by Laura Beers
“I am not interested in a marriage of convenience.”
He stared at her blankly. “Is that what you think I am offering?”
“Isn’t it?”
Running a hand through his hair, Lord Hawthorne declared, “Heavens, no!”
“Then I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Lord Hawthorne met her gaze, and she refrained from smiling at his tousled hair. “I am not good at giving speeches, Madalene. But I want you to bear with me.”
He took a deep breath before he began. “You are the most intriguing young woman I have ever met. You are beautiful, compassionate, kind, clever, and incredibly headstrong.” He chuckled. “At times, you may almost be too stubborn, but I am willing to overlook that.”
“Are you trying to compliment me or insult me?”
Lord Hawthorne reached for her hand. “Compliment you,” he replied. “I don’t hesitate when someone is pointing a pistol at me, but I’m growing increasingly anxious at the prospect of offering myself to the woman that I love.”
She blinked. “Love?” she repeated. “You love me?”
“Yes, how could I not?” he asked. “I don’t know exactly when I started to fall in love with you, but I suspect it was when I first saw you in that coffeehouse.”
“Truly?”
A slow smile came to his lips. “You have no idea the effect you have on me,” he shared. “When I am with you, I am a better man. But you must know that I will never be truly worthy of you.”
“I disagree,” she replied. “I think you are perfect for me.”
“Do you mean that?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.
She blinked back the tears that came to her eyes. “I do,” she asserted, “and I love you, as well.”
Lord Hawthorne reared back slightly. “You do?” he asked. “I mean, I hoped you did… or at least held me in some affection—”
In a bold, swift move, she went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his, effectively silencing him.
As she leaned back slightly, she asked, “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”
He chuckled. “No, I can’t say that anyone ever has.”
Smiling, she said, “I think I found my favorite way to silence you.”
His eyes dropped to her lips. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” she replied, taking a deep, shuddering breath in anticipation of what Lord Hawthorne was about to do.
In the next moment, he pressed his warm, soft lips to hers. His arms came around her, drawing her closer to him. She parted her lips and kissed him back with an ardor that she had never felt before. And with every moment, she found herself growing more in love with this wonderful man.
Lord Hawthorne broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “You never did answer my question.”
“About what?” she breathed.
“Will you marry me?”
Madalene pretended to consider his words. “I suppose a union between us would be a good idea,” she finally replied.
“Yes, it most assuredly would,” he said, “especially since I never wish to be parted from you ever again.”
“Then I agree, assuming you will let me kiss you whenever I want.”
A charming smile came to his lips. “I can agree to those terms.”
“Wonderful.”
The word was barely out of her mouth before Lord Hawthorne pressed his lips against hers. Not that she was complaining. She rather enjoyed kissing her fiancé.
Her companion’s voice caused them to jump apart. “I hope this means that there will be a wedding,” Mrs. Foster said in a firm voice.
“Yes,” Madalene replied as she brought her hand up to her tingling lips. “Lord Hawthorne asked me to marry him.”
“Baldwin,” he corrected gently.
Madalene smiled over at him in response.
Mrs. Foster rushed forward and embraced her. “I am so happy for you,” she said as she stepped back. “For both of you.”
Baldwin met Madalene’s gaze, his eyes conveying his love. “Now that I have secured your hand in marriage, I will depart and call upon you tomorrow to discuss the particulars.”
“I shall be looking forward to it.”
“Very good.”
Madalene watched as Baldwin walked to the door and spun back around. “I love you, Madalene, and you have made me the happiest of men.”
Surprised by his outburst, it took her a moment to respond. “I love you, too.”
Baldwin smiled, his eyes full of a love such as she had never known. “Until tomorrow, then.”
Epilogue
Six months later
“Where are you taking me?” Madalene asked as she sat next to him in the dimly lit coach.
Baldwin grinned at his wife’s exuberance. “You can stop pestering me with questions,” he said. “I am not going to tell you.”
“We have been traveling with the drapes closed for hours.”
He chuckled. “It has been closer to twenty minutes.”
Madalene gasped as she turned to face him. “Are you abducting me again?”
“I am not.”
“Are you taking me to the orphanage?”
He shook his head. “Why would I need to keep that a secret?”
“Good point,” she said, fidgeting with the reticule in her lap. “Although, I thought we were done with secrets.”
“This isn’t a secret.”
“It isn’t?”
Smiling, he replied, “No, it is a gift.”
“But I don’t need any more gifts from you,” she objected. “I daresay that you have spoiled me with all the jewelry you have given me. I mean it when I say that I am more than content with just being your wife.”
“It pleases me immensely to hear you say that.”
Bringing her face closer to his, she murmured, “You should know that I love you more with each passing day.”
Unable to resist, he bent his head and kissed her on the lips. He leaned back and said, “I could stay in the coach and kiss you all day.”
“Then why don’t you?” she asked coyly.
“Don’t tempt me.”
Her nose scrunched and she brought her hand up. “We are definitely in the rookeries,” she announced.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it smells like the inside of a chamber pot.”
“That it does.”
Madalene offered him a curious look. “Do you miss working as an agent?”
“Part of me does,” he admitted. “I miss the danger and excitement of being a spy, but I do not regret my decision to retire.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “Lord Desmond may have been discredited when his solicitor testified against him, but he isn’t the only peer that is corrupt.”
“That is most unfortunate,” Madalene murmured.
Before he could reply, the coach came to a stop.
“I want you to close your eyes,” he said.
She gave him a puzzled look. “Why?”
“Just trust me, please.”
“Fine,” Madalene said before she closed her eyes tightly. “I can’t see anything.”
“Allow me to escort you,” he said, placing his hand on her arm.
After Baldwin gently led her out of the coach, he stopped her in front of a brown brick building.
Baldwin turned to face her because he wanted to see her reaction to her gift. “Now, open your eyes,” he ordered.
Madalene opened her eyes, and he was gratified to hear her gasp in delight. “When did you have time to accomplish this?”
“I generally find the time when something is important to me.” He turned to face the building. “Does it please you?” he asked, as they both gazed at the sign over the main door that read, “Elizabeth Dowding Workhouse and Infirmary”.
“Immensely,” she replied, “especially since you used my mother’s name.”
Baldwin reached for her hand. “I know you are wor
ried about your mother’s legacy, but between the workhouse and the orphanage, your mother’s name will live on for good for generations to come,” he explained. “I have hired a contractor to oversee the managing of the workhouse, but I thought it would be prudent if he reported back to you.”
Tears came to his wife’s eyes, but he knew they were happy tears. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she murmured.
“I suppose you are right,” he joked. “You are quite lucky to have me.”
She laughed, as he hoped she would.
“But, as it turns out, I have a gift for you, as well,” Madalene said as she turned to face him.
Placing his hand on her right cheek, he replied, “Every day with you is a gift.”
“Do you truly mean that?”
“I choose you, and I will keep choosing you for as long as I live,” he promised, hoping his eyes conveyed his sincerity.
A tear slipped out of her eye and rolled down her cheek. As he went to wipe it away, she surprised him by saying, “I am with child.”
Fearing he misheard her, he asked, “I beg your pardon?”
She smiled tenderly as she repeated, “I am with child.”
Leaning back, he asked, “Are you sure?” He glanced down at her stomach. “I mean… have you spoken to the doctor—”
His words were stilled when she pressed her lips against his, earning disapproving looks from people that walked past them on the pavement.
“You talk too much, Baldwin,” she said, leaning back.
“I am just flabbergasted,” he declared, running a hand through his hair.
“Does it please you?”
He chuckled at the absurdity of that question. “Nothing could please me more than to have you be the mother of my children.”
“I am relieved to hear you say that,” she replied. “I was planning on telling you over supper tonight, but I found I couldn’t wait.”
“I have no doubt that my family will be elated when we share the good news.”
She gave him a sheepish grin. “I’m afraid I may have already confided in Jane.”
“That does not surprise me,” Baldwin remarked. “You two have only appeared to have gotten closer since we wed.”
“That we have.”
Baldwin glanced at the building. “I had intended that we should take a tour of the workhouse and infirmary before it officially opened up to the public,” he said. “But perhaps we should take you home to rest.”
“I am perfectly capable of touring the workhouse,” Madalene said stubbornly as she approached the door. “You do not need to coddle me now that I am with child.”
Taking a step around his wife, he opened the door wide and replied, “That is exactly what I intend to do. I can’t risk anything happening to you or the baby.”
“You need not fear,” she said with a smile. “We will be together for the rest of forever.”
Baldwin offered his arm to her. “You promise?”
“I do,” Madalene replied, leaning against him. “I don’t intend to ever let you go.”
The End
Enjoy an excerpt from A Dangerous Game!
Chapter One
England, 1814
Miss Emmeline Lockhart found herself in the most peculiar situation. She had been told that she should feel immense gratitude for the position that she was in, but all she felt was dread at the thought of marrying the Duke of Billingham.
She snuck a glance at the aged duke, who was sitting at the head of the table, and studied him without his knowledge. His thin, worn face was covered with deep wrinkles, he had tufts of white hair around his balding, mottled scalp, and his shoulders were hunched over.
The duke was speaking to her aunt, Lady Taylor, and she saw a large piece of food stuck in his crooked, yellow teeth. She shuddered as she reached for her glass, knowing this was destined to be her future.
Turning his attention towards her, the duke asked in a thin, breathy voice, “Are you cold, my dear?”
Emmeline shook her head. “No, Your Grace, but I thank you kindly for asking.” She took a sip of her drink, hoping he would continue his conversation with her aunt. But she was not so fortunate.
The duke considered her for a moment before saying, “It is rather drafty in the dining room. I can’t risk you catching a cold before our nuptials.”
“I assure you that I am perfectly well.”
Appearing unconvinced, the duke snapped his fingers and a footman promptly appeared at his side. “Will you stoke the fire and bring a blanket for Miss Lockhart?”
“That isn’t necessary, Your Grace,” she attempted.
He smiled at her, and she grimaced at the piece of food that was still stuck in his teeth. If anything, it appeared to have gotten larger. How was that possible?
“It is my privilege to take care of you,” the duke said.
Her aunt spoke up. “That is very generous of you,” she gushed, giving her niece a look that implied she should behave. “Isn’t it, Emmeline?”
Emmeline brought a smile to her lips. “It is, and I thank you for your concern.”
“We shall have to purchase you some sturdier gowns after we are wed,” the duke remarked. “Billingham House can get rather drafty in the winter months and I daresay your muslin gowns won’t be sufficient.”
“Do you not retire to the country for the winter months?” Emmeline asked.
“I do not,” he replied. “I find that traveling does not suit me. At least not anymore.”
Her uncle, Lord Taylor, wiped the sides of his mouth with his napkin, then said, “I daresay that I would have no desire to leave London if I resided in a beautiful townhouse such as yours.”
The duke bobbed his head in agreement. “My late wife, Diana, spent hours decorating Billingham House before her unexpected death.”
“Our condolences,” Lady Taylor expressed. “It is always hard to lose a loved one, especially a spouse.”
“Thank you,” the duke replied. “We may have only been married for a few years, but I did eventually grow to care for her. She was an agreeable person.”
“What a lovely thing to say,” Emmeline remarked tersely but softened her words with a smile.
Appearing unaware of the snideness of her comment, the duke returned her smile. “I have buried four wives in my lifetime, which is why I decided I needed to marry someone much younger this time. That way I can ensure you will outlive me.”
“How wonderful,” Emmeline muttered.
Her aunt cleared her throat and shot her a warning look. “What Emmeline is trying to convey is that she is very blessed to be your betrothed. Aren’t you?”
“Yes, so incredibly blessed,” Emmeline said, her words sounding forced to her own ears.
The duke puffed his chest out in pride at her words, and she wondered if he could hear everything that she was saying. Perhaps he was going deaf in his old age.
“I knew we would suit admirably the moment I saw you,” the duke remarked. “Furthermore, I still require an heir. My previous wives greatly disappointed me in that regard, especially my first wife. She was unable to have children.”
Lady Taylor smiled at the duke. “You do have lovely daughters, Your Grace.”
“Bah,” he replied forcefully. “I don’t need any more daughters. I require a son. An heir.”
Emmeline turned her attention towards the blue-papered walls and attempted to hide her growing agitation. The duke’s only purpose for her was to produce a son, and quickly.
The duke’s next words drew her attention back. “My doctor will need to examine you before the wedding to ensure you can bear children.”
“Pardon?” she asked, hoping she’d misheard him.
“I can’t take the chance that you are barren,” the duke said simply, “and I have been told it is a simple exam.”
“Lovely,” she remarked dryly as a footman placed a blanket onto her lap. “I shall have something to look forward to.”
“Per
the contract, for every son you produce, you will be handsomely rewarded,” the duke shared.
“And if I have a girl?”
The duke frowned. “Then you shall be given nothing for your troubles.”
“I see.”
“Do you anticipate having a problem with bearing sons?” the duke questioned.
“I don’t think it is something that I can control,” she admitted.
The duke waved his hand dismissively in front of him. “You need not to fret about that,” he declared. “You are still young and will be able to bear many children for me.”
“May I ask how old your daughters are?”
The duke stared at her blankly. “I am not entirely sure. They are away at boarding school.”
“You don’t know the ages of your own children?” she asked in disbelief.
“I don’t pay attention to such trivial details,” the duke replied.
Emmeline kept her face expressionless as she questioned, “Do you at least know how many children you have?”
The duke chuckled. “What a delight you are,” he said. “Yes, I have three daughters, but you don’t need to concern yourself with them until they are old enough for a Season. Then, you shall have the honor of introducing them into Society.”
Emmeline leaned to the side as a footman placed a dessert plate in front of her. As she reached for her fork, she asked, “What hobbies do you enjoy, Your Grace?”
“I enjoy dissected puzzles.”
“As do I,” Emmeline replied. “I enjoy putting the map of Europe together.”
The duke bobbed his head in approval. “I used to be an avid reader, but my eyes are not what they used to be. I shall require you to read to me in the evenings.”
“My niece would be happy to do that,” Lady Taylor said enthusiastically. “She loves reading and talking. Those are her two favorite things to do.”
Emmeline stifled the groan that came to her lips. What an absurd thing to say, she thought.
“I do not enjoy useless chatter, mind you,” the duke revealed. “There is no place for it in my home.”
Lady Taylor bobbed her head. “Emmeline has practically perfected the art of polite conversation. Haven’t you, dear?”
