His Bargained for Bride (Regency Matchmakers Book 4)

by Celeste Jones

  Not only was I pleased to be included in the social aspects, but an improvement society satisfied my yearning to make life better for others. It would all be good practice for my life in America.

  Of course, I could not mention any of that to this group of ladies. For all they knew, or ever would know, I was happily married to Lord Stowe, the most prosperous gentleman in the area and also the landlord of many of the ladies in attendance as well as some of the recipients of the group’s benevolence.

  Though none spoke ill of my husband, I could not help but wonder if he might be able to do more for his tenants. Was their lack of complaint based on the facts or a desire not to offend me? I was determined to find out more.

  It was an interesting group of ladies gathered in Seraphina’s sitting room. About a dozen in all, I was, I believe, the highest ranking as the Viscountess of Stowe, though it still felt odd to think of myself in that way. The others were our hostess, Seraphina, the aforementioned Mrs. Fisk and her daughter, Mrs. Maxine Shepherd, the local dressmaker who held a christening dress in her lap while she stitched delicate pleats into the bodice. I quickly glanced at Seraphina, remembering the secret she had shared with me.

  She moved amongst her guests with ease, unconcerned with the fact that Mrs. Laube, the dairyman’s wife, sat next to Mrs. Markham, the wife of the local banker. Mrs. Markham seemed a bit put out by the seating arrangement, but when Seraphina complimented Mrs. Laube’s sewing, Mrs. Markham was gracious enough to agree.

  “How you are able to make such fine seams with hands as red and rough as yours, I shall never know,” Mrs. Fisk said. Mrs. Laube’s face turned crimson and she pulled her hands back, trying to hide them.

  “There is nothing wrong with a bit of hard work,” I jumped in. Mrs. Fisk’s comments were unnecessarily cruel and rankled me.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Fisk harrumphed, “what would the rest of us do if there were not women like Mrs. Laube willing to make cheese and butter?”

  I glanced at Seraphina. This gathering was about to get contentious. Hardly an auspicious start to a meeting about improving our community.

  “Mrs. Fisk,” Mrs. Boyd interjected, “I have heard Dr. Spencer’s tale of the night you assisted him in rescuing Mrs. Spencer after she had been abducted, but I have never heard your version. I am sure it was terrifying. You were brave indeed. It would thrill me to no end to hear you tell it.”

  Caroline Fisk, sighed and rolled her eyes. No doubt she had been subjected to her mother’s tale many times. She added another piece of lemon cake to her plate.

  I kept my focus on my knitting and tried not to giggle. Mrs. Boyd was a gem. Mrs. Fisk was likely affronted by being addressed directly by Mrs. Boyd who was Seraphina’s housekeeper, maid, cook and all-around support system. However, her pleasure at sharing the tale outweighed her snobbery. At least momentarily.

  “Well, when I saw Dr. Spencer take off in my new barouche, I was simply not going to have it…” she started and I was grateful to Mrs. Boyd for redirecting Mrs. Fisk’s attention. I half listened to the tale which was no doubt embellished by the teller, while I glanced around the room at the other attendees.

  My attention returned to Miss Caroline Fisk. She was about my age and rather pretty. Had Drake ever shown an interest in her? Her figure, despite an obvious preference for sweets, was slender and her hands were delicate and graceful. As I knitted, I could not help but notice my stubby fingers.

  Kneeling on the floor, my hands folded together on my thighs as I looked up at my husband, yearning to please him. In his arms and in his bed, I had realized the pleasure that my submission brought to myself and to him.

  All my life, it seemed, I had been fighting, struggling to be recognized and respected. Regarded as something more than simply an object to be admired for its beauty but never acknowledged as a sentient being with thoughts and opinions of my own. An ability to contribute to society other than as an adornment.

  No one was more surprised than I at my willingness to submit. Well, it had not been my first thought but once I was convinced, I saw the happiness that indulging my submissive side could bring.

  But only for him.

  Gazing up at him, my eyes studied his handsome face. His eyes met mine and the heat there sent a fiery spiral of longing to my cunny and I shifted a bit on my knees as the sensations between my thighs quickened.

  I looked away from his gaze and directed my eyes to his hard erection which taunted me from just a few inches away.

  He reached down and cupped my chin. “Would you like to suck my cock, Amy?”

  “Y-yes, sir. M-more than anything.”

  “Anything?”

  I looked up at him and smiled. “Well, sir, at this moment, more than anything, but there are other pleasures which I hope you will indulge me in before the night is over. If you please, sir.”

  He stroked his thumb over my bottom lip and I opened my mouth for its intrusion. I wrapped my tongue around it but before I could suck it, he withdrew.

  I whimpered my disappointment.

  “Such a good little girl you are, Amy.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I licked my lips. “M-may I? Sir. May I suck your cock?”

  The smoldering look in his eye sent a wave of moisture from my womanly core and I felt it trickle down my thigh.

  “Is your pussy wet, Amy?”

  “Y-yes, sir. It is. Very. “

  “Show me,” he ordered and I quivered.

  With my fingers, I opened the lips of my sex to his view. The pink folds glistened in the candlelight.

  “It would appear that you are quite eager tonight, my little wife. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, my voice quivering with need.

  “You may begin,” he said. I heard desire in his voice and it filled me with satisfaction knowing he wanted me. Wanted me in the same way and with the same intensity that I wanted him.

  I gripped Drake’s cock, my fingers straining around his girth. Against my palm the smooth hard flesh of his manhood grew even harder and I mewled with wanting.

  My small fingers endeavored to hold him in place while I moved my mouth to engulf the length of him, relaxing the muscles at the back of my throat, savoring the feel of him filling my mouth, crowding against my cheeks and throat.

  With one hand I stroked the length of him as I moved my mouth back and forth to lubricate his entire cock. With the other hand, I reached out and stroked his bollocks, the orbs weighed heavy against my palm and again I wished my fingers were larger, better able to grasp and envelope him.

  When he buried his hands in my hair and held me in place, I knew he was nearing his climax and I waited eagerly for him to shoot his hot seed into my mouth, down my throat.

  And when he, in fact, did those things while moaning my name, I swallowed all of it with pride.

  “Oh, Mrs. Fisk, what a fascinating story. I never tire of hearing it.” Seraphina had moved to stand behind me and her voice penetrated my daydream, bringing me back to the present moment in the parlour of Cherry Grove Manor. I suspected she realized my mind was elsewhere, though how far away from the prim and proper Briar Glen Improvement Society meeting it actually was, I hoped she did not guess. However, I could feel a heated flush on my face and looked down at my knitting again in hopes of avoiding notice.

  “It was the most harrowing night of my entire life,” Mrs. Fisk said. “Why just imagine what might have happened to me—that marauder loose in our community and in possession of my new barouche.” She shuddered dramatically.

  I got the impression that Mrs. Fisk did everything dramatically.

  Chapter 9

  “How was your gathering with the fine ladies of Briar Glen?” Uncle Jarvis asked.

  I had been stunned to see him sitting in the garden of Jade River Hall when I returned from Cherry Grove Manor. It did my heart good to see him fully dressed and outside taking in the fresh air and sunshine.

  In just a short period of time, this rapscallion of a man had worme
d his way into my heart. Though it was a warm summer day, he had a blanket across his lap. I tucked it around him snuggly and then sat next to him on a garden bench among the well-maintained blooms.

  “I had a very nice time. I think that the Briar Glen Improvement Society will be an asset to the town.”

  “And what did you think of Mrs. Fisk?” he asked, one side of his mouth turned up in a smirk.

  “How do you know she was there?”

  “There is nothing that happens in the village of Briar Glen that that woman doesn’t know about and whenever possible, stick her nose into.”

  “It seems to me, dear uncle, that you are sticking your nose into the situation too,” I teased. “Why, you are no better than Mrs. Fisk.”

  He laughed and it was a delighted, full throated laugh. The laugh of a strong and healthy man.

  “Ah, you are a sassy one, Amy.” He clasped my hand and despite the vigor of his laugh, his grip revealed frailness. I covered his hand with mine and gently rubbed the thin skin on the back of his hand.

  “Other than Mrs. Fisk and of course, Mrs. Spencer, who else was there and what grand plans do you ladies have to make the town better?”

  “Let me see, there was Mrs. Shepherd who, I believe, is a seamstress. The needlework on the christening gown she was making was exquisite.”

  “Ah yes, Mrs. Shepherd. I am not so attuned to the whims of fashion, but I understand she is exceptionally talented and the ladies of Briar Glen are fortunate to have her skills. I hope you will become a regular client of hers. You are a lovely young lady, if I might say so. I will tell Drake to loosen the purse strings and open an account for you with her.”

  “Uncle,” I exclaimed, “that is unkind. Drake is exceptionally generous.”

  “Have you asked him for new clothes since your arrival?”

  “Of course not. It has only been a few days since I got to town. And you may recall, that I had not planned on marrying quite so soon.”

  “I bet the ladies had a few questions about that, did they not?” Uncle Jarvis was taking much too much delight in gathering gossip about the meeting.

  “Well, Uncle, I will invite the ladies to meet at Jade River Hall in a few weeks and you may eavesdrop all you want then. How would you like that?”

  His face lit up with excitement as though he were a youngster. “I would enjoy that very much. How often does the group meet?”

  “Every fortnight. We are meeting at Mrs. Fisk’s house next and I shall offer to be hostess for the following meeting. There, just one month to wait.”

  His face fell a bit. “If I am still here then.”

  Caught up in our banter, I had momentarily forgotten about the short-term nature of my residence at Jade River Hall and in Briar Glen. There was much that could transpire in that amount of time. However, I did not wish to allow Uncle Jarvis to wallow in his fate. Now that I had seen the light shine in his eyes, I was determined to bring it back.

  “You must promise to be here because I believe you are a man who always keeps his promises. Besides, we might need your input for our endeavors.”

  “I do keep my promises so I shall promise to enjoy your meeting, but from afar. But not so far that I cannot listen in.”

  “You are a scamp!”

  “And what projects does your improvement society have in mind?”

  “We are going to raise money to have the assembly hall painted. Also, there was a suggestion about planting some flowers on the village square.”

  Uncle Jarvis paused, digesting that information.

  “It is nice to think there will be new and better things happening around here after I am gone.”

  Drake

  I returned to Jade River Hall after an appointment with my solicitor and heard laughter coming from the garden. The deep guffaw of my uncle—a sound which had been a near constant in my life until the last few months—made me realize just how much my uncle had declined, for he was a man who loved to laugh and the absence of the sound of his merriment had weighed heavily on me.

  I strode in that direction eager to be near him while his spirits were high. I heard another sound which stopped me in my tracks—Amy’s laughter joined my uncle’s. Glancing past the hedge rows I saw her smiling down at him, the sun glinting off a few loose strands of her hair.

  My heart did a strange little flip in my chest.

  I don’t know how it had happened. Apparently, I had not been careful enough in keeping my distance because Amy had stolen my heart and had done so, it seemed, in record time. Waking with her in my bed and in my arms had gotten my days off to a happy start in a manner I had never experienced before. I found myself quite content, indeed. A state which was rather foreign, but not unappreciated.

  She and Uncle Jarvis had not noticed my approach so I took a moment to observe them. The two most important people in my life.

  And both would be gone from it before the leaves turned in the fall.

  Amy leaned over him, her face lit with a smile. Had I observed her favoring any other man with such a smile, I would have been consumed with jealousy but seeing Uncle Jarvis’ delight in her, only increased my own happiness.

  Uncle Jarvis must have been pouring on the charm for Amy threw back her head with full throated laughter and when she did, our eyes met across the yards separating us. She stifled her laugh and beckoned to me with her hand. “Drake, join us. We are having a delightful time here in the garden.” Her voice wafted over me like a balm and I could not have declined her request had I wanted to. And I most definitely did not want to.

  Despite the caustic nature of our first meeting, she had mesmerized me. Even my solicitor had commented on my improved disposition. If more people mentioned how much more pleasant I had become I would begin to wonder precisely how odious I had been in the past.

  I put those thoughts aside as Amy reached her hand out to me and I took it in my own. She wore delicately crocheted lace gloves and I could see and feel the supple skin of her hands through the lace. When she touched me, warmth reverberated through me. I wondered if she had somehow cast a spell upon me.

  If so, I had no argument with it.

  She gave me a kiss on the cheek in greeting.

  “Oh, come on now. You can do better than that,” Uncle Jarvis said, his voice strong.

  “You are a scandalous man,” Amy admonished him with a wag of her finger.

  I had hoped for a fake fiancée who would at least be able to fool my uncle into believing we were in love or at least sufficiently fond of each other that a marriage was likely to be suitable. Instead I had a bride who by all accounts had developed a great affection for my dear uncle and vice versa.

  But for the knowledge that this bit of happiness was fleeting, I would have been quite elated.

  Uncle Jarvis must have sensed my thoughts. “Drake,” he said, “let us not think about what tomorrow holds and enjoy today.”

  Several footmen arrived with refreshments and we enjoyed an afternoon outdoors. When Uncle Jarvis began to doze, we took him inside and tucked him up in his bed.

  Then I took my bride to mine.

  Amy

  This day was shaping up to be nearly ideal. I had enjoyed my time with the ladies of Briar Glen and seeing Seraphina’s growing confidence in her role as wife of the town’s doctor and in her ideas for improving the community heartened me. Then an afternoon of sunshine with my two favorite gentlemen in the whole world.

  It was no surprise really, that Uncle Jarvis had become a favorite. He was a rascal and a charmer, but also a man of character as evidenced by his obvious affection for Drake and the care he had taken with his upbringing. Not many bachelors would take in an orphaned nephew and see to his rearing personally.

  And as I stood in the bedchamber which I shared with my husband, my flesh prickling with heated desire as I awaited—rather impatiently—his instructions, I could not help but wonder at the good fortune which had brought us together, even if only for a short time.

  Uncl
e Jarvis’ voice from earlier in the day reverberated in my head: let us not think about what tomorrow holds and enjoy today.

  Drake locked the door, though it seemed unnecessary. No servant would enter without permission and I had no desire to be anywhere else. However, the click of the lock closing sent a shiver of anticipation through me. It signaled the beginning of something I was sure would be delicious and decadent.

  He strode toward me, his eyes holding mine. As he closed the distance between us, my toes curled in my shoes and my nipples beaded into hard points. Without saying a word, he wrapped me in his arms and claimed my mouth with his. My hands found their way into the thick waves of his hair and I held his head close, returning his kisses with equal fervor. He moved his hands to my hair and began pulling out the pins and combs which held it in place. It was still much shorter than was fashionable.

  “Someday,” he whispered in my ear, “you will explain to me why you cut your hair so short.”

  “Y-yes, sir,” I replied. Though his words were soft, the demanding nature of them filled me with yearning for him. For his strength and domination.

  I knew better than to try to undress him without his permission, so I wove my hands inside his coat and ran them over the soft material of his shirt, reveling in the hard planes of his chest. His nipples hardened against my palms and I rubbed over them roughly.

  “Settle down, little girl,” he growled and swatted my bottom playfully.

  I ignored his instructions and pulled his shirt from the waistband of his pants and repeated the same motion over his chest, this time against his bare flesh. He inhaled sharply at the contact and then lifted me from the floor.