A Marriage Made in Mayfair

by Gill, Tamara

  She frowned then turned back to the breakfast room, annoyed further by her brother as he spooned large mouthfuls of ham into his unrepentant mouth.

  “Get up. You’re coming with me and you’ll help me have Lord Danning freed. I know your desire to punish him has led to his current situation. You were raised as a gentleman, Henry. Father would be sorely disappointed in you, first, for gambling, and second, for being such an arse as to send a man to prison without a care.”

  Henry’s fork clattered to the table. “I will not help you free him. Had it not been me, it would have been someone else who placed him in his current situation. Anyway, why should you care? I thought your infatuation with Lord Danning was over. Did you not play with him this last season, securing your own shallow revenge?” Henry sipped his coffee, brows raised mockingly. “I am not the only one who has succeeded in their game, it would seem.”

  Suzanna allowed guilt to swamp her. What Henry said was indeed true. She had allowed her temper to get the better of her. She had led Royce on a merry chase and tricked him into believing she welcomed his attentions when all along she wanted to cause him pain and humiliation.

  But it had not been long before his charm, apology, and his constant attention towards her had broken away the stone that surrounded her heart and allowed it to beat once more. She had fallen in love with him again but only to turn her back on him when he needed her the most. For Royce to go to prison instead of jumping into a marriage with one of the multitude of heiresses gracing town proved beyond any doubts his love was true.

  He loved her.

  A smile quirked her lips. “I’m marrying Lord Danning, Henry. Today I will figure out a way to release his lordship and then I’m going to Gretna Green. Don’t try and stop me or I will box you about the ears like I wish to.”

  Henry stood and threw down his napkin. “The hell you will, Suzanna. I forbid it.”

  With clenched teeth, Suzanna glared. “I doubt Victoria will be at all pleased the man she thought she knew and loved could act in such a callous manner. To first place a gentleman in debtor’s prison—a gentleman, might I add, who Victoria counts as a friend—then to let him rot there without mentioning it to me is unpardonable especially when you are in a position to free him.

  “Secondly, Victoria will not be at all pleased her best friend and closest confidante will end heartbroken because of an elder sibling who is too pigheaded to allow her to marry the man she loves. Perhaps I was wrong in voicing my approval of you to her, especially as Mr. Swinson has been chasing her skirts all season.” Suzanna tapped her chin. “American he may be, but...perhaps he is a more suitable alliance for her family after all.”

  “Go,” Henry said, his face turning a pasty shade of white at her threat. “In my desk you’ll find the blunt to pay off the warden and free Lord Danning. It would be best, I think if you retired to Lord Danning’s country estate until next season. I will ensure no word of you freeing Lord Danning reaches the matron’s wagging tongues.” A pained expression crossed Henry’s face. “Damn it. I’m coming with you. If you’re to marry the blackguard, let me give you respectability until you leave London.”

  “Sounds quite perfect,” Suzanna said, smiling. “I do love you, Henry, never doubt my affections for you but you must let me lead my own life. And no matter what you think I will be happy.”

  Suzanna turned and marched toward the library, the snort of disbelief the only reply she received. Never mind; he would forgive her and eventually accept Lord Danning as family.

  It may take some months or perhaps years, but it would occur. “Marshalsea Prison,” she yelled out to the coachman a few minutes later, her pocket a great deal heavier with coin.

  “Right you are, Miss March.”

  Suzanna smiled at the coachman’s dubious look at her brother and wondered what other facial expression he could produce when she led Lord Danning out of the prison, and commanded him to Gretna.

  It was certainly something to look forward to.

  She chuckled.

  Chapter Eleven

  Royce looked about the long, rectangular courtyard. The cold from the stone walls, starved of sunlight and allowed dampness to settle on his clothes. Clothes that after a month smelled more putrid than some of the inlets off the Thames.

  He watched a woman collect water from the prison’s only water supply, a hand pump in the middle of the courtyard, and sighed. His life was a disaster although no one at least could say he did not honour his debts.

  It was some consolation that his stay here would be of a short duration. His steward had assured him only last week the crops were looking healthy and almost ready for harvesting. With the money due in from the sale of his private home in Rome, Henry March would be paid off, and his time in Marshalsea would be over. If only his investment in the East India Company and the Indiaman Arniston would dock safely and profitably, his stay would be even shorter.

  The sound of the metal gates opening brought his attention toward the forecourt. Royce watched a turnkey escort a hooded figure into the prison—another poor soul unable to pay their way in society. He looked away and prayed the harvest would come soon and with it his release. Prison life, he’d found, did not suit his temperament nor standard of living at all.

  “Lord Danning, you have a visitor.”

  Royce stood and the blood drained from his face. “Suzanna, what in God’s name are you doing here? This is no place for a lady.”

  She looked like an angel, but some of the spark in her green orbs dimmed when she gazed upon the shoeless child playing around his mother’s skirt. “I’ve come to apologize on behalf of my brother and myself. I was not told you were here.”

  He clasped her hand. Her soft skin mocked him over a lifestyle lost. Well, not for long. He had fallen low to be sure, but he was determined to pull himself out of this financial mess. “You have nothing to apologize for, Suzanna. My family’s situation is my burden to bear.”

  “That may be so,” she said, pulling him to sit beside her on the bench. “But I feel the actions of our brothers, mine in particular, have positioned you where you are this day. I am sorry for it.”

  Royce smiled and breathed in her clean scent. Suzanna smelled fresh, her skin porcelain white, yet her cheeks had a rosy hue from the cold yard in which they sat. “I do thank you for coming but you should leave. I would hate for you to catch a chill on my account.”

  “Lord Danning,” she said, gazing at him in seriousness. “What you said that day in my brother’s library about being in love with me. Was it true?”

  Royce frowned. “Do not doubt me, Suzanna. Every word I spoke was true, is still true. I so love you and think of you often.” She was his first thought in the morning and the last one at night.

  Tears welled in her emerald orbs, and Royce had an overwhelming urge to comfort her. But he did not. The last thing Suzanna needed at this moment was a comforting hug from a man who reeked of the cesspit.

  “I do not doubt you, Royce, and I’m glad to hear you were in earnest. Now,” she said, standing, “come, gather whatever you wish to take. We have a carriage waiting.”

  Royce looked up at her and wondered for a moment if the love of his life had lost her wits since walking through the prison gates. “I cannot leave, Suzanna. I have debts still to pay and some months yet to serve. As much as I would love to flee with you, you must see ‘tis not possible.”

  “Yes it is,” she said, pulling her kid leather gloves back on, a twinkle of mischief in her gaze. “I’ve paid the turnkey a sizable sum, of which I’m sure he is informing the warden at this moment. Your debts with my brother no longer stand. So when you’re ready you are free to go.”

  Royce watched Suzanna stroll off toward the exit and then quickly caught up to her determined strides. “I will not allow you to pay my debts and free me. That is not the way of a gentleman.”

  She nodded then surprised him by leaning forward and kissing him full on the lips. Heat stole through his body at the gest
ure and it took all of his control not to clasp her tight against him and cover her in all his grime.

  “And I refuse to allow the man I love to rot in prison due to two brothers who should’ve known better. I know you are not entirely responsible for your family’s debt. Our brothers are to blame, and I will not allow my future husband to sit in Marshalsea because of it. Must I wait months to wed you? Of course, if it would make you feel any better you may pay me back with interest.” She quirked her lips and strolled off again.

  How he loved her. A strong, determined little minx was his Suzanna, and she would marry him. Had said she loved him. Never before had he wanted to exclaim his joy in front of all and sundry. “So you will marry me, Miss March?” Royce yelled out.

  “Of course,” she said over her shoulder before stopping to wait for him. “But if you do not hurry up, Lord Danning, I may change my mind.”

  Royce laughed, caught up to Suzanna, and kissed her soundly. The sound of laughter and jibes from the other prisoners soon faded, replaced by the undeniable passion and love that sang between them.

  He reluctantly pulled away and went to collect his meagre belongings before joining Suzanna at the gate. “We will go to your brother directly. I will demand he give us his blessings and we’ll be married immediately.”

  “There’s no need. I’ve already told Henry I’m going to marry you with or without his approval. And I’m not going home in any case. We’re for Gretna. Henry, in fact, is headed home right at this moment and sending my maid to meet up with us along the way. Your valet will be with her when they arrive.”

  “Gretna?” Royce followed her to the enclosed carriage parked before the prison and handed his bag to the waiting coachman. “What are you up to, Suzanna?”

  “Nothing too scandalous, I promise you. We’re for Gretna, where you’ll marry me with the help of a smithy and his anvil.”

  Royce helped Suzanna climb into the carriage and followed her, seating himself beside her on the squabs. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes. Very. Now, make yourself comfortable, we have over three hundred miles to travel.” She scrunched up her nose. “However, at the first opportunity we will find an inn for you to wash.”

  Royce laughed and clasped her hand, wondering if the rest of his life would be as full of surprise. He found himself in awe of the wondrous woman who sat beside him. Somehow he knew life would never be dull.

  ***

  It took only a few days to reach Gretna. The Great North Road was one Suzanna never wished to travel again. Long and arduous, the journey seemed to take forever, especially when one was looking forward to reaching their destination and marrying the man one loved.

  A very vexing man, she was starting to think. Not once while alone in the carriage had he tried to compromise his future bride. Kisses he bestowed and willingly; but as heated as they became, her future husband would pull away, sit her back in the squabs and talk of the countryside or his estate.

  He was driving her insane.

  They were due to arrive in Gretna within the hour, and hopefully be married forthwith. Excitement and butterflies rolled in her belly over the hours to come. From this night forward, there would no longer be separate bedchambers. Tonight. Finally. Royce would take her in his arms and make her truly his.

  Suzanna gazed at his profile as he took in the outskirts of Gretna. From the days of travel, a heavy stubble had formed on his cheeks and jaw which left him so unlike the man he was in London. Usually meticulously attired according to the ton’s standard, now he sat beside her, cravat undone and shirt creased from sitting too long in his bag.

  It didn’t detract from his good looks. If anything, the dark, dishevelled appearance suited him. Perhaps she would ask him to keep his unshaven form.

  The carriage rocked to a halt. Suzanna looked out the window and spied a whitewashed, stone building with a thatch roof. Single story and basic in design, Suzanna absorbed the location where she would marry her viscount.

  “We’re here. Are you ready to be my wife?”

  Suzanna leant toward Royce and pulled him close for a kiss. Having learned from him what one should do when kissing, she opened for him and deepened the embrace. Royce tensed then with a growl, followed suit and pushed her back against the squabs taking her lips in a fearsome way.

  Fire coursed through her blood. Her hands clasped the hair at his nape. If his kisses were anything to go by, tonight would be more memorable than the last.

  She sighed as he pulled away.

  “What are you sighing about?” Royce met her gaze, his eyes burning with unsated lust.

  “I was merely thinking tonight we’ll be husband and wife and all that it entails.”

  He quirked his eyebrow and smiled. “Indeed we will.”

  Royce helped her alight from the carriage and ushered her into the smithy. Within minutes, he had procured the services of the blacksmith and witnesses for their union. The marriage took less than fifteen minutes. Suzanna and Royce spoke their vows and with the clang of the hammer and payment of a few guineas she became Lady Danning.

  “I love you, wife.”

  “And I you, husband.”

  ***

  The next morning, Suzanna slumped against the multitude of pillows in her bed at a local inn. She looked about the room the innkeeper had explained was for newlyweds. Native flowers sat in a vase upon the windowsill. Two chairs faced the hearth, and the bed she now occupied was big enough for a king.

  A smile quirked her lips and she shuffled under the covers. Last night had been marvellous. And to think she could sleep with Royce every night, for the rest of her life, seemed a dream come true. One would wish never to get out of bed.

  A knock on the door sounded and Suzanna looked about for him. “Come in,” she said, pulling the blankets higher on her person.

  A maid carrying a tray entered and curtsied. “Morning, my lady. Lord Danning wished me to inform you he’ll be back post-haste but wanted you to have a hearty breakfast.”

  The aromas of ham, eggs, and tea filled the room, and Suzanna’s stomach grumbled.

  “Thank you. Place it on the table before the fire if you please.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  When the maid left, Suzanna wrapped her cloak about her shoulders and sat in the armchair before the hearth. She ate with zeal, the plain food tasting like a feast.

  “Suzanna?”

  She turned and smiled as Royce came into the room. “Good morning, husband.”

  He laughed and came and sat on the opposite chair to hers. “I wish to speak with you. Have you finished your repast?”

  Suzanna placed down her napkin. “Yes, thank you. What is it you wish to say?”

  Royce pulled from his coat pocket a folded missive.

  “Is it from Henry? Has something happened?”

  He waved her concerns away. “No. Nothing of that nature. What I wished to discuss is in relation to us.”

  He paused at her worried frown. “Go on,” she said.

  “Suzanna, as you know, my family is no longer flush with cash. George’s gambling and our irresponsible lifestyle have brought the Durnhams to the brink of financial ruin.”

  “Yes.” Suzanna nodded, not understanding why Royce would bring this up now. She was wealthy enough for both of them. He no longer had to worry about debts.

  “Prior to my stay in Marshalsea, I had a marriage contract drawn up between us. I’ve sent a copy to London for your brother to approve and sign. This is your copy.”

  “What does it say?” Suzanna held her hand out for the paper clutched tightly in his hands. She unfolded it and read it as quickly as she could. “This wasn’t necessary, Royce,” she said meeting his gaze. “Why did you do this?”

  “It was right for me to prove to you and your family that my love is for you only and not your wealth. This had to be done.”

  “I never doubted it, my love.”

  “And you never will. Your dowry is to remain your own to do with as you
wish. I received word from my steward the week before we left London that the home farms are doing well, and our crops look to be plentiful this year. The sale of my Rome property has finalized. All I need now are my investments in the East India Company to pay, and I should break even.

  “I am determined to pay back what I owe your brother, along with other debts George has accumulated without touching your money. If I wanted to marry for such security, I could have asked any one of the chits flush with cash looking for a titled husband. But I did not. Honour and love would not allow me to.”

  Tears streamed down Suzanna’s face. She was sure she could not love someone as much as she loved Royce right at this moment. She tore up the contract.

  “What are you doing?” He leaped forward, but Suzanna had already thrown the document into the fire.

  “I do not need a piece of paper to remind me I have a loving husband. I trust and believe your love is true. And you forget, Royce, in my family, when it comes to my dowry I have the choice as to how I spend it.”

  He kneeled before her and hugged her about the waist. “And how do you intend doing so, my lady?”

  Suzanna kissed him. “By ensuring our family is never bothered with trivial debts again. By bestowing on your brother an income, should he exceed it, will lead to his spending time in Marshalsea instead of his brother. By keeping a close eye on your horseflesh expenditure and perhaps the hiring of a nanny would be a good idea.”

  Royce frowned. “We have no need for a nanny.” He paused. “Unless…”

  “Unless I’m with a child?” Suzanna smiled at her husband’s shocked countenance.

  “You’re pregnant?” he asked.

  Her hand clasped her stomach, the small round hardness low on her abdomen declaring it indeed was so. “Yes.”

  “But when?” he frowned. “Not last night.”

  “No,” she laughed, “the night of the masquerade ball.”