The Townsbridge's Series

by Sophie Barnes

  “Please take these up to the parlor and distribute one on each table,” she instructed one of the footmen as soon as the macaroons had been displayed to her liking. Once he was on his way, she ordered two maids to take up the teapots and coffee.

  A sigh of relief left her as soon as this had been accomplished. The most important part of her job today had been completed. All that remained now was for her to clean the stove and oven since this was a task she preferred to do herself.

  She collected a tub, added some soap suds and filled it with water, then grabbed the cloth she’d boiled that morning and used it to wipe away all traces of grease. It wasn’t too arduous a task since she did it daily and took only about ten minutes to complete.

  Once done, she rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck in an effort to ease her tense muscles, not caring if the footman entering the kitchen behind her bore witness. Bending over thirty plates in order to decorate each perfect pyramid of salmon mousse was strenuous work, and so was wielding an iron skillet.

  The man’s feet scraped the floor before drawing to halt. Eloise sighed as she went to toss out the dirty water from the tub she’d used. “There’s still one more tray to take up. And then the dining room will need to be cleared.”

  “I’m not here to work,” a low and all-too-familiar voice murmured, “but rather to make a complaint.”

  Eloise wasn’t sure who gasped loudest, her or the scullery maid. She glanced at the girl whose gaze was firmly fixed on the plate she was scrubbing. Her arched eyebrows conveyed the extent of her shock. She pressed her lips together and went to work on the next plate, clearly determined to avoid any confrontation.

  Eloise turned and her heart leapt into her throat, because whatever memory she’d had of William, the real flesh and blood man standing before her was so much more impressive. Her stomach began doing cartwheels the moment her gaze met his. Heat washed over her body, pricking her skin and causing her fingers to tremble until she feared she might drop the tub she held. She carefully set it aside.

  He wasn’t supposed to be here. Yet somehow he was, and heaven above, if she wasn’t tempted to forget why she’d run from him in the first place or why she was here. Only, doing so would be a mistake. So she forced her spine into a rigid line, raised her chin, and confronted him with as much directness as she could manage.

  “A complaint about what?”

  The edge of his mouth lifted until the awful man was smirking at her. A flash of humor lit his eyes. “The food, of course.”

  Another gasp came from the scullery maid. Eloise stared at William while doing her best not to let outrage cloud her judgment. “You found it displeasing, did you?”

  He crossed his arms, leaned against the doorjamb, and shrugged. “The salmon mousse wasn’t as smooth as I would have liked, the meat had a bit of a burnt flavor to it, and the cake tasted like mud.”

  Eloise’s eyes widened. Indignation forced her feet to move forward of their own volition. “Like mud?”

  “I struggled to eat it.”

  “You obviously don’t appreciate what you have,” she snapped with more anger than she’d intended. “A hungry person would have been grateful for the smallest bite even if the flavor didn’t agree with their taste.”

  There was a pause, during which her statement settled heavily between them. His eyes held hers as he slowly advanced. “You’re right. I apologize for upsetting you. In fact, I’m sorry for everything I’ve recently told you since none of it’s true.”

  “You mean you lied?” When he nodded, she took a deep swallow. “So you enjoyed my cooking?”

  “Yes, but that’s not all I’ve been dishonest about, Eloise.” He moved closer still. “I misled you about my feelings. Indeed, I misled myself, and in so doing, I fear I insulted you more than you deserved.”

  She knit her brow. “Are you saying I deserved to be insulted a little bit less?”

  “No. I…” He briefly raised his gaze to the ceiling before returning it to hers. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I have spent the last two weeks looking for you, desperate to find you so I could tell you how I feel.”

  “Um…” A flicker of movement off to the side drew her attention away for a moment. Footmen and maids were returning, all of them pausing to stare. If William noticed, he showed no sign of caring. He was clearly going to embarrass her right in front of her colleagues. Tomorrow she’d have to find new employment again. The thought caused her face to heat with annoyance. “You’ve obviously taken a wrong turn somewhere, sir. Peter, would you please show this gentleman back upstairs to the parlor?”

  A young footman stepped forward. “Certainly, Mrs. Lamont.”

  Eloise started turning away but a large hand grabbed her and spun her around. She gasped, unable to comprehend how a man of William’s size could move so swiftly. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  “Please. Leave me be,” she whispered.

  His warm eyes bore into hers. “How can I?”

  “Mrs. Lamont?” Peter asked from somewhere nearby. His voice confirmed that he was prepared to act – to remove William by force the moment she asked him to do so.

  “It’s all right,” she assured the footman. “He means me no harm.”

  “Quite the contrary,” William said with a smile so wicked she knew she would never be able to face the other servants here ever again.

  “How can you do this to me?” She turned her head sideways to block out the numerous stares. “Have you no consideration for my reputation?”

  He pulled her close, assuring her that she would be forever ruined in the eyes of the people she’d worked with these past two weeks. They would wonder about the extent of her relationship with William. Clearly, he was more to her than a former employer.

  “Of course I do. It’s why I’m here.”

  She gave a small snort. “Nothing you say or do will ever convince me to be your mistress.”

  His thumb stroked across her cheek, the gentle abrasion teasing her nerves. “Then be my wife, Eloise, and let me love you with all that I am until I draw my last breath.”

  Her heart stopped. Or at least it felt like it did. All sound sank into a muted background. She struggled to draw air into her lungs. Surely she must have misheard him. “What?”

  “I love you, Eloise Lamont. I’ll admit it took longer than it should have for me to realize it. I’ve been a complete idiot where you’re concerned. It didn’t even occur to me that I could marry you until my family made me aware of the fact that—”

  Eloise drew back. Suspicion put a pause on her elation. “What did Athena tell you?”

  William blinked. “She struck me and gave me a thorough haranguing for treating you poorly.”

  “And?”

  “And that’s it. My father was actually the one who made me see that anything’s possible as long as you’re willing to face the consequences. And if marrying you means I might have to give up Society, then so much the better, I say.”

  She stared at him. “Are you certain?”

  “I’ve never been surer of anything else in my life. Good God, Eloise, you’ve no idea what I went through after I learned you were gone. I’ve suffered every day.”

  “I’m sorry. I just didn’t think we could have a proper future together.”

  “Neither did I until it occurred to me that the only thing that matters to me is you. I don’t need anything else, but without you, misery will be a guarantee. I’ll never be happy. I’ll never have children because lord knows I’ll never allow another woman to take your place. I’ll never—”

  “Yes.”

  He went utterly still. “Yes?”

  She wound her arms around his neck and rose up onto her toes to press a kiss against his lips. If he didn’t care what other people thought then neither would she. “I love you too, Mr. William Townsbridge, and nothing would delight me more than becoming your wife.”

  It was like a dream – a glorious, wonderful, perfectly orchestrated drea
m. Only it was so much better because it was real. Eloise stood before him, dressed in a wedding gown, prepared to bind herself to him forever.

  William’s heart tripled in size and leapt with joy. He’d watched his parents as he grew up, so he knew love could be obtained between husband and wife. This had later been confirmed when Charles and James had married, but William hadn’t thought he would ever enjoy such depth of emotion with a partner. He wasn’t sure why, but perhaps it was because he hadn’t been ready to do so. Until he’d walked into his parents’ kitchen and met Eloise.

  “Now repeat after me,” the vicar said, addressing William. “I, William Patrick Townsbridge, take thee, Eloise Marie Lamont, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

  William did his best not to muck up the words, but he wasn’t sure whether or not he succeeded. He was too mesmerized by Eloise’s crystal clear gaze. She smiled at him with adoration as he spoke, and then it was her turn, and suddenly it was all over and she was finally his.

  He pulled her roughly into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her as if they were somewhere alone, as if their families weren’t right there watching their every move.

  William didn’t care. Not now when Eloise was finally his. He had every right to kiss her as much as he pleased, and he’d bloody well do so no matter what.

  When she’d revealed her family history to him on the ride back to London from Dartford after giving her notice to the Bertrams, he’d been glad no one had told him sooner. Because his not knowing proved he was choosing Eloise for the woman she was regardless of her ancestry. It was clear from the way she spoke that she would never consider herself a part of the aristocracy. But it was equally apparent that she mourned the loss of relations she’d never known, especially on behalf of her mother, who’d suffered such extraordinary loss.

  “Family is of the utmost importance to me,” he’d assured her, holding her in his arms while the carriage sped toward Townsbridge House. He valued his own more than words could express. “Yours will always be welcome in our home, Eloise. And we can visit them too, at least once a year, so you can maintain your connection.”

  A heated kiss filled with gratitude and love had followed, after which they’d discussed where to settle down. If they moved to the country, they’d attract less attention, but if they settled in London, they would be closer to William’s family, and Eloise would be more able to realize her dream just as William intended. Of course, they would most likely become the center of gossip for a long time to come if they chose that route, but Eloise believed it was best to face an approaching storm head on instead of running away. William was inclined to agree, and besides, he’d already bought the house. It would be a pity to have to sell it so soon.

  “I almost wish we could skip the wedding breakfast and go straight home,” William told Eloise once they’d left the church. He’d helped her into the awaiting carriage which was now taking them straight to Townsbridge House.

  “I hope you’re joking,” Eloise said. “I prepared all the food, including the cake, myself. Do you have any idea how long it takes to make marzipan roses?”

  William chuckled in response to her outrage. “I’m sure it’s not the sort of feast I’d want to miss for any reason.”

  The corners of her lips curled upward until she was smiling at him with unabashed mischief. “It’s important to sate each hunger in the right order, William.”

  A growl was all he could manage in response to that suggestive comment. God help him, the next few hours would most likely feel like years.

  Eloise wasn’t one to gloat, but she was secretly immensely pleased with how well the food had turned out. Compliments were almost unending and she accepted each and every one with a happy, “Thank you,” until every guest had eaten a slice of cake and additional glasses of champagne had been served.

  “You were right to be upset when I suggested foregoing this,” William murmured close to her ear. A delicious tickle caressed her neck where his breath brushed her skin. “These marzipan roses are most delicious. I think I’ll have to put in a private order.”

  Eloise grinned. “I can make mint sweets as well if you like. They’re probably a bit healthier if your sweet tooth has a constant craving.”

  His arm swept around her waist to pull her against him. “By God, I do believe I’m the luckiest man on earth.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder and savored his strength. “And I am the luckiest woman to have a husband who loves her so much he’s prepared to help her open a business.”

  “The more cooks like you in the world, the happier mankind will be,” he said. “Are you ready to leave or would you like to stay a while longer?”

  “I’m ready,” she said even as her stomach twisted itself into a tight knot.

  They said their farewells and thanked everyone for wishing them well, then took their leave.

  “Are you nervous?” William asked once they reached the house where they would make their home and he’d escorted her inside. No servants had been hired yet since they’d decided to interview potential candidates together, so William served as butler, setting aside Eloise’s bonnet and gloves as she handed him each item.

  She smiled. “I was before we arrived here, but now everything just feels right. And exciting, if I’m to be completely honest.”

  Devilish glee lit his eyes. “My sentiment exactly.” He collected an object wrapped in brown paper and white satin ribbon from the hallway table. “This is for you. I bought it a while ago, right before you left for France. It was my intention to give it to you sooner, but so much else happened and I eventually decided it might make a nice wedding gift.”

  “Oh, but I don’t have anything for you.” As sweet as his gesture was, it made her feel slightly ill-prepared.

  He gave her a positively roguish smile. “You couldn’t be more mistaken. Now go on and open your gift so I can receive mine.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks as she pulled at the ribbon, loosening it until the paper parted and a book came into view. Eloise sucked in a breath as she read the title. French Landscapes in Color. Her heart fluttered about with mad anticipation as she opened it up to the first painting.

  “Oh, Will…”

  “I thought this might help bring you closer to home.” His voice was a little unsteady.

  Tears clung to her lashes. “This is my home now. Here, with you. But this book is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received, and I shall cherish it forever. Thank you so much.”

  “I will always do my utmost to make you happy, Eloise.” Plucking the book from her fingers, he returned it to the hallway table. “This book is just the beginning.”

  He moved in behind her, and his lips brushed the side of her neck. But before she was able to fully appreciate the pleasure the intimate touch wrought on her nerves, she was swept up into his arms. “Will!”

  “You taste so good,” he murmured, carrying her up the stairs, “as sweet and delectable as your pastries.”

  Her cheeks heated in response to his comment. She gripped the back of his neck. “Perhaps because I added a tiny dab of confectioner’s sugar?”

  His hands clasped her more firmly and he quickened his pace, reaching the landing with record speed. Turning left, he marched them toward the end of the hallway. “Is that a French thing, I wonder?”

  “I don’t believe so. Inspiration struck this morning when I went to check on the cake. It was very impromptu.”

  “Well, now that I know your secret, I’m even more eager to explore every inch of your body.” They’d entered the bedroom and William set her carefully on her feet, then steadied her with his hand when she wobbled slightly.

  Fire burned its way through her veins, and her heart beat with frantic anticipation. More so when she turned to meet his d
ark gaze. Her hand flattened against his chest both in reverence and in wonder. “You’re my husband.”

  It still felt like a dream – a wonderful, magical, fairy-tale romance. He was hers, forever and always, hers to discover, to share her life with, and to adore. Her hands moved to his carefully tied cravat, untying it with measured movements since savoring the unwrapping process was just as important as the gift itself.

  The length of white linen finally fell away, allowing her to pull his shirt open. A sigh swept past his lips when she traced the pad of her finger down the front of his neck and across the small dip at its base. “Eloise.”

  She unbuttoned his waistcoat next and pushed it and his jacket off his shoulders before she leaned forward and placed a hot kiss right over his heart, dampening the fine muslin of his shirt. He sucked in a breath, and his arms came around her, holding her there for a long drawn-out moment while he remained remarkably still.

  And then, as if the need for movement were a matter of life and death, his fingers were suddenly working the fastenings of her gown with lightning speed. Something tore – a seam no doubt – and they both muttered a curse. Pulling and tugging, he forced the silk and lace into compliance until she’d been divested of the hindering fabrics.

  His shirt was removed in a blur, along with her stays and chemise, and then he was kissing her fiercely while shucking his shoes, hose, trousers, and smalls. She kicked off her slippers so only her stockings remained, but when she moved to take them off, he clasped her hands and wound them about his neck.

  “Leave them,” he murmured. Upon which he lowered her onto the bed and proceeded to see to the task himself with torturous slowness. His eyes gleamed as his gaze roved over her exposed body. “If you’ll recall, you took your time with my cravat. Now it’s my turn.”

  She gasped when his fingers traced over a sensitive spot at the back of her knee, then again when his knuckles scraped the inside of her thigh, until he was done with his task and his fingers found other places to explore, at which point she sighed with exquisite pleasure.