The Bargain Bride

by Metzger, Barbara

  “Hmm?” He was almost asleep. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she whispered. “I have everything I need right here in my arms.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Affianced at birth to the neighbor’s son, Miss R. was pleased that she could keep living so close to her mama. Her husband was pleased with the match, too. Now he could keep living with his mama.

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

  West was still asleep after his hard, fast ride. The trip from Westfield must have been exhausting, too, because Penny could not wake him in the morning. She tried with a kiss. Then she whispered “I love you” in his ear. He rolled over. She stroked the hard planes of his back, and he mumbled something into his pillow that may have been “love, too” or may have been “later.” A pinch to his derriere did not do it, nor a poke to his ribs.

  So much for a lusty start to the day. Reformed rakes might be all well and good, but this one was not good for anything in the morning, it seemed. Penny gave up and got out of bed. She was starving, and not merely for West’s lovemaking. Her stomach had been in knots for the last two days, and she had not been able to eat a bite at the ball, either. So she dressed as quietly as she could, although she need not have made the effort, for West did not stir. Then she went down to the morning parlor, where breakfast was served.

  Nicky was the only one there. Nicky, at breakfast? She looked to make sure he hadn’t just come home, but, no, he was wearing fresh clothes and his hair was still wet from his morning wash. He rubbed at the garnet ring back on his finger.

  Penny wanted to eat in a hurry and then get back to her husband, who ought to be awake soon, even if she had to pour water over his head. She wanted to show him his other gifts and talk to him about his black eye, and the black marks on her reputation. Mostly she wanted to hear him say “I love you” again. But Nicky needed her advice.

  “Sir Gaspar says he will help me make something of my life. Do you think I have to wait to ask Mavis to share it?”

  “Mavis?”

  He nodded. “She makes me laugh, and she don’t lecture a fellow. We both like London and parties. What do you think?”

  Penny spread jam on her toast while she considered her answer. Nicky was looking at her with great expectation of hearing the opinion that matched his enthusiasm, as if pearls of wisdom would drop from her mouth, instead of toast crumbs. Penny supposed she should feel honored that Nicky trusted her with his confidence and accepted her as an older sister, especially after she’d solved his problems with Nigel. What she knew of marriage and courtship, however, could fit on her teaspoon, with room for the tea. So she chewed her toast carefully while Nicky sat on the edge of his chair, waiting.

  Well, she thought, she and West had started off with far less in common, and neither Mavis nor Nicky seemed as immature and pampered as they had once had, but gracious, marriage was more complicated than sharing jokes and dances.

  “Well? Must I wait until I have made my fortune? That could take years, and might never happen. Mavis could find another suitor. You saw how popular she was with the fellows last night.”

  Or he might find another young lady he liked better. Heavens, there was more to matchmaking than she supposed, like being responsible for the future happiness of two people she cared about. Penny reached for the dish of eggs.

  Nicky pulled the bowl out of her reach. “Tell me what you think.”

  Penny thought she was still hungry, and West might know better what to tell his brother. But West was sleeping, dash it, and Nicky was hoarding the eggs. “I think . . . yes, I think you should ask Mavis what she wants.”

  He leaped up, shoved the eggs in Penny’s direction, and kissed her cheek. “I knew you would have good advice! West married himself a real winner.” He rushed past Lady Bainbridge on his way out.

  Lady Bainbridge did not seem to notice Nicky’s rudeness, or the platters of food standing on the sideboard. She sat down and waited until Mr. Parker poured her a cup of chocolate and left, then said she needed Penny’s blessings.

  “That is, if you do not think I am too old to wed?”

  Penny set her fork down with a clatter. Had there been something in the punch last night? “I . . . I do not think anyone is ever too old. Do you wish to marry?”

  Lady Bainbridge stirred her chocolate without drinking any, studying the swirls and her own daydreams. “I think I do.”

  “Mr. Cottsworth, I assume?”

  “Hmm.” The older woman smiled and went back to stirring.

  “Does he feel the same?”

  “Oh, yes. He says he does not care that I cannot give him children, that he has nieces and nephews aplenty. And then I can hope to spoil your babes when you have them.”

  Penny looked at the watch pinned to her gown. There were not going to be any infants, not at this rate. “Of course. I expect you to be godmother to my first child.”

  “Thank you. And Michael says I can help his career, since he wishes to rise in political circles.”

  “You will make an excellent hostess for a diplomat or a government official. Even better, you will enjoy that kind of life.”

  Lady Bainbridge leaned closer to Penny, her figured shawl in danger of knocking over the pitcher of cream. “That’s what I always wanted, you know,” she confided.

  “And a home of my own. Michael wants to show me his town house this morning, unless you need me?”

  Penny shook her head no. She needed time with her husband.

  Lady Bainbridge was going on. “I thought we would wait until the end of the Season. You will have those stepsisters fired off nicely. One is already betrothed.”

  “Two, actually, or nearly so.”

  “How lovely. Then you will not be needing my services all the sooner, especially with your husband home, and after your grand success last night. Michael’s brother has an estate in Ireland where we might honeymoon. If you don’t mind.”

  Penny helped herself to bacon. “I am delighted for you. Just think, no more pesky debutantes to lead through the Season.”

  Lady Bainbridge took a sip of her chocolate, which was cold by now, from all her stirring. “No more guarding a young lady’s virtue, when she is eager to waltz down the primrose path.”

  Penny was eager to get back upstairs, but she was honestly happy for her friend, and got into the spirit of the thing. “No more amateur musicales or practice dance sessions.”

  Lady Bainbridge turned serious. “No more worrying about my future.”

  “But I told you, you would always have a place with us.”

  “Thank you, my dear. But that’s not the same as having a home of one’s own, or financial security. No more counting every farthing.” Then Lady Bainbridge giggled like a schoolgirl and added, “No more empty beds.”

  Which reminded Penny of who was sleeping in hers, but she could not go back there yet. Her grandfather needed her next, to make his farewells. He asked for a cup of tea, which Marcel fortified with a drop of brandy before leaving them alone, before Penny could ask any questions.

  “Time for me and Marcel to leave, poppet.”

  “Not yet, Grandpapa, unless you are worried that Marcel will be found out in a pack of lies?” When her grandfather shook his head no, she said, “You saw how everyone accepted him. Why, he was a celebrity. And you were as much a success. All your old friends welcomed you, and Nicky’s friends, too.”

  He patted her hand. “But I would rather be in Bath, now that Westfield is back to look after you. I don’t want to be in Town, waiting for all my old friends to drop off. And I want to get back to my painting, earn my way. The light is dreadful in London, you know, and there are too many interruptions.”

  Penny looked down at his blue-veined hand with gnarled knuckles. She could not do anything about the city’s perpetual rain and fog, but she could ease her grandfather’s worries about money. “You do not need to paint any longer, unless you want to, of course. I have money, enoug
h for all of us. I couldn’t touch it until I was wed, but now I can.” Well, West technically had the money, but she knew he would not mind. Besides, her father told her last night that he would refill her accounts at his own bank, out of gratitude for Mr. Culpepper and chagrin at Nigel, and to make things look better to his partners.

  Her grandfather sipped at his tea and stared out the window, leaving Penny to wonder again how much he could see. He obviously saw that it was time to tell the truth.“If it comes to that,” he told her,“I have money, too. Been holding out all these years, I have. It’s your grandmother’s dowry and an inheritance from my uncle, don’t you know. I was making enough of the ready for our needs with my painting, and I liked it that way. So I invested the other sums. Made a fortune, too. Better’n Greedy Goldwaite could have done with the blunt.”

  “But then why did you keep painting, to sell those—?” She bit her tongue.

  Littleton laughed. “How else could I get your father to part with more of his brass?”

  “You knew he was buying the paintings?”

  “Of course. I had a man investigate the ‘gallery’ that was buying my work. It was a warehouse, poppet. Where they belonged, I suppose.”

  Penny served both of them a dish of kippers, from under a silver dome. “But you never let on.”

  “What, admit that puffguts Gaspar was doing a good deed? We both would have been embarrassed.”

  “But why? I do not understand. You did not need the money; he did not want the artwork.”

  Littleton wrinkled his nose at the kippers, or at the thought of his son-in-law. “He did not appreciate you as he ought, sending you away so that woman could take your place, take your mother’s place. Not that I wasn’t happy to have you, poppet. Brought back the light to the old house, don’t you know. You reminded me so much of your grandmother, and your mother, too. I shall miss, you.”

  Now Penny could not swallow, through the lump in her throat. What if he went away and she never saw him again? “And I shall miss you, too, Grandpapa.”

  Without seeing, he knew. “Do you know, the one advantage of poor eyesight is that I can hold in my mind the pictures I want? My favorite is you when you posed for that portrait, so sweet and innocent, a rosebud about to unfurl into the magnificent blossom you have become. I will remember that forever.”

  “And I shall remember all the stories you told me so that I would stand still for you. And, more importantly, how you made me feel loved again, with my mother gone and my father claiming his new family.”

  “You have a husband now, my dear, to make you feel cherished. You don’t need a doddering old man.”

  Penny tried to hold back a sniffle, but could not. She pushed her plate away. “I will always need my grandfather.”

  “Maybe you will come to Bath for a holiday.”

  She blew her nose. “Definitely. That is not so far away.”

  “Not the way your husband travels. I’ll leave you Cook, but I’ll take George.” On hearing his name, the little dog jumped into Littleton’s lap, for pets and kippers.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Cook has never been happier than when she could fuss over your party, feeding all those toffs. And in Bath we stay at a hotel with its own restaurant, you know. As for George, I could never leave my old friend.” He stroked the pug’s wrinkled brow. “One day soon old George won’t come back from one of his breathing fits. I know that. I should be there with him, don’t you think, to say good-bye? He’d be at my side when my time comes, if he could.”

  Penny was happy her grandfather could not see her tears as he and George left the room on Mr. Parker’s arm, to help Marcel with the packing. She needed West’s comfort now. What else were husbands for? Surely not to fall asleep during lovemaking. First, her father needed her, too.

  A messenger in the ornate Goldwaite livery arrived with a note from Lady Goldwaite. Constance wrote that Sir Gaspar was suffering palpitations of the heart, which his physician deemed dire. Penny should hurry, taking the Goldwaite coach that was ordered to wait outside to save time, since minutes counted. And, Constance suggested in her note, Penny might want to pull the shades, to avoid a repeat of that other nonsense.

  Penny’s first thought was to fetch West, but he’d take too much time to dress. She did not want him to encounter Nigel this morning, either. For that matter, Penny did not want to see the varlet herself, but she had no choice. Lady Bainbridge had her own affairs to settle this morning, but Nicky would already be there, so she did not bother to ring for her maid, just grabbed up her reticule and followed the groom to the waiting coach, calling back to the footman on duty to tell Mr. Parker and Lord Westfield where she was going.

  The messenger helped her into the coach, then jumped up to ride with the driver. The shades were already covering the windows, so Penny fretted in the dark interior all the way to her father’s house, until she realized the trip was taking far longer than it should. She pulled at one of the curtains and felt her breakfast sink to the bottom of her stomach. They were not going in the right direction. She banged on the roof, shouting for the driver to stop.

  He did, but before Penny could scramble out of the coach, gloved hands shoved her back in. Nigel followed. The driver cracked his whip over the horses’ heads and they leaped forward, sending Penny sliding across the seat. Nigel reached out to steady her, but she batted his hands away.

  Furious, at herself and at him, she still had to ask, “My father is not ill, is he?”

  “I sincerely hope not. ’Twould be a shame if he sticks his spoon in the wall before I get my hands on his gold.”

  “And your mother did not write the note?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Not even my mama loves me enough for that. She’d think it was laying a curse on Sir Gaspar by claiming him at death’s door. Why kill the goose that lays the golden eggs?”

  “So you forged her signature the same as you did Nicky’s. But why? What do you hope to get? You know I changed my accounts, so I could not make you an allowance without my husband’s permission. Which he would never give.”

  The coach turned a corner, and this time Nigel did not try to hold Penny steady. She clutched the strap near her, wondering if she stood a chance of surviving a jump from a moving vehicle.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Nigel warned. “We are going far too fast. Not that it would make a difference to me as long as your father doesn’t find you first. You see, I want what I have always wanted, your father’s blunt. He’ll pay to see his precious daughter back, in one piece or a few.”

  “He is dowering your sisters, isn’t that enough?”

  He sneered, there in the gloom. “Neither brat is wedding as rich a man as I need, thanks to you and your interference. Love matches, bah!”

  Penny held on as the coach careened around another bend. “He will kill you for this, you know.”

  “Your father? He wouldn’t dare. My mother would make his life a misery. For all his faults, he seems to care for the old besom.”

  “No, my husband.” Penny knew West would come for her. She had no doubt whatsoever.

  “I’ll be long gone before anyone finds you. That’s if they pay up.” He leered at her across the shadows, then licked his lips. “If they don’t, soon enough, I might just have to take you with me, which is not a bad idea, now that I think on it. That would serve your high-and-mighty lordship right—him and that fake French count, too. Do you get seasick?”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  When his uncle told Mr. J. to wed a mill owner’s

  daughter, the young man told him to drop dead.

  The uncle did, and left Mr. J. out of his will. No one

  would marry him then.

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

  West woke up happy, then went back to sleep when he realized Penny wasn’t beside him. He lay abed for a while, dreaming of the ways he could make up for last night, his short temper, and his short performance.
Lud, he couldn’t wait. That is, he could wait this time, he vowed, until Penny was all soft and sated. As soon as he could entice her back to bed.

  Most likely she was at breakfast, he decided, listening to his own stomach’s complaints of hunger. He hurried through a hasty meal when he heard Sir Gaspar was ailing and that Penny had rushed to his possible deathbed. He sent for a horse to be brought out front while he grabbed up his hat and gloves and some extra handkerchiefs.

  Just as he was about to leave, a carriage pulled up, in Goldwaite’s green and gold trim, and Sir Gaspar himself leaped out before the footmen set down the steps.

  “Is Penny here?” he shouted, all red-faced by the time he reached West.

  The man did not look like he was dying, only out of breath. “You’re not sick?”

  Goldwaite looked around West, into the empty hallway. “Do I look sick?”

  “Then where is my wife?”

  “Devil take it, man, that’s what I am trying to find out! If she ain’t here, Nigel’s got her.”

  “What does that swine want with my wife, by all that’s holy? I won’t believe any scandal he tries to cause, and Penny won’t believe any former mistresses he drags into my house. Most of all, he can’t get his hands on her money.”

  “No, but he can get his paws on mine. He knows I’d pay anything to get my gal back.”

  “Ransom?” West heard Lady Bainbridge gasp from behind him, Cottsworth at her side, his arm supporting her.

  Sir Gaspar nodded. “That’s my guess. I didn’t trust the dastard, so I had a man follow him. He got into my other coach—my own traveling carriage, blast him—with the curtains drawn so the man could not see who or what was inside. Then they took off like Satan himself was driving. My man followed as best he could to see the direction, then fell too far behind in his hackney—they were traveling so fast. But he did say they were headed east, for the Dover road.”