The Contract Bride (Runaway Regency Brides Book 6)

by Regina Darcy

  After exchanging polite greetings and platitudes, the Baron went straight to the matter at hand.

  “Why?”

  “My lord?” Joshua asked politely.

  Lord Huntington’s first question after pouring him a brandy, although the hour of the morning would have seemed ill-suited to the drink, was a terse query.

  “Why Josephina? Why do you want to marry her? There’s no money, you know. No dowry. At any rate, one so small that it can’t rightly be called a dowry.”

  “Yes, I know,” Joshua replied, smiling. “I am not in need of a woman’s dowry, my lord. I have funds of my own. You need not fear for your daughter’s lifestyle. She will be my wife, and I will see to it that she maintains a manner of living which will see that she is provided with whatever she wants in her wardrobe, jewellery, and household servants.”

  “That’s more than she has now. But you haven’t answered my question. Why Josephina? Oh, she’s pretty enough, if a bit unsophisticated. I should have thought a man of your tastes would want someone a bit more . . . polished. She’s not, you know. The girls have been schooled at home; a relative, Mrs Widdoes, has tended to their education. She’s the widow of an army chaplain. Good enough schooling for girls. If I’d had a son, well, it would have been a different matter.”

  Instantly, Joshua took a dislike to the man and the indifferent way with which he referred to his daughters as if they were a burden rather than a blessing.

  It made the brandy taste rather rancid going down his throat.

  However, there was nothing to add to his response.

  Joshua could have told his future father-in-law that his daughters deserved an education just as a son would have, or that daughters ought not to be treated as though they were inferior. However, it was not his place to interfere on Josephina’s behalf. She was to be his wife, but he did not think it wise to entangle himself in her father’s outdated views, not when it gained him no advantage.

  After all, Joshua was not their father or guardian.

  Tabitha’s father had had, unfortunately, much the same point of view regarding women. It had not left Tabitha unscathed, likely Josephina bore similar scars.

  “Why?” Lord Huntington barked out the query this time like a belligerent dog who felt that a bone was being kept from him. “Why do you want to marry my daughter?”

  Joshua had an amiable countenance.

  He smiled easily and often. But amiability did not mean that he was a fool.

  “Why not, my lord?” he replied unperturbed.

  Lord Huntington made a gesture of impatience as he waved angrily over the papers on his desk.

  “You’re a worldly man, Hendrickson. Well-travelled, a guest in the finest houses in England. In Europe, I daresay. If you’re thinking to turn your home into one of those French salons where people gather to discuss culture, it won’t happen with Josephina at the head of the table, I tell you. She’s not a stupid girl, but she’s a girl. I shouldn’t think she has a political or cultural thought in her head. Like any girl, she thinks of suitors and balls. You’ll find yourself embarrassed, no doubt, in front of your fine friends.”

  “You cast unkind aspersions on both your daughter and my friends, my lord,” Joshua said with an unwavering smile and blue eyes that seemed to have suddenly acquired a glint of steel.

  He may not have known Josephina well, but he was not about to sit there and let her be insulted, not as someone whose courage he admired, and certainly not as his future wife. Whilst his future father-in-law may have been entitled to his opinions, it did not give him the right to speak ill of his daughters, and in the company of a man who did not know them.

  “You’re young.” Lord Huntington dismissed his comment with another wave of his fingers. It sent several pages of correspondence fluttering to the floor.

  “Young men think with their eyes. How will you handle the disappointment when she proves to be less than you expected? Pretty, yes, she’s that, all the girls are . . . but a pretty wife doesn’t guarantee that she’ll give you a son. Girls are born at a cost, you know. There’s the dowry, for one thing. The expense of a coming out. The gowns. There’s a lot of money that goes into the frippery that’s attached to marrying off a daughter. You haven’t thought of that.”

  “Are sons exempt from familial expense?”

  The hands flew again over the papers.

  Joshua watched with interest to see if more would fall. None did, at least not this time. But several were in a precarious position at the edge of the desk and were likely to be in flight, he suspected, with the next agitated draft of air occasioned by his lordship’s gesture.

  “But it’s worth it for a son,” Lord Huntington explained urgently.

  “Worth it?”

  “Yes, of course. A son must be educated; he must be taught to be a gentleman; he must have the right horses, the proper wardrobe, so that he may take his place in society. A woman does not enter government or manage an estate. She marries and has children and plays hostess, but she has no significant role to play in what matters.

  Does a woman take a seat in Parliament?

  Lead an army?

  Explore the globe?

  You see my point, surely, Hendrickson,” Lord Huntington said, his head and shoulders stooped over his desk as he spoke with urgency. “Women . . .”

  It was a most bizarre and yet revealing argument, Joshua thought. When he had come courting he had expected many things, but none of his expectations included a debate on the worth of a daughter.

  How had Josephina survived this madhouse?

  “Joan of Arc led an army,” he pointed out in a meticulous, deliberate fashion. “As did Boadicea. Quite successfully, too, although each came to a tragic end. We were ruled by the great Elizabeth.”

  The papers drifted across the desk from the current of air created by Lord Huntington’s motion.

  “Different times, Hendrickson. Those women were the exception. In order for the world to run properly, as it’s meant to run, a man must have sons.”

  There was something almost manic about Lord Huntington’s obsession with the subject. Joshua felt a twinge of sorrow for Miss Darling, growing up with an overbearing father who seemed to despise the sex of his offspring.

  He tried to make light of the subject.

  “The progeny of marriage are in God’s hands, surely.”

  “Then pray, Hendrickson,” Lord Huntington advised. “Pray with all your might. I’m told that you are friends with the Archbishop. Have him pray for sons for you. He’s in the business. His prayers ought to carry more weight with God.”

  “I would not say that the Archbishop and I are friends, precisely. I funded a building project for Canterbury Cathedral a year or so ago, that’s all.”

  “Then he owes you a favour,” Lord Huntington exclaimed. “Claim it! Do not be too proud to remind him of his debt. Yes, an archbishop, that ought to do the trick. I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear this, Hendrickson,” Lord Huntington said, sitting back in his chair as if he had been relieved of a great burden. “If you have a son, then I can leave Huntington Green to him. Do you see? It will all be resolved.”

  “I . . . see,” Joshua answered.

  Joshua did not in fact, see. Nor did he agree with Lord Huntington’s rather antiquated views of the world. But he did not wish to agitate his future father-in-law further, for clearly Lord Huntington had a lot to say regarding the matter, and would not hesitate to impart his supposed wisdom upon anyone with earshot.

  “The girls do not know this, and I expect you to keep it to yourself. Do I have your word?”

  “Eh, yes,” Joshua replied. He was starting to worry that the Baron was actually a lunatic.

  “The barony, when it was drawn up, was to be inherited by “heirs general”. I am sure a commoner like you does not know what it entails, suffice to say one of the girls will inherit the title.” The Baron sounded bitter.

  “I will ensure it is Josephina if you sire a son.
Once he is grown, he will be a baron in his own right.”

  Joshua frowned. What man would deny his own daughters what was rightfully theirs just because they were not of the male gender?

  “You’ll send my grandson to the best schools, of course. Eton, that’s where my family have always gone. Oxford, of course. Tutors for fencing, riding . . . he must have all the proper training for his station,” the Baron continued.

  “I come from a family that believes in educating both sons and daughters. Regrettably, I had no siblings, but many of my female cousins and aunts are very well educated. One of my Aunts, for example, studied medicine. ”

  “Waste of money,” Lord Huntington muttered. “What did she do with it? Married, I suppose?”

  “Sadly, she died when I was a boy.”

  Lord Huntington seized upon this. “That’s another flaw in daughters. They die rather often. Childbirth, that sort of thing. They’re not up to it.”

  “That’s a most preposterous statement, Lord Huntington!” Joshua burst out before he could allow discretion to silence him. “Although women all too tragically die giving birth, it is through no fault of their own. Our medical science has not discerned the cause.”

  “Cause? Women aren’t very strong, you must know that. Therefore, they die. Lady Huntington was brought to bed with a son, but the infant died. She survived.”

  It would seem that his statement disproved his assertion that women were weak, but the subject had become distasteful to Joshua, and he did not wish to prolong the discussion.

  He feared they would simply go round and round in circles, further fanning the flames of Lord Huntington’s obsession whilst leaving agitate. This was not the way to leave a house were one was courting.

  Barely able to hide his irritation, he decided to change the subject.

  However, Lord Huntington had already found another topic to obsess about.

  “No siblings, you say? No brothers, sisters? Family?”

  “I am sorry to say, none. My extended family does not reside in London.”

  This did not appear to displease Lord Huntington. “No one to invite to the wedding luncheon, then.”

  “No one,” Joshua said as comprehension dawned. “But of course, I shall be delighted to furnish the meal.”

  “Oh, my cook will manage. Nothing fancy, mind you, we live very simply. Not at all as you are accustomed to, but as I have already warned you, Josephina is unused to elegance. She’s unlikely to know how to plan the menus. You’d best have your cook continue with the task, or Josephina will only embarrass you.”

  “If there is nothing further to discuss, my lord,” Joshua said, rising from his chair, abruptly bringing the conversation to a halt before Lord Huntington said something else that made Joshua angry and irritated on Josephina’s behalf. “I have your permission to marry your daughter?”

  “I suppose so, if that’s what you want to do. It’s not for me to deny you. As long as you don’t expect a dowry.”

  “I expect nothing, sir.”

  Neither the title nor the estate would influence Joshua either way. His family had enough wealth that both were of little consequence.

  “Nor should you expect money from me to educate daughters,” Lord Huntington added. “If you wish to throw your money away, that’s your affair, but I won’t be a party to it.”

  “Educating my daughters and sons would never be money thrown away, my lord,” Joshua replied, coolly but decisively.

  He offered Lord Huntington a quick bow, then hurried out before the urge to shake some sense into the brute of a man overtook him, and he would find himself having to apologise for losing his composure.

  He was back in his carriage, the details of the wedding arranged, before he realised that he had forgotten there would be no sons or daughters born to this marriage.

  Lord Huntington had entirely driven that fact from his mind.

  The man was not right in the head.

  Joshua raked his hand through his hair. The sooner he married Josephina and got her away from her father’s ill-nature, the better off she would be.

  Even a sham marriage was preferable to a travesty of fatherhood.

  FIVE

  Joshua accepted the presence of Mrs Widdoes as chaperone when he arrived at the Darling house to take Josephina for a stroll in the park closest to the Darlings’ London residence. Mrs Widdoes, the very picture of propriety in her sedate grey, walked several paces behind them, but close enough to ensure that their conversation was proper and readily overheard.

  “Your father has acquainted you with the details of the wedding, I trust?” Joshua inquired.

  It was a rather breezy day, and Josephina’s free hand was occupied in keeping her bonnet from being tossed back from her head. But she didn’t seem to mind fighting the elements; in fact, Joshua thought that she rather liked the blustery day.

  Her hazelnut eyes sparkled with delight as the leaves danced before them in scattered patterns upon the ground.

  “Yes,” she answered. “He told me that we will marry in three weeks’ time. I’m afraid Mother was hoping the Archbishop would perform the service, but Father explained to her that this was not the case.”

  “What of you, Miss Darling? Would you have liked to have the Archbishop marry us?”

  “I don’t care who does the deed, as long as it is not Mr Ruckner,” she said with a shudder.

  Behind them, Mrs Widdoes gave a remonstrative cough.

  “I do not think that it would be proper for your former suitor to marry you off,” Joshua said gravely, although he found Josephina’s reaction amusing. “Your father will arrange for that, I assume?”

  “Yes. He says he’ll see to it that the clergyman doesn’t take too long. He doesn’t expect the luncheon to take long either. He says we ought to be finished before tea time.’

  “I see. Then we shall be. Because the holidays are so soon upon us, I have not made arrangements for a honeymoon. I hope you will pardon me. But I thought you might prefer to settle into your new home and see to the decorating instead.”

  “Decorating?”

  “Yes, you may wish to change things. It has been my townhouse for some years, however I don’t have any objection if you wish to change things: rugs, furniture, draperies, that sort of thing.”

  “Oh, but I have no idea, that is . . .” She stopped abruptly on the path, so suddenly that Mrs Widdoes came up behind her and trod on her dress.

  “I’ve never thought of such a thing,” she said frowning. “I don’t suppose anything has been changed at Huntington Green since I was born.”

  “You shall decide,” Joshua said firmly. It made little difference to him if she wanted to order new furnishings. If her taste was entirely execrable, then he would intervene with an opinion, but otherwise, she could have a free hand. “Also . . .I thought we might invite your family to our home for Christmas Day.”

  “Father will have everyone back to the country for Christmas,” Josephina said with a regretful sigh. “He won’t want to dally in London after the wedding.”

  “I have prevailed upon your father to extend his stay briefly, until after the holidays,” Joshua told her. It was not necessary to tell her that he had offered to finance the extended sojourn in London and to pay for the hiring of the carriage that would take the family back to their country estate after the holidays.

  “I think you may wish to spend time with your sisters before they leave for the Academy.”

  “Academy? What academy? Sylvia and Maria have said nothing of this.”

  “Perhaps your father has not told them yet.”

  “But Father doesn’t believe in female education. He has said so many times that it is a waste of money.”

  “It is not a waste of money. Education is not wasted. I explained to your father that at the Young Ladies Academy, your sisters would meet other young ladies who are sisters to wellborn gentlemen. Such acquaintance will lead to visits and possibly, in time, to marriage. It would be a
shame to deprive your sisters of this opportunity.”

  After his initial conversation with Lord Huntington, he had spent the entire carriage ride back with a sense of guilt gnawing on the inside of his stomach, the knowledge that he was capable of helping two young ladies for the sake of Josephina impressing upon him. Besides, if they were anything like their older sister, and he suspected they were, then the world was better off with them being given every favourable opportunity possible.

  “But there’s no money for such . . . ” She stopped again and stared at Joshua, lifting her chin so that the broad brim of her hat did not hide him from her view. “Did you offer to pay for their education Mr Hendrickson?” she asked in an incredulous whisper.

  He had already paid for it but did not think it fair for Josephina to be made uncomfortable at the disclosure.

  “Your father and I discussed it, and he came to agree,” Joshua said. “Careful, there’s a puddle.”

  No, he did not think Josephina would approve of such an expenditure on her behalf, but he had been happy to do it nonetheless, even without her knowledge. And he knew that it was the right thing to do based on the sparkle that sprung up in her eyes mixed with fear and caution.

  Yes, he could sense that she wondered about his overly generous nature, but she was too proper to ask. At least not in the presence of her chaperone, and unlikely before they were wed. However, he doubted her pride would let her ignore it for too long.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, too late, as she stepped into the puddle.

  “I’m afraid your feet will get wet. Should we turn back?”

  “Oh, no,” Josephina said. “I don’t mind. It’s such a lovely day.”

  “Lovely? The breeze is chilly, and the leaves are falling so fast I believe they shall be entirely bare before our wedding day.”

  “Oh, but it’s always lovelier outdoors. Do you have a garden?”

  “I—yes, there is a garden at my house.”

  “I do love flowers,” she said.

  “There aren’t any flowers now,” he reminded her.