A Merchant's Daughter

by Arabella Sheen

  Aaron walked around to the other side of the vehicle and joined her. They were perched on high, and to Emma, who had never previously ridden in such an excellent carriage, the ground seemed ominously far below.

  She was unusually nervous. She was about to set off with a stranger and was aware that anything could happen.

  The phaeton was light and well-sprung, and she’d been told by Harold, her sister’s husband, that to own such a carriage was extremely fashionable.

  Emma leaned forward and smiled. “In case I forget, I must say how grateful I am for your thoughtfulness, and I do appreciate your kind offer. I have no idea how I am to repay you for your kindness, but I shall―”

  Cutting her speech of thanks short, Aaron lifted the reins and asked, “Left or right?”

  “Um…turn right, please. It is not far, and we should be there in―”

  Her words were lost as, with a flick of the whip, the horses sprang forward and they were off at a spanking pace.

  Chapter 2

  When Mr. Aaron Trent left Bath that morning to call upon his cousin at Merton Manor, he had not expected to lodge overnight at The Stag and Hounds. During previous visits, he’d often used the inn as a watering hole, but had only once before, when a snowdrift had made it impossible for him to reach his cousin’s house, sought bed and board beneath Griffin’s roof.

  That morning, Aaron had traveled to Newton Saint Loe, a small village near Corston, with the intention of calling upon his cousin, Lord Phillip Merton. However, upon reaching Merton Manor, Aaron had been greeted at the door by Carter, the butler, and informed his cousin wasn’t receiving visitors that day. Carter had been instructed to say his lordship was indisposed until further notice.

  Ignoring this message, Aaron entered the manor, and shrugging off his caped greatcoat, he passed it to the butler, along with his beaver hat and kidskin gloves.

  “There is no need to worry.” Aaron touched Carter reassuringly on the shoulder. “I shall see you are not dismissed for allowing me entry. But if you should be, you may call upon me at Windhurst Hall, and I shall find you a position. That is, if I still have a roof over my own head.”

  Then, unceremoniously, and with angered haste, Aaron made his way up the grand staircase until he reached his lordship’s bedchamber.

  Without a knock, he entered.

  The room wreaked of stale smoke, alcohol, and the stench of…sex.

  Beneath the curtained canopy of the four-poster bed and shrouded in rumpled, disheveled bedsheets were Lord Phillip Merton and an unknown woman. They were naked and lying entangled in one another’s arms.

  Fleetingly, Aaron wondered how long his cousin and the young woman had been asleep. It was nearing mid-afternoon and they were still dead to the world. But with ruthless disregard for their slumberous condition, Aaron walked to the window, pulled back the heavy, velvet drapes, and flung the windows open wide, allowing the chilled air outside to invade the stiflingly hot, reeking room.

  The woman was the first to stir. “Oh…lordy, lordy, lordy. I ain’t supposed to be found here. If Mrs. Hawkins should find me…”

  She reached for the sheets, trying to cover herself and shield her body from Aaron’s scathing stare. From her accent and words, Aaron surmised that the wench was a house servant of sorts.

  “I suggest you leave,” Aaron told her.

  Scurrying to collect her scattered clothes, she hurriedly dressed and fled the bedchamber, slamming the door fiercely behind her before Lord Merton had an opportunity to stir.

  “Phillip, wake up. Get out of bed, man.” When there was no response from his unconscious cousin, Aaron picked up a pitcher of water from the washstand and poured its contents uncaringly onto the dozing Phillip.

  His lordship was instantly awake. Spluttering and shouting, he cursed until he eventually recognized Aaron as his abuser.

  “Damnation, Aaron. I thought you were Carter. What in the world are you doing in my bedchamber? And why the sudden awakening?” Phillip put his hand to his brow, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight as he turned the air blue with profanities. “I feel as if an axe is buried in my head. How much did I drink last night?”

  Aaron shrugged his shoulders and returned the now empty pitcher to the washstand. “How the hell should I know? I was not here.”

  Standing with his arms akimbo, Aaron assessed his cousin’s condition.

  “Well, you ought to have been here,” said Phillip. “That scullery maid was more than accommodating, and I’m sure she could have found a suitable friend to satisfy your needs.”

  Aaron gave a snort of disgust. “Your offer, although I’m sure kindly meant, would have been refused. I like my women willing, not coerced. Servants generally feel under an obligation to their masters, whereas courtesans, although more expensive, are less of a problem in the long run. Take my advice and stay away from the servants.”

  Phillip scratched his head. “What are you doing at Merton Manor, and at this ungodly hour? As far as I knew, you were supposed to be somewhere on the south coast, recovering from war wounds. I was told it would take at least a year for you to fully recover. There were also rumors you would not make it at all―that you would die.”

  “Is that why you spent most of my fortune and entailed my estate?”

  Before enlisting and leaving England to fight Bonaparte in France, with the likelihood of not returning from the war, Aaron had signed a document stating that in the event of his death, his cousin was to be the sole beneficiary of the estate. During his absence, Phillip was also to act as trustee and executor of any business involving Windhurst Hall. Only the plan had backfired.

  Returning to England, Aaron discovered the trust he had placed in his cousin had been abused. Having gained access to Aaron’s fortune, Phillip had squandered most of the holdings and had entailed Aaron’s home, Windhurst Hall, leaving Aaron with only a pittance upon which to live.

  Phillip had visibly whitened. “How did you hear of this?”

  Aaron’s brows drew together. “Renchester let slip the information when we were sparring at Jackson’s boxing saloon. He told me you were in dung territory. Said you are up to your eyes in debt and have creditors knocking at your door. Apparently, you confided to him that you had to pay off your debts at the faro table as you were short of the ready. It seems you thought I would not mind if you pledged my estate to that bounder, Cuthbert Williams. I believe he is now holding Windhurst Hall as collateral until your debt is paid.”

  “Damn Renchester. Damn the lot of you.” Phillip tossed back the sheet, clambered out of bed, and shrugged on his banyan robe. Going over to the washstand, he picked up a towel and dried his dampened face.

  Aaron clenched his fists. “I foolishly trusted you to take care of my property and servants while I was away. I have now come to Newton Saint Loe to confront you and demand answers.”

  “I’ve none to offer,” Phillip said with a careless shrug. “Except to say I was in need of the brass. Anyway, it wasn’t a problem, and it still isn’t. Williams gave me a year in which to pay him off.”

  “If you needed the money, you should have sold Merton Manor to pay your gaming debts, not Windhurst Hall. Come to think of it…you still can.”

  “Can what?”

  “Sell Merton Manor, and then return Windhurst Hall, along with my savings, to me, or else―”

  “Or else what?” asked Phillip.

  “It will be pistols at dawn.” Aaron disliked threatening his cousin, but it had to be done.

  When Aaron’s parents died, his uncle, Lord Merton, had generously taken Aaron to live at Merton Manor until he came of age and could claim Windhurst Hall as his own. Aaron had been grateful for the kindness shown, and to a certain extent, had felt indebted to his uncle.

  It had been hard going at first, but when Aaron returned to Windhurst Hall, he had worked his fingers to the bone, day and night, to expand his estate and return it to the prosperous, thriving business it had once been. He had gone from being
a gentleman of means, with nothing much to occupy his time, to being a farmer with responsibilities. The farmland had been worked and cattle reared to bring in a substantial annual income. And when war broke out, he had also carved out an army career, and his earnings weren’t to be sniffed at. Then Phillip had totally ruined his good fortune, and Aaron couldn’t forgive the deceit.

  Phillip had gone behind his back. His cousin had hoped to get away with his gaming and philandering, and in Aaron’s eyes, Phillip was no longer a true gentleman with honor. As a result, Phillip’s wrongdoing had to be punished.

  As a child, his cousin had always been spoilt, but even though they had been close and raised as brothers, Aaron could no longer accept or condone Phillip’s misconduct.

  There was only one course of action for him to pursue. He decided that if his lands and funds were not returned intact and promptly, he was prepared to challenge Phillip to a duel and demand satisfaction. It was the least he could do to save face.

  “You can’t be serious.” Phillip was now completely awake and fully alert.

  “I’m in deadly earnest.” Aaron walked to the door of the bedchamber and yanked it open. He turned to look back at his cousin, and with a glare of displeasure, he said, “I shall be staying at my apartment in Bath. You may reach me through my solicitors. I believe you have their address. Why they allowed you to squander my funds at the gaming tables, I have yet to discover, but make no bones about it, my lands will be returned.”

  Without a backward glance, Aaron walked away, not caring if he had left his cousin shaken, bemused, and wondering what was to come.

  Chapter 3

  With Emma’s luggage loaded onto the phaeton and Gresham instructed to follow as soon as possible with the horses, Aaron turned the carriage around and headed for The Stag and Hounds.

  “Tell me, Miss Brentry, what exactly are you doing on the Bath Road alone?”

  Aaron flicked the whip over the horses’ heads. As he spurred them on, Emma watched, admiring his skillful handling of the thoroughbreds. He was obviously a Corinthian of sorts and an expert when it came to controlling his horses.

  He had strong hands, and as they held the reins firmly in his grasp, she wondered what it would be like if his fingers were to caress her body and make her react to his touch as skillfully as he made the horses respond to his commands.

  Perched high on the phaeton and jostled by its rocking motion, they rode toward their destination. Emma remained in her seat as best she could, but as their speed increased, no matter how hard she tried to prevent it, she was constantly thrown against Aaron’s side. Made aware of his hard thighs pressed firmly against hers, her heart skipped a beat.

  “I’ve been staying with my sister in Bristol, and I’m returning to Bath where I live with my father,” she told him. “It was thought the journey to Bath could be made in a day, however, a broken carriage wheel was not anticipated…nor was spending a night at an inn.”

  Because of the speed at which they were traveling, Emma’s bonnet had fallen from her head and dangled haphazardly down her back. She had given up trying to keep it fixed in position, and as the horses traveled the lanes, her dark curls, which had been so neatly arranged that morning, were now being blown every which way. They were in complete and total disarray.

  “And what exactly were you doing in Bristol?” he asked.

  “Oh, there was plenty to entertain. Of an evening, we were often to be found at the Assembly Rooms on Prince Street, where balls and concerts are given. We went daily for walks on The Downs near Clifton. Clifton is a lovely place to visit, and there is such wonderful architecture to be found there. Some of the buildings are just as magnificent, if not nicer, than the Royal Crescent in Bath. But if you are asking what was my true purpose in going to Bristol…well, I must confess, I had been sent there to find a husband.”

  Aaron’s grip on the reins slackened, and the horses’ speed dropped to a steady trot. “A husband?”

  “Yes, sir. Actually, unfashionable as it may appear, I’m quite happy without one. I have no need for a man, but my father thinks I ought to have a spouse. He believes I require someone to tame me and bring me to order…and the sooner, the better.”

  Upon seeing Aaron’s raised brow and startled reaction at her frank confession, Emma chuckled. It was clear she had surprised him.

  Unable to resist the opportunity to shock further, she asked, “Would you care to consider that vacant position? I have become quite reconciled to taking a husband. I believe we could have what is known as a marriage of convenience.”

  Over the years, Emma had callously brushed aside many eager suitors. None had interested her. And although content with life the way it was, she realized the time had indeed come to find a husband. The only problem was, her friends had married most of the eligible gentlemen, and she’d now been left with a poor selection to choose from.

  “What?” Aaron asked. “Are you jesting? Or are you in all seriousness asking me to consider becoming your husband?”

  With a crack of the whip, the horses sprang forward.

  “Well, yes…now that you mention it, perhaps if you are available, it would be an excellent notion if we did marry. You see, my father sent me to stay with my sister, Dorothea, in the hope of being rid of me. And although I am older and ought to have found a husband before she did, I have not. Dorothea’s been married to Mr. Marks four years, and Papa was so certain she could find a husband for me amongst their many friends. It was believed she was familiar with the etiquette for matchmaking. But as you might have guessed, I am now returning to Bath unclaimed and unbetrothed.”

  To her enjoyment, Aaron smiled and entered into the light-hearted nature of her banter.

  “And why do you think no one will have you?” he asked. “You seem such a pleasant person, Miss Brentry. You are well-presented, well-spoken, and if I might add, you are reasonably pleasing to the eye.”

  Emma threw back her head and laughed heartily.

  “Mr. Trent, I must say I like your honesty. Thank you for not saying my beauty is unsurpassed, as so many men falsely declare. Because if you had, I would not have believed you. Had you professed my loveliness to be beyond compare, or my figure to be complete perfection, I would deem you to be untrustworthy. Men can be such tedious bores when offering false platitudes and faux compliments.”

  Emma knew herself to be of average looks and was thankful Aaron wasn’t a toad-eater. She detested untruths, especially when it concerned flattering banalities about her character or appearance. And so far, Aaron had proffered neither of these things.

  “Not wishing to bore you, Miss Brentry, I will not try to persuade you otherwise. Instead, I must insist you tell me why your father wishes you to marry so urgently.”

  The phaeton turned a sharp corner, and Emma was once again thrown against Aaron’s side as the horses raced on. Undaunted by her closeness, he simply straightened the carriage and continued along the rutted lane until the crossroads was reached and the turn was made for The Stag and Hounds. They had almost arrived at the inn.

  “I believe he wishes me to marry so he might have a grandson.”

  “Really?”

  “So far, Dorothea has only produced girls, and as Papa has no heir to inherit, he is keen for me to give him a successor.”

  “His successor? To what?” Aaron asked.

  “Why…his vast fortune and colossal enterprise of course.”

  Aaron raised a brow with skepticism. “I have obviously been out of the country for far too long. Enlighten me. Is your father so rich and so noted a gentleman that you assume I must know of his wealth and status?”

  “His wealth you might have heard of, but Papa is no gentleman—at least not by birth, and certainly not in the eyes of the ton.”

  “Is that so?”

  “You said I seemed well-presented and well-spoken, but that is due in essence to my education and not a result of my lineage. I attended Miss Witherington’s finishing school for young ladies. I
have been told I’m part of an abhorrent breed known as a wealthy merchant’s daughter.”

  There was a smile on Aaron’s face and laughter was clearly shining in his eyes. He was amused.

  “I would not have known this to be the case, Miss Brentry. A merchant’s daughter, you say?”

  “Yes, sir. And whereas it is generally thought daughters of the beau monde are entitled to be romantically inclined, merchant’s daughters, on the other hand, are not. We are raised to be extremely practical in outlook. We have to be. And because of this, I’m willing to consider my father’s suggestion of an arranged marriage. But when my sister introduced me to Lord Stratton, I realized that as much as I might wish to oblige my dear father, in this instance, I simply cannot.”

  “You are referring to Lord Randle Stratton?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “Do you know of him?”

  “Only slightly,” he replied. “But enlighten me… Why can you not oblige your father?”

  Aaron’s smile had widened, as if he found this conversation greatly amusing.

  “Such a marriage is not for me, and no amount of persuasion can make me marry Lord Stratton. Even though he is nearly as wealthy as Papa, the man has at least three chins and hardly a hair on his head. Desperate I might be, but not so desperate that I would consider his proposal―which I can assure you, he has already made.”

  “And you have refused Stratton?” Aaron sounded astounded.

  The phaeton pulled into the inn’s courtyard and the horses were reined to a halt.

  “Yes. Of course I refused his offer. But unfortunately, Lord Stratton has not accepted my refusal. He has promised to call upon us in Bath and intends to see if I can be persuaded to change my mind. Sadly, he has taken a fancy to me and insists he will have me as his wife. Tell me, sir, as a man of action and with knowledge of strategy, how do I deter him?”