Big Bad Fake Groom: A Billionaire's Virgin Romance

by Tia Siren

  So that's it. That is what the letter was about. He'd won the estate in a card game, felt guilty about it and decided to give it back, except, he never sent the letter. ''As you may or may not know,'' he paused when Roberts arrived with the tea. He smiled at Victoria as he poured her drink into a cup and saucer of the finest quality. ''Sorry, as you may know, my father also passed away recently. I have taken over the running of the estates we own, and I too found out that the estate was won by my father in a card game. Quite extraordinary.'' He shook his head and smiled. ''You introduced yourself as Lambert.''

  ''Yes, I have always thought our family name to be Lambert, but it now appears that it is Landsborough, and we were wealthy landowners until my father's foolish behavior. Mr. Jones, the eldest of the lawyers in town, told me the story. My poor father had a terrible gambling affliction.''

  ''Where do you live now?''

  ''In a village, fifty miles away called Ashworthy. I work in the mill there.''

  ''Indeed,'' he said. ''I don't know anyone who works in a mill. Alright, we seem to have established that you father lost it, and my father won it, what do you want?''

  ''My Lord, I understand that my father was foolish. Indeed, it was not only foolish but selfish. My poor mother spent the rest of her life in poverty, far from the life she should have enjoyed.'' She looked at the fire as it spat a piece of coal onto the hearth. ''However, I must add that your father hardly acted in a gentlemanly fashion. He should have realized that my father was not of sound mind and refused to accept the bet.” Victoria looked the Duke straight in the eye. “I would like you to return the estate to me.''

  He nodded. He'd expected it, as soon as he had become aware who she was. She was a beautiful woman, and he had no desire to hurt her in any way, but requiring him to give the estate back, after so many years, was a tall order. ''I understand your position. I hope you will allow me time to consider how best to resolve the situation.''

  ''Of course, my Lord.''

  ''Miss Lambert, it is late, and I suggest you stay here. I will ask one of our maids to look after you.''

  ''That is very kind of you. I don't think there is any transport back to my village at this time of the evening, and I don't want to stay at an inn alone.''

  Edward asked Rosie, a ladies maid who had no lady to look after, to make up a fire and warm the bedsheets in the green room. They continued to drink tea and talk until Victoria was no longer able to keep her eyes open. When she entered her bedroom, she was astounded at the luxury. A giant four poster bed, a large marble fireplace and the very best Turkish rugs on a polished wooden floor. Rosie was waiting for her with a hot bath and clean nightdress. When she helped Victoria undress, she could see Victoria's was used to manual work. It was slender and the muscles well formed. The bath was warm and as the fire crackled Victoria didn't want to get out. When eventually she did, she fell asleep instantly and slept for ten hours.

  The next morning Rosie knocked on the door at ten. Victoria usually rose at five when she had to go to the mill. Rosie helped her to dress, and showed her to the breakfast room. Edward was waiting. Victoria liked Rosie. She was in her late twenties and homely.

  ''Good morning, Miss Lambert. How did you sleep?''

  ''Very well indeed, much better than I am used to.''

  ''I have decided to show you around the Landsborough Estate today if of course you are not in a hurry to return to your home.'' Victoria had no desire to return at all, but she knew she must. One more day wouldn't hurt, though. ''Rosie will act as chaperone if you are agreeable.''

  Edward looked dashing as he showed Victoria to their pony and trap. The cold weather had relented, and it was a warm April day. He was wearing a blue tailcoat with a yellow waistcoat and blue trousers. Victoria hadn't thought to bring another dress, but she had packed fresh undergarments.

  Edward clicked and the black pony set of at a speed that suggested it would much rather spend the morning in a lush field that pull a trap around. The seat wasn't very wide, and Victoria found her leg rubbing against Edward's. She liked it. Rosie sat behind them facing backward and tried her best not to listen to their conversation.

  ''Tell me about your life, Miss Lambert. What is it like to work in a mill?'' Edward was genuinely interested. All his tenants were employed on the land, and he'd never met anyone working in industry.

  ''It is hard, my Lord. Fifteen hour days for little pay. My colleagues are pleasant enough, and there is a camaraderie among us, but it is backbreaking work. On Sundays, I go to church, and the rest of the time I sleep and work.''

  ''You don't make it sound very attractive at all. I must, one day, go and see these things for myself. I'm stuck here in the countryside all the time.''

  ''You are lucky, my Lord. If I were you, I would be happy to be so.'' What was he going to do with the estate? If he refused to give it back to her, she had no choice but to accept his decision. She was totally at the mercy of his sense of right and wrong.

  ''Perhaps you are right. I love rural life.'' As he spoke the trap fell into a deep run in the road, and they lurched to the right. Victoria gasped and held onto to him until the pony managed to pull them upright again.

  ''Excuse me, my Lord,'' she pulled her arm from his.

  He looked around and saw Rosie was looking in the other direction. ''No, please leave it there. I hope you don't think me forward when I tell you it is a nice feeling.''

  ''No, my Lord, I do not.''

  The view from the lane they were driving down was magnificent. Down the hill, in front of them, there were green fields full of cows grazing. Beyond the fields, Victoria could see a church spire surrounded by cottages. When they reached a gate, Rosie jumped down and opened it.

  ''We're entering the Landsborough Estate now,'' Edward said. The village below us is called Wendsbury. Most of the houses belong to the estate. There are five farms in all and most of the villagers work on the farms.''

  Victoria noticed how enthusiastically he spoke about the place. She'd heard his father had been a difficult landlord, but she was sure Edward was a kinder man, by far.

  ''It is much larger than I thought.'' Why had her father gambled so much away? Had he been so unwell that he had lost all clarity of thought, and what about poor mother? For her, it must have been awful.

  ''I will show you the village and then take you to meet Mr. Jepson, at Manor Farm.'' The fact he was showing her all this, and introducing her to a tenant farmer was a good sign, and Victoria was suddenly a thousand miles away from her life in Ashworhy.

  Edward noticed how her expression had changed. She'd lost the pained look of someone downtrodden, and gained a smile that made his heart race. He had never been with a woman before, and he was surprised when he began to have thoughts that made him afraid he would embarrass himself when he had to get down from the trap.

  ''It's beautiful,'' she exclaimed as they drove through the village. It was a linear village, with a strip of green running between the road and the houses which lined it. The church was at the end of the village, and there was a quaint thatched inn called the Lamb and Flag opposite.

  ''Yes, it is very beautiful. In all, there are sixty-three tenants here.'' Victoria had no idea how much a tenant was expected to pay in rent, but sixty-three times what she paid to Mr. Pickford was a lot of money each week.

  They left the village and took a left turn at a fork in the road. Signposted Manor Farm. This was an arable farm, and there were two teams of shire horses plowing the land to the right of the narrow road. At the end, they reached a farmyard. It was probably the tidiest farmyard in the land. Mr. Jepson couldn't stand a mess.

  Edward stopped and got down. He walked around the other side and helped Victoria to the ground. As he did so, he caught her scent. It made him want her more.

  ''Mr. Jespon, allow me to introduce Miss Lambert,'' Edward said proudly.

  Mr. Jepson was dressed in a check shirt and a pair of very baggy trousers, held up with a pair of yellow braces. On his feet welli
ngtons. ''You mean Landsborough, my Lord, not Lambert.''

  ''No, Lambert,'' Edward reiterated.

  ''Well if ever anybody had a face like Mrs. Landsborough it is the young lady standing here.'' He pointed to Victoria, who smiled.

  ''It's a long story, I'll tell you about it sometime. Will you show us around the farm, please?'' Jepson nodded and motioned them to follow him.

  *****

  After their excursion, Victoria retired to her room to rest. Far from resting, her mind was churning. What she'd seen had been idyllic, and beyond anything she had seen before. She knew if the Duke would see his way to giving her the estate back, she would remain there for the rest of her days, quite happily.

  Her thoughts turned to the Duke. He was handsome, and she was taken with him. It could be a perfect alliance, she thought.

  At six, Rosie knocked on the door. She'd come to dress Victoria for dinner.

  ''Miss Victoria, I have brought two dresses for you to try. They used to belong to Mr. Edward's grandmother.'' She put them on the bed. ''They are very fine evening gowns, and I am sure you are the same size as she was.''

  ''Rosie, how considerate of you. I'm afraid I have never worn anything this grand before; perhaps you will help me?''

  Rosie bathed and dressed Victoria in a silver gown made of the finest silk satin in pastel green. When Victoria looked in the mirror, she was shocked to see almost all her bosom protruding from the low square neckline. ''Mary, I can't wear.....''

  ''Miss Victoria I have seen the way Mr. Edward looks at you. If you want to impress him, I urge you to wear this dress.''

  ''But it's far too low, ‘Victoria complained.

  ''If a Duchess saw fit to wear it, I'm sure it is fine,'' Rosie said wisely.

  Victoria accepted her argument and turned her attention to her hair. When they were finished, Victoria looked magnificent. Her dress flowed elegantly to the floor, covering her silver shoes. Rosie had managed to find a necklace of pearls and a bracelet. The piece de resistance was her hair. It seemed Rosie was a master hairdresser, for Victoria's hair was curled to perfection in tiny ringlets down the side of her face.

  On the way down the grand staircase, Victoria suddenly remembered the mill. This was her second day off, and if she didn't return soon, she would be cast out of her home. But strangely she didn't care. Rosie had noticed it, and she had noticed it. The Duke wanted her, and she was sure nothing would come in their way.

  When she entered the library for pre-dinner drinks, Edward almost dropped his glass. He'd told his mother about Victoria and the story behind her visit, and she'd been eager to meet the young lady. Edward's mother smiled and nodded to her son approvingly.

  ''Victoria, it is quite improper, but I fear we have no alternative,'' the Dowager Duchess began. ''It has been splendid to meet you and now that dinner is finished, I would like to retire, but that would leave you alone with my son. Perhaps I should escort you to your room.''

  Edward quickly intervened. ''I would like to talk to Victoria for a few moments mother. I will ask Rosie to see her to bed.''

  His mother wasn't much of one for the English stiff upper lip, and she nodded in agreement. When she was gone, Roberts came and cleared the table. He left some brandy and brought tea for Victoria.

  Edward cleared his throat as if he was preparing to address the Queen. ''Victoria, dear Victoria. I have been thinking about the estate and indeed about you.'' Victoria daren't lift her tea cup fearing her tremoring hand would spill some over her borrowed dress. ''You are a very beautiful woman, and I am enormously taken with you. I have been able to think of nothing else but you, since the moment you walked into this house.'' He looked at her trying to gauge what her reaction mighty be, but her expression remained passive. ''It would be proper for me to ask your father if I may approach you, but your poor father is no longer with us, and I am unable to do so. Victoria, I would like to know if you would be amenable to the idea of becoming my wife.''

  Victoria was stunned. So soon? Was it too early? She felt something for him, but did she love him? Did she love him like she knew her mother had loved her father?

  Before she had a chance to say anything, he spoke again. ''If we were to marry, you could manage the estate.''

  Victoria could not believe what she was hearing. ''Was it not your intention to hand it back to me as the rightful owner? You led me to believe you would,'' she asked.

  ''I wouldn't need to hand it back to you if we were joined.''

  Victoria exploded. She stood up and threw her teacup into the fireplace. ''If that's what you think, then you can keep the estate, you're welcome to it. Marry me and make me the manager, indeed,'' she scoffed. ''I can see you're not better than that father of yours. He was dishonorable and dishonest, and you are worse because you are taking advantage of a lady's delicate situation.''

  *****

  ''Who is it?'' the innkeeper shouted. ''I'm coming, stop hammering on the door.'' He unbolted the door and looked outside. He was surprised to see a young woman carrying a travel bag. ''It's awfully late for you to be out alone, miss.''

  ''Can you please give me a room for the night,'' Victoria asked.

  When she stepped into the candlelit hallway, the innkeeper noticed she had mud on her shoes, and that the hem of her dress was wet, and mud splattered. ''Come along now miss, I'll get the wife to help you. Out at this time alone, well I never,'' he restated.

  His wife appeared in a dressing gown and a pair of slippers. ''Oh miss, what a mess you're in, come along with you.'' She led Victoria up the stairs and into a small bedroom at the end of the corridor. ''Where have you come from at this time?'' she asked.

  ''From Easingborough Hall, over the fields.''

  The Innkeeper's wife looked quizzically at her. The old Duke was dead, so it wasn't one of his women.

  ''Is there a coach from here to York tomorrow?''

  ''Yes, it calls here every day at nine am.''

  *****

  ''Three days, three whole days,'' Mr. Picford shouted. ''Where have you been all this time?''

  ''Pleas sir, I've been at home. I wasn't too well.''

  ''Nonsense. On the second day, Mary went to see where you were. You were not at your cottage. Where were you, and I want the truth?''

  Lizzie had told Victoria to expect a showdown when she went into the mill but she hadn't told her that Mary had been to the cottage. Perhaps she didn't know. She would have to think of an excuse and fast. ''I have an aunt, in Haslemere. She's gravely ill. I went to visit her,'' she lied.

  He was walking around her as she stood in the middle of his office. He leaned into her and sniffed her scent. It reminded her of a dog, and she began to feel faint. ''Well whatever the truth, you have missed three days. You will not go back to work in the mill.''

  ''But, Mr. Pickford, please.......''

  ''Today is Friday, on Monday morning, you will report for work in my cottage as one of my assistants. If you refuse, I will have nothing more to do with you.'' He smiled before delivering the rest of his terrifying message. ''You will not work at the mill, and you will not live in one of my houses. You will be on the streets. Is that clear?'' She nodded.

  Victoria waited for Lizzie on the wall at the entrance to the mill. Lizzie was covered in dust when Victoria saw her. ''What happened to you?'' Victoria asked.

  ''Mary had me cleaning out some of the air pipes, they're full of dust and rat droppings.'' Lizzie took Victoria's arm, and she wanted to pull away. Rat's droppings didn't sound too healthy. As they went down the hill towards the village, Victoria told Lizzie all about her trip to the solicitors and then to Easingborough Hall. When she came to the end, Lizzie was in tears. ''You mean, you refused the Duke's offer?''

  ''Yes.''

  ''You're mad,'' Lizzie said.

  ''He's just like all the others. He should have given it back to me, expecting me to be the manager is.....well I don't know, but it isn't honest.''

  Lizzie wanted to say that it was her father's fault r
eally, but she refrained.

  ''Pickford wants me to start work in the assistants house on Monday.''

  ''Jesus Victoria. Go back to the Duke and accept his offer.''

  ''No never. He's just as dishonest as his father,''

  Lizzie didn't understand. ''You’re bloody headstrong, and it's not good for you.''

  At the village green, Jack was waiting. Lizzie kissed Victoria goodbye and went towards her house.

  ''Can I walk with you Victoria?'' he asked.

  ''Yes I'd like that,'' she said. He almost jumped in the air, it was a result he wasn’t expecting. They walked together without saying anything until they reached Victoria's cottage. ''Thank you, Jack, that was nice,'' she said.

  ''It's my pleasure. I was wondering if you would like to walk with me on Sunday, after church? he asked, holding his breath.

  ''Yes, Jack, I'd like that very much,'' she said. When she closed the door behind her, she slipped to her knees and began to cry.

  *****

  On Monday morning, Victoria was not dressed in her usual mill workers clothes, but in her best dress. She'd picked some daffodils and put one in her bonnet. It was gone eight, and if she'd been working in the mill, she would already have been at work for two hours. Nine o'clock was her new start time. At eight forty, she was ready to walk up the hill to the first street on the right, Calderdale Avenue. Number three belonged to Mr. Pickford, and she was to report there. She put on her bonnet and took the bunch of daffodils. She went to the kitchen took a carving knife and hid it in the flowers she was carrying.

  When she arrived at her new place of work, she was greeted by three other women, all equally well dressed. They showed her to what they called, her room. It appeared each of them had their own room. ''When Mr. Pickford comes, he chooses one of us, and we go with him to our own room. He likes it that way'' a woman called Isabella said.