A Lady Compromised (The Ladies)

by Pennington, Ava

  “Oh my god.”

  “Do not think on it, my love. You are safe now.”

  “I hate him.”

  “I know. You are not alone.”

  “No, I hate him. I will kill him myself,” Delia said. “He is a lying fiend and he terrified Harriet. I will shoot him through his black heart.”

  “And I will be there to assist you,” Mason said soothingly, certain she did not truly mean it, though he was hard pressed to disagree. “You are not yourself,” he said, drawing her out of the tub and into a warm towel in front of the fire. “And now, my precious, beloved, almost-wife, Lady Delia, are you ready for bed?”

  She nodded but clung to him.

  “Do not leave me.”

  “I never will.”

  He lay next to her in the bed until her soft weeping had ceased and her gentle breathing resumed. He was afraid to leave her, for fear she would wake in a nightmare and find him gone. Though he hated to sleep next to her after promising he would not do so again until they were wed, he knew it was for the best.

  He drew a soft cotton nightgown over her head and suppressed the raging lust that had been tearing at him all through the bath and now was more powerful than ever. He dropped a kiss on her forehead and then her lips as he pulled the covers to her chin.

  “Sleep, my love,” he said. “Tomorrow we will be wed.”

  Lady Harriet, too, was in the bath, but she was weeping with the terror of a young woman whose first experience with a man seeing her semi-clothed had been one of violence and terror. Worst of all, the incomparable Earl of Blackwell had been there to see her as well. And if she had for the past few months nurtured a tendre for him, when he had rescued her from that vile basement, she knew she loved him.

  At this realization, Lady Harriet could not imagine what she would do when she next saw him. How could she recover after the man she had adored had seen her abysmally chubby body semi-clothed? Her mortification was complete. She was deeply ashamed to reflect on how clear it was that the evil Mr. Rosewood had desired her curvy body and that he had no interest whatsoever in Lady Delia.

  Proper gentlemen did not like women who were built like her, Lady Harriet reflected miserably. Her curves were for mistresses and courtesans only. Not that the Earl of Blackwell would ever desire her. She was too unsophisticated, even if she hadn’t been far to plump. She was not the type of person to attract the Earl. She wept fiercely, thinking the man she adored would never love her now. Not after seeing her exposed flesh, not after witnessing her ugly tearstained face, not after Christopher Rosewood made it clear that her vulgar curves marked her as unfit for anyone but a criminal.

  She resolved to go on a reducing regime like the kinds she had read about in ladies’ journals. One simply ate cabbage and dry toast and she would soon be as slender and svelte as Lady Delia. It would not help her with the humiliation of her hopeless love for Lord Blackwell, but she would simply avoid him henceforth. He had rescued her, but unlike in romantic novels like Annabelle’s Adventures, she had been dirty, exposed, terrified and crying. It was nothing like a book. Nothing at all.

  Chapter 38

  The Marquess’ original plan to marry Lady Delia by special license the day after she and Harriet were rescued from Christopher Rosewood’s was dashed after he received a call from his solicitor, Mr. Jarndyce. News of Mr. Rosewood’s attempt to force a marriage on Lady Delia, combined with his pretense at being her guardian, had led the lady’s actual guardian and the current Earl to send word that the Lady Delia was to be entrusted to the care of Lady Anne Burke until the Earl returned. It was completely out of the question for a marriage to occur prior to his arrival in England, nor was such a match to be countenanced absent a private audience with both the lady and her intended fiancé with the new Earl. This news from Mr. Jarndyce did not please Lord Durham, nor did he relish having to tell the Lady Delia that she must once again leave his personal protection.

  The additional problem of his sister was weighing on Lord Durham’s mind as he finalized the meeting with his solicitor. Lady Harriet, he could tell, was deeply traumatized by the events of the past week, which did not surprise him, but for the first time in his life, Mason Broadstone, Marquess of Durham, had absolutely no idea how to reassure her. He sighed as he rose, showing Mr. Jarndyce out, and climbed the stairs to approach Lady Delia about an additional delay.

  As he knocked on the door to her private sitting room, Amelia announced him and then immediately withdrew. Lady Delia was sitting in a cozy armchair, near the fire, smiling up at him as she read a letter.

  “Mason!” she said with delight as she made to stand up, “I did not expect you to visit me! I thought you were meeting with Mr. Jarndyce.”

  “My darling,” Lord Durham replied, “No, do not get up.” He walked to sit in a chair adjacent to hers, also close to the fire, but before sitting, elected to scoop up Lady Delia, blankets and all, and bring her to his lap. She giggled.

  “Oh my! Are you sure this is quite proper? I believe it is not,” said Lady Delia as she wrapped her arms around her betrothed, letter still in hand.

  “That has never proven a disincentive in the past,” Lord Durham replied as he kissed her lips. “My dear,” he said soberly, “I have some slightly unpleasant news.”

  She frowned and kissed him again. “What could that possibly be?”

  “We shall not be married today, my sweet.”

  To his surprise, Lady Delia did not appear shocked or saddened, but actually smiled. Snuggling up to his chest, she sighed and traced his face with a tapered forefinger.

  “Well, I have to say I cannot mind the delay. In fact, a wedding in such a hurley-burley fashion, today, seemed rather counterproductive given our efforts to rehabilitate my reputation, does it not? Now that the threat is gone, I am happy to announce our engagement at the ball next week given by Lady Burke. And it will give me time to have something suitable to wear. And some time for Lady Harriet to recover. I am afraid, Mason, that she is far more distressed than I could hope.”

  “On that point,” he answered, “I must agree. Have you spoken to her? I am afraid that she is wanting something in the way of female conversation, as opposed to mine, my love.”

  “I agree. I sent word that I wished to visit her chambers but her maid responded that she was sleeping and I cannot disturb her when she must be so dearly in need of rest.”

  “Do let me know what you can find out from her when she awakens,” Lord Durham requested.

  “I will. And now should you like to tell me why we are not to married today, though it comes as positive news to me?”

  “It appears that, after the disgraceful behavior of the one who purported to be your guardian, your guardian in fact, the new Lord Ellsworth, is unwilling to grant permission for your nuptials without interviewing both parties.”

  “Well I must admit that seems like very proper thinking!” Lady Delia responded. “And I should be pleased to meet my cousin. I have not seem him since before he left when he was barely eighteen.”

  “How strange that he was packed off abroad, as your father’s heir?”

  “But my dear he was not, at the time, my father’s heir,” explained Lady Delia. “It was to be his older brother and dear Augustine fled England to ‘make his fortune’ as he put it. Though, papa told me later that it was because he refused to join the army as his father would have preferred and rather than permit him to go up to Oxford, his father threw him out! It was rather shocking and disagreeable. When his older brother died, my uncle did write to him to come home, but still furious over his treatment, he refused. I suppose it is only the fact that he is now the Earl that is bringing him home. He was always rather strong-willed.”

  “I hope that strong will does not manifest itself in postponing our impending nuptials.”

  “I am sure it will not! It seems that my cousin’s only wish is to prevent any further detriment to me, as lapses in proper guardianship seem to have plagued me!” she giggled as her fingers
pulled at his cravat. “A proper guardian,” she continued huskily, “would not permit his ward to sit on the lap of her intended before they were legally wed.”

  “And you are correct,” he said, coughing slightly at the catch in his throat, “though he seems to be remarkably reasonable in his demand that his ward remain with her current custodian, Lady Anne Burke, until the date of her nuptials.”

  Lady Delia sighed as she moved on the Marquess’ lap, from sitting across his legs to straddling them and her betrothed’s entire body stilled. “I was afraid of that,” she whispered into his mouth as she moved her chest closer to his and revealed that under the blankets she wore only a nightgown.

  Mason struggled only briefly before scooping up his future wife in his arms and, carrying her to the door to lock it, shortly deposited her into the bed, cursing again at his perpetual mistake at wearing boots while visiting her bedchamber. Lady Delia, delightedly watching the struggle, removed her nightgown of her own accord.

  “It’s an incentive, my beloved,” she said as she knelt on the bed in front of him. “To hurry and get undressed, and to remember not to wear boots in my bedchamber.” Then she smiled a secret smile and added, “And to remind you of what you will be missing when I leave for Lady Burke’s for one week.”

  Mason, for his part, elected not to remove his boots and breeches at all. He tore off his coat and cravat and shirt, dragged Delia to the edge of the bed by her ankle, and proceeded to demonstrate the removal of boots is rather optional when one is making love to one’s future wife.

  Epilogue

  On the night of Lady Burke’s ball announcing the engagement of Lady Delia Ellsworth to Mason Broadstone, Marquess of Durham, the Lady Delia sat in a study at her hostess’ house in the early afternoon with her betrothed and her guardian, Augustine Harcourt, new Earl of Ellsworth. Wearing the green silk and lace gown she had worn on her first day of meeting the ton, so as to assure her guardian she had been extremely well cared-for, Lady Delia smiled with delight as her future husband and cousin discussed her upcoming nuptials.

  “Can I at least be assured, my dear Augustine, that you do approve of my choice?” Lady Delia asked her cousin, whose tanned, blonde good looks contrasted so vibrantly with the dark hair and eyes of her beloved. She did not believe she had ever seen an Englishman quite so brown as her cousin Augustine.

  “I confess I was concerned only that you had become engaged to him purely due to the will of your father,” her cousin replied. “At once, Durham disabused me of that notion, and I can say I have no objection whatsoever. Though, I only wish I had more duties to discharge as a guardian. I admit my presence is not required for quite the disastrous cleanup I had feared once I heard of the nefarious Mr. Rosewood’s actions.”

  “That ghastly, disastrous creature is out of our lives, Augustine,” said Lady Delia with remarkable good humor.

  “Prison would have been an excellent choice for him, but I would also accept hanging,” said Durham, with substantially less good humor.

  “It’s my understanding that all parties will need to give testimony against him, including myself—please forgive me for I am disturbingly ignorant of the criminal law process in my native country—and I am at the mercy of my own solicitor,” The Earl of Ellsworth began.

  “It’s quite useless, I can assure you, to pursue that route,” Durham interrupted. “I deposited him at the docks to be transported. There is no need for testimony, particularly testimony that would be distressing to Lady Delia and my dear sister.”

  “Are you quite sure?” Lord Ellsworth asked. “It does seem rather medieval.”

  “Our criminal statutes are indeed medieval, Ellsworth,” the Marquess replied. “He could stay here, and be executed by hanging, after all of us appear at some ghastly ‘trial’ or I could just arrange for a one direction visit to Melbourne for Mr. Rosewood. I took it upon myself to make the most expeditious decision.”

  “As I could scarcely consider it expeditious to have two young ladies testifying in public about a horrifying kidnapping, I must congratulate you on preventing such an eventuality, Lord Durham,” the new Earl summed up.

  “Well, then,” the Marquess said, looking up from his writing desk, “that should conclude our meeting. The marriage settlements have been signed and we shall announce the engagement tonight and be married the Thursday next, which is after exactly three weeks of banns. Lord Ellsworth will give away the bride. Is there anything else to discuss this afternoon, or shall we permit Lady Delia to repair to her chamber to ready herself for this evening’s ball in her honor?”

  “I believe that everything is in order,” answered Lord Ellsworth, gathering up the paperwork on which the signatures and seals had been placed. “I will have these deposited and copied with our solicitors and the funds will be transferred as directed.”

  “Then I am not to be sold, after all?” teased Lady Delia, at her cousin’s statement.

  “Nay, my dear ward,” Ellsworth replied. “The funds from your dowry are to be deposited under your own name with the Marquess’ London Bank, as per both parties’ request.”

  “It’s not as if I don’t trust you, my lord,” laughed Lady Delia, “But only that I insist on being able to purchase things for my husband without his knowledge. If he saw the bills…he would know about all those cravats he shall soon be receiving.”

  “You are, as usual, impertinent beyond belief,” said the Marquess, taking her hand and bowing over it for a kiss. “Thank you, Lord Ellsworth, for permission to marry your ward. It has been a most pleasant meeting and I look forward to seeing you this evening.”

  “As do I,” replied Lord Ellsworth. “Your servant, my lady,” he said as he bowed out of the room to leave for his own quarters. Having not given notice to open up Ellsworth House in town, Lady Delia’s guardian was staying with an old friend of his father, Lord Bickenworth.

  “After this afternoon, my love,” said Mason to Delia, “There will be no going back.”

  “You keep saying that, future husband,” replied Delia, “In fact, you’ve said that to me on multiple occasions, my lord. The first night you spent at my house in Charles Street. The one we spent together at Durham House—“

  “Perhaps I am simply so insecure that I need constant affirmation that you intend to be my Marchioness?”

  “I don’t believe that, my lord,” said Delia, her arms around his waist.

  “No?”

  “I believe you are telling me that because you are telling yourself that there is no turning back. You know quite well that I am committed to remaining your wife, even if you grow as fat as the Prince Regent.”

  “I never want to turn back. But I will never become as fat as that! I do not run to fat, if you have not noticed.”

  “I have known you less than a twelve-month! Which is hardly a period over which I can properly judge! Perhaps you were an obese child? And I have still yet to observe you eating asparagus. That itself might lead to a request for a separation, were I not so committed to you.”

  “Ah, my love, it is unfortunate that you are so committed. My method of spooning consommé will cause you to wish for a permanent relocation to Egypt.”

  “Egypt! Never. I am terrified of camels.”

  “You could marry the Pharaoh and become the next Cleopatra.”

  “My adorable future husband, can you not know that Egypt does not have Pharaohs anymore? And I am marrying you. So, pray, do get used to the idea.”

  The Marquess feigned a sigh and pulled her close to his chest for a kiss.

  “Shall we get ready for the ball?”

  “We shall, my love.”

  The End

  And then…will Lady Harriet recover from her terrifying abduction? Will she find love with her beautiful Earl of Blackwell or will another claim her heart?

  Read the prologue of the next book in The Ladies series, A Lady’s Education….available March, 2014.

  A Lady’s Education

  Prologue

/>   London, 1811

  At the ball given for her brother, the Marquess of Durham, announcing his engagement to the beautiful Lady Delia Ellsworth, Lady Harriet Broadstone, sister of the Marquess, danced precisely two dances. Though she was only sixteen and not yet out of the schoolroom, her elder brother had graciously granted permission for her to attend the ball during the engagement’s announcement and to dance two dances before she was sent home with her governess, Miss Henry. It was Lady Harriet’s opinion that her sibling’s graciousness was rather more of an imposition, given that she had only recently endured a brief but terrifying kidnapping in the company of her future sister-in-law, and found large public spaces somewhat terrifying. But the larger reason for her fear was that she would encounter her rescuer from that frightening debacle, the urbane and sophisticated Earl of Blackwell, best friend to her brother.

  This man, whom Lady Harriet had always admired from afar as an untouchable and beautiful dandy of ton, had surprised her. He had dropped his Exquisite façade and rushed to cover her torn gown with his own, beautiful coat of deep blue superfine wool and had, to her great surprise, begged to carry her out of that hideous cellar as she had wept uncontrollably. Unless she was quite mistaken, Lady Harriet had witnessed the famously drawling and disinterested Earl express a physical human emotion. It had turned the perfectly carved curves of his face, so much like a Greek statue, expressly temporal. And, immediately, all the blood had drained from her head and the breath escaped from her body at seeing him gaze down at her with such fear and concern. She had nearly fainted dead away, if she hadn’t first been weeping with vexation and mortification at the fact that she was half naked and covered with dirt.

  And it was now this man whom she was supposed to look in the face in front of all of the ton in Lady Burke’s ballroom! She must do all this without melting in humiliation or gazing at the Earl with cow-eyed adoration, both of which were distinct possibilities.