The Bargain of a Baroness

by Sande, Linda Rae

The sensations were so intense, she barely noticed Graham moving up her body, didn’t realize his hardened manhood was seeking her slick sheath, didn’t know quite what was happening until he was suddenly inside her, stretching her and filling her and leaving her and refilling her deeply with the same rhythm as the waves that were still cresting and crashing.

  “I have been dreaming of this for nearly two decades,” he murmured, as he briefly paused and hovered over her. His face contorted into a grimace as he climaxed, far sooner than he had planned.

  Hannah inhaled deeply in an attempt to catch her breath. “All you needed to do was ask,” she whispered when he slowly settled atop her, his head landing in the crook of her neck. “Had you stayed, we would have been lovers.”

  At hearing the words that reinforced what she had said when they were in the parlor, Graham froze. “I rather doubt I would have been allowed to bed you,” he whispered hoarsely. “The chance of scandal would have been too great.”

  Turning so she could see his face, Hannah sighed. “So much for you being my first and only love.”

  Graham lifted himself onto an elbow. “You’re quite serious?” He felt vulnerable. Too tired to move. Torn between relief at hearing her admission and regret at not having stayed in London.

  Wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, Hannah pulled his head back down to her shoulder. “Why didn’t you ask for my hand back then?” She heard his groan of defeat and felt his body relax. For a moment, she thought he had fallen asleep, so she was startled when his voiced sounded loud in her ear.

  “I had to make my fortune first.”

  “You thought you needed a fortune to make love to me?” she countered, struggling to keep annoyance from tingeing her voice.

  The bed vibrated with his chuckle. “I needed to make a fortune before I was going to marry you,” he replied. “And now that I’ve given it some thought, I believe I would have made love to you whenever you wished.”

  Turning onto her side, which forced Graham to reposition his body so he was entirely on the mattress and off of her, Hannah stared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  Graham’s look of hurt had her wishing she could take back her words. “I thought I did,” he murmured.

  At that moment, with the way the light illuminated his expression of regret, Hannah was struck by how much Graham looked like Edward. For years, she had thought Edward resembled Henry. How odd that a beam of light and regretful eyes could change her mind. “Our son is quite enamored with you,” she whispered, as if she was remembering something important. “I didn’t realize he was referring to you when he mentioned his new acquaintance during breakfast on Saturday. You made quite an impression on him.”

  Once again, the bed vibrated with his chuckle, and Hannah watched as a smile split Graham’s face.

  “What is it?” she asked. “Why are you smiling?” she queried as she allowed humor to inflect her words.

  “If he wasn’t already recognized as an heir to an earldom, I would gladly announce to the world that he is mine,” Graham said quietly. “Good head on those shoulders, he has. Probably got that from his mother, though.”

  His comment faded off as his body relaxed into the bed, and Hannah knew Graham had fallen asleep. His last words thrilled her, though.

  Perhaps there was hope for the two of them.

  There was that bargain she had made with him, after all.

  Chapter 37

  Bestowing Gifts of Love and Affection

  A few hours later, at 9 King Street

  The soft inhalation of breath had Laura turning from the cheval mirror in her bedchamber to discover Henry staring at her. She glanced at the clock, her eyes widening when she noted the time. Henry had just returned from the bank earlier than expected, but he had obviously paid a call at his parents’ townhouse, for he was already dressed in his evening clothes. Given the slim pasteboard box he held between his hands, it appeared he had also paid a call somewhere else.

  Laura recognized the style of box. She had seen her father give them to her mother for special occasions—and sometimes for no reason at all.

  All of them had contained jewelry.

  “Do you think this is acceptable?” she asked as she modeled the gown. “I just couldn’t abide wearing white,” she added as she indicated her ivory satin ballgown. Other than a satin ruffle around the neckline and a deep ruffle at the bottom, it was devoid of furbelows or other embellishments. A pair of ivory gloves covered her forearms and elbows.

  “You’re gorgeous,” Henry breathed, his mouth left open. “I rather doubt anyone will even notice what you’re wearing,” he added as he finally moved into the room. He offered her the box, and she gingerly took it.

  “Do you wish for me to open this now?”

  Henry nodded. “Of course. I know it’s… probably not proper for me to be doing this before our wedding day, but… I’m not getting any younger,” he stammered.

  Swallowing, Laura opened the pasteboard box and gasped. “Henry!” she exclaimed. “There must be a hundred pearls and sapphires in here.”

  He glanced over the string of pearls threaded with sapphires, the choker style necklace part of the parure included in the box. The jeweler hadn’t mentioned how many of the small ivory pearls and bright blue stones had been included in the necklace, bracelets, ring, ear bobs, and brooch. “I was thinking you might wear a couple of the pieces tonight. Maybe one of the bracelets and the ear bobs.” He reached out and plucked the ring from the center of the velvet-lined box. “And this.”

  “Oh, Henry,” Laura said on a sigh as he gripped her hand and slipped the ring over the satin glove. “It’s beautiful. And rather large.”

  “While I was at the bank this morning, I could think of nothing and no one but you. I suppose that means I’m falling in love with you.”

  “Since that moment you interrupted my painting, it has been the same for me,” Laura admitted.

  “Not before?” Henry managed to sound disappointed despite the quirked lip displaying his amusement.

  Laura gave him a quelling glance. “Mayhap in the park, whilst you were kissing me.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  “Of course. I already said I would.”

  “I don’t want there to be any doubt you are to be my wife.”

  For a moment, Laura wondered if he thought she was having second thoughts, but then his next words had her grinning.

  “Tonight was supposed to be your come-out, but I don’t want any of those widowers in the market for a wife thinking for one moment you are available.”

  “They won’t,” she assured him, her gaze still on the sapphire and pearl ring that decorated her fourth finger.

  “Oh, I think they might.”

  Laura blinked. “Why is that?”

  “I’ll have to allow you to dance with others,” he murmured, just before he wrapped the necklace around her neck, secured the clasp, and then kissed her. “My mother just reminded me that I’ll only be allowed two dances with you.”

  Giving him a mischievous grin, Laura asked, “Did you ask her to save two for you?”

  “I did, actually. Father was putting in his request with her for his two dances when he was interrupted by a caller, so I took my leave.” Henry lifted one of her wrists with one hand and draped one of the bracelets on it. He closed the clasp and twisted the strings of jewels until the clasp was beneath her wrist before he lowered his lips to the satin.

  “Is anything... amiss?” Laura asked, curious as to why Henry made mention of a caller.

  “Truth be told, I am not sure,” he replied, as he threaded one of the ear bobs through her ear piercing. “Either my father will end up gaining both a son and a daughter after this night, or he will have a daughter, a son, and a black eye.”

  “What?!”

  Henry finished applying the second ear bob before he stepped back and admired his future wife. “The sapphires bring out the blue in your eyes,” he murmured. “And the pearl
s glow against your skin.”

  Laura inhaled softly. She lifted a glove hand to the necklace, two fingers touching the pearls as she turned to see her reflection in the cheval mirror. “Oh, Henry. It’s beautiful. It’s all so elegant. Thank you.” She moved to stand before him and kissed him. “Now, why did you mention a black eye?”

  Henry stepped to the bed and sat on the edge of it, half tempted to ask her if they might skip that evening’s ball and simply repeat what they had done the night before.

  He had every intention of making love to Laura upon their return later that night, of staying with her the entire night so that they could once again wake up in one another’s arms. If he hadn’t accepted Lord Weatherstone’s invitation, he would have shut the door that very moment and allowed his lust—and his growing love for her—to get the better of him.

  Instead, he dipped his head and said, “Your cousin, Graham, is speaking with him now.”

  Laura showed her confusion as she angled her head. “Why do you think Graham will blacken your father’s eye?”

  Henry pulled Laura so she was forced to sit on his knee. “Despite knowing Graham’s feelings—and intentions—toward my sister back when she first made her come-out, my father gave his permission to Charlie Harrington when the young baron asked him for her hand.”

  “Did he not like Graham?” Laura asked.

  “Oh, he always liked him. But Graham wasn’t an aristocrat. He was always going to be a well-to-do tradesman, though, once he had worked for his father for a few years.”

  “And your father—”

  “A former butler—”

  “Wanted his daughter to be a baroness,” Laura whispered.

  “A countess, actually,” Henry said. “Hannah wanted to please him, of course, and although she would have preferred an offer from Graham—”

  “It would have been years before she was his wife.”

  “Exactly.”

  “She will be after this night,” Laura whispered, not making it a question. She remembered her cousin’s determination to marry Hannah. The baroness had made a bargain with him, and Graham was determined she honor it.

  Laura leaned her head down and kissed Henry’s forehead. “I am very glad we’ve been spying on one another these past few weeks,” she murmured.

  “Oh?” Henry replied, an arm wrapping around her waist to pull her closer. “And why is that?”

  “We’ve saved ourselves months, or... or weeks of courtship—”

  “Days, you mean,” Henry interrupted with a quirked lip. “Remember, I’m not getting any younger.”

  Laura glanced back at the clock on the mantel. “Speaking of the time, might we have enough of it to...?” Her words were cut off when Henry took her lips with his.

  He was determined to spend what time they had before the coach arrived kissing one another.

  Chapter 38

  Asking Permission Begets an Apology

  Meanwhile, at 5 Kingly Street

  Dressed in his evening clothes, James Simpson stood in his study with his head angled back and his chin aimed in Graham Wellingham’s direction. He lifted a finger to it and said, “It’s your right, son. Do your worst.”

  Graham backed up a step—they had just entered the study not a moment before—and said, “I’m not going to hit you, sir.”

  James furrowed a bushy brow. “Why ever not? I admit it. I am the reason Hannah married Harrington,” he claimed. “And I am very sorry.”

  “I know,” Graham replied with a shrug. “Lady Mayfield told me the whole sordid story last night.”

  His head jerking back, James regarded the younger man with a look of confusion. “Is it to be a duel then? Pistols at dawn?”

  Graham’s eyes widened in shock. “Of course not. I’m a terrible shot, and I rather think you are, too,” he replied. “Besides, Hannah would never forgive me if I shot you.” A grin touched his lips, and soon it had spread into a full smile. “I’ve merely come to ask you again for permission to make her my wife.”

  James visibly relaxed, his own expression turning to one of amusement. “Well, you already have it. I suggest you make good on it this time, and as soon as you can manage.”

  “Oh?” Graham replied, concern suddenly evident on his face. “Why do you say it like that?”

  Scoffing, James asked, “Do you have any idea how much money has been wagered on my daughter’s choice of a husband?”

  Graham’s eyes darted sideways. “No, but I rather doubt any of it’s been placed on me.”

  Clamping his mouth shut, James pretended innocence until Graham’s eyes rounded. “How much did you wager?”

  James gave a shrug. “Not as much as your son,” he whispered conspiratorially. “He obviously knew a sure bet when he saw it.”

  Staring at his future father-in-law with a look of shock, Graham finally gave a chuckle. “Well, then I suppose it would be good of me to fulfill my end of the bargain.” He paused a moment to shake his head. “He is a clever boy.”

  “Indeed,” James said. “Now off with you. My gorgeous wife is no doubt wondering why I’m not already in the vestibule,” he added as he waved to the door.

  “Yes, sir,” Graham said as he bowed. Before he passed over the threshold, he turned and said, “It’s not too late for you to add to your wager.”

  He disappeared beyond the door as James sounded a hearty laugh.

  Chapter 39

  A Night at the Ball

  Lord Weatherstone’s mansion, Park Lane, Mayfair

  On what the ton considered the second day of the Season of 1839, a line of town coaches converged on the location of the mansion that had hosted the first ball of the Season for more than a half-century.

  The gardens behind the house had hosted hundreds of first kisses, scandalous liaisons witnessed by the statue of Cupid, and any number of marriage proposals.

  Inside the house, several heirs had been conceived on the library’s long leather-covered sofa or in the alcoves carved out of the grand hall that led to the ballroom at the back of the house.

  Lord Weatherstone’s annual fête was already underway when the newer Simpson town coach pulled up carrying Lady and Mr. James Simpson. They stepped down and made their way to the front door as Sophia remarked on Henry’s whereabouts. “I rather expected he would ride with us,” she said with some worry.

  “He’ll be along shortly,” James said. “In the older town coach.”

  Suspicious—her husband’s behavior had bordered on the giddy ever since that morning’s sitting—Sophia asked, “What do you know?”

  James grinned and gave a shrug. “We’re about to find out,” he replied as he allowed a footman to take his greatcoat, hat, and cane. Sophia slipped out of her mantle as another footman saw to her, and then the two were in the receiving line. In the distance, Sophia could hear the announcer calling out names as guests appeared at the top of the stairs that led down to the ballroom floor.

  The next announcement had her exchanging a quick glance with her husband when the clear baritone called out, “Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Wellingham.”

  “I didn’t realize they would be here tonight,” Sophia said with some excitement.

  “Weatherstone is an investor in Wellingham Imports,” James explained. “He has been rather impressed by their ability to transport his tobacco from one of the colonies,” he added as he studied a pair of Greek statues in one of the alcoves.

  “Hannah should be here somewhere,” Sophia said as she glanced around. “I suppose there have already been bets placed as to how many suitors she will have this Season,” she remarked after they had greeted their hosts and were near the top of the stairs.

  “Probably,” James agreed. “My club’s betting book has the total at eight as of last night. But it won’t matter. Not after this ball.”

  Sophia blinked as she regarded her grinning husband with a look of shock. “I would have thought the number much higher,” she murmured.

  “That’s just the betting
book at my club, my sweet. It’s no doubt double that at White’s.”

  Her eyes wide at hearing his claim, Sophia gasped. As a result, she was unprepared when the announcer called out their names. James had them moving down the stairs, almost too fast for Sophia to keep up.

  “What’s the hurry?” she asked, as she angled her head toward him.

  “No hurry, my sweet,” he replied, his face breaking into a smile as several of Sophia’s family members as well as the Wellinghams converged on them with greetings near the base of the stairs. Their animated discussions nearly had them missing the announcement of the next couple.

  “The Lady Victoria Grandby and Mr. Thomas Grandby.”

  Sophia inhaled as she watched her grandson descend the steps with his bride, and she was forced to brush away a tear with a gloved hand. “Oh, she is a vision,” she murmured in awe.

  Victoria, garbed in a violet gown featuring a metallic threaded overskirt, looked every bit the duke’s daughter she was. Her regal bearing was matched by Tom, until he spotted the Simpsons. His face broke out into a huge grin, and the effect was lost.

  “This is a surprise,” he said as he took his grandmother’s hand in his and kissed the back of it while at the same time James performed the courtesy with Victoria.

  “We always say we’ll come—”

  “But this year there is a reason to,” Tom interrupted. “Uncle Henry didn’t tell a soul, it seems. You must be so happy. And I expect by now my aunt has agreed to her bargain.”

  Sophia blinked. “What ever are you talking about?”

  The announcer straightened and called out, “Mr. Henry Simpson and his betrothed, Miss Laura Overby.”

  A hush fell over their immediate party when Sophia and James turned to watch as their son made his way down the steps. His black evening clothes were highlighted by an ivory waistcoat trimmed in gold threads.

  Dressed in a simple gown of ivory satin with matching gloves, Laura clung to his arm, a pleasant expression pasted on her face. Her curly hair had been threaded with ivory ribbons, and under the gaslights of the chandeliers, it appeared as if it was made of gold. Pearls and sapphires decorated her neck and wrist.