskin breeches, and perfectly tied cravat. But the expression on his handsome face was no friendlier than she remembered.

  “Young miss,” he said. “Did your mother not tell you that guests were waiting?”

  Amelia stood, affecting a haughty stance.

  “I can’t see why it’s any matter to a man so rude as to enter a lady’s private quarters uninvited.”

  “A lady?” Garrett Darmley looked around, as if expecting to see someone else before his eyes settled back on Amelia. “I see no lady here. I do see a rebellious little girl who believes she can do as she pleases.”

  Amelia felt her cheeks flame. So far, aside from her family, she’d spoken to no one about her actions. But she was determined not to let this man lecture her.

  “And so the great Lord Darmley has decided to come revel in my disgrace, has he?” Amelia smirked as she tilted her chin defiantly and crossed her arms.

  “No,” he said quietly. “Not revel in it, but save you from it.”

  She felt a sudden sense of unease. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Even if you felt justified in implementing a risky ploy to avoid marrying Foxcroft, your actions were rash—not just to your f
amily but to yourself. Fortunately for all of you, I have the means to erase all traces of this scandal. However, you will pay a price. Yours were the actions of a child, young lady, and so a child you shall be. Today you leave your home and will enter mine, for I am in need of a less than conventional wife. The potential scandal makes you the perfect choice. I will wed you. You will become Lady Darmley, although you will not publicly enjoy the benefits of your station, at least not until you can prove yourself capable. You will be my wife, but will live as my ward. Your place, until I decide otherwise, will be in a nursery, where you will be subject to constant supervision and training at my hand.”

  Amelia opened her mouth to reply. But nothing came out as she struggled to process the words of a man she’d last set eyes on three years earlier when she’d been but fifteen.

  Wife? Ward? Was he mad?

  “Is this some sort of joke?” She’d finally found her voice. “Or some sort of trick you’re playing—you’re all playing—to make sport of me or prove a point?”

  But Lord Darmley was not laughing. “Let me assure you that not only am I rarely given to humor, but I have never been more serious. It’s all been arranged with your parents, who are more than happy with my offer.”

  “Then let me hear it from them!” Amelia cried, backing away. The man before her was no wan Hamish Foxcroft, but the very opposite. He was strong, determined. Virile. And she realized the marriage he described was more terrifying even than what she’d have endured with Hamish. At least as Lady Foxcroft she’d have been free to run her own household. She could not believe what he was saying. Did he really plan to keep her as a child? She would not until she heard it from her own parents.