by Aria Norton
A Merchant's Extraordinary Lady
A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL
ARIA NORTON
Copyright © 2020 by Aria Norton
All Rights Reserved.
This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
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Table of Contents
A Merchant's Extraordinary Lady
Table of Contents
A Merchant's Extraordinary Lady
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Loving a Forsaken Earl
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
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A Merchant's Extraordinary Lady
Introduction
Aurora is a headstrong young woman, who holds onto her freedom tightly and doesn't intend to allow any kind of man to rule over her. When her father, a well-known baron, arranges an unlikely match for her, she immediately devises a plan to dissuade the suitor. Her efforts are in vain though, as the man, a tenacious and handsome merchant, perseveres and marries her anyway. Dismayed, Aurora resolves to make her husband’s life miserable, but to her shock, she finds her heart softening towards him. As her bewildering new feelings intensify, will they challenge her determination to fight against her husband and her desire to be a free woman?
Carlos’s life has been driven by his need to avenge his mother’s death and claim his rightful place as the son of a Spanish count. An opportunity falls into his lap when he overhears an irate baron offer his troublesome daughter as a wife to anyone who will have her. Marrying this stubborn young woman gives him a clear path towards meeting his father for the very first time, but also makes him her enemy. He might not have minded this, if he wasn’t also unexpectedly and uncontrollably drawn to his mesmerising wife… With his birthright finally within his grasp, will his heart instead force him to explore powerful feelings he hadn’t bargained for?
As Aurora clings to her independence amid her developing emotions, Carlos is troubled by his guilt over marrying an unwilling woman to advance his plans. Thrown together by fate, neither can deny their life-changing connection for much longer. With Aurora’s safety suddenly being threatened, will justice matter more to Carlos than the woman he has come to care so deeply about? Will Aurora ever be able to set aside her fears and hurt and give them both a chance to discover the true depth of their shared feelings?
Prologue
Twenty-eight Years Ago, Spain
Maria was not a great milk lover, but her cousin swore by warm milk, honey, and herbs to help her sleep better. The child she carried in her womb had become active lately, keeping her awake until the early hours of the morning.
“Tonight you will sleep, little one. You have kept me up long enough.”
Rubbing her distended belly, she sipped the milk, grimacing at its bitter flavour. It seems Alba did not put enough honey. She would call her handmaiden to do so, but Lydia had walked with a limp this afternoon. Her old injury has made itself known today, but she denies it. I do not wish to bother her with something so small.
Surely it would not be a hardship to finish one bitter glass of milk? If she blocked her nose and gulped it down, it shouldn’t be too unbearable. A few hard-boiled sweets were kept in a tin beside her bed; she could suck on one to remove the taste from her tongue.
Stretching, she shook one sweet free of its confinement and promptly drank her prepared drink with speed, popping the sweet into her mouth directly after.
Maria sucked on it furiously, trying to trick her mind that the terrible aftertaste in her mouth was not as disgusting as it was. Slowly, the sweet’s citrus flavour took over the last of the lingering herbs, bringing swift relief. Even as a child, she had hated medicine and usually threw a tantrum when anyone tried to force her.
“I drink this milk out of desperation. ’Tis not good for a countess to fall asleep while she is listening to the plight of the poor.”
Tomas no longer allowed her to leave their estate to give alms to the poor, so she had several servants do it on her behalf. Every mid-morning, they came to inform her of any needs and complaints of the poor, and she would do her best to ensure that many were helped. The load of caring for the poor had become lighter since Alba came to stay with them, endearing the younger woman to her.
“’Tis lovely to see that she has matured wonderfully in the years I have not seen her. She always appeared to be a selfish child growing up, and I seldom had time for her entitled ways.”
She and her cousin had often played together as their mothers were sisters, although the woman was four years younger than her. The last time Maria had seen her cousin had been during her wedding to Tomas two years ago, a man eleven years her senior. It had been an arranged marriage, but she had soon discovered that her husband was deeply in love with her, and had been from the moment he had set his eyes on her during the king’s seasonal balls. She had come to love him as well over time, seeing him more as her husband than the Count of Santa Sessa.
Drowsiness soon grabbed hold of her, a welcome feeling after being awake for much of the previous night. She missed lying beside her husband, but when her child began to trouble her sleep, she had moved into another chamber not to disturb his sleep. He had insisted that it was no bother, but what kind of a wife would she be if she didn’t think of his well-being?
’Tis only a matter of weeks before our babe is born, and I shall be back at his side.”
With that happy thought, she settled into bed, her eyes drifting close after mere minutes.
***
Lydia woke up with a start, her body damp with perspiration. Terrible dreams of life and death had assaulted her for much of the night, worrying her.
“Something is wrong; something is terribly wrong.”
She could sense it deeply within her, so strongly that sleep was no longer a possibility. Sweet Lord, what is it? My heart is heavy with despair. She winced as she left her bed, her leg protesting the movement.
“Do not trouble me! I must find out what the matter is. There is something amiss in this castle, and I shall not return to my slumber until I know what it is.”
Lydia would first see to her mistress, and once she was content that Countes
s and the unborn babe were fine, she would do a brief walk through the castle for her own peace of mind. Her room was not far from the countess, making it easier to attend to her needs without the barrier of distance. It wasn’t customary for a servant to sleep on the same floor as her mistress, but the countess had insisted on it.
Lydia smiled as she recalled the day her mistress had argued with everyone to keep her near, and as with all things, she had got her way. The count had not wanted to enter into a dispute with his young wife, not when the sun rose and set upon her head. One could take that quite literally as it did truly seem as though the sun shone continually on the countess’ hair. Golden hair was not a common colour in Spain, where most were dark-haired, setting her mistress apart from the rest. She may look angelic, but her fiery nature is anything but.
She continued to smile all the way to her mistress’ chamber, using a secret doorway to avoid alerting the guards outside and causing a raucous. Not many people knew of the secret tunnel that connected most of the rooms in the house, but it was helpful for her injured leg. The scars she carried were deep and frightful, but the ones within her were more so. She would forever be grateful to the countess for saving her from a situation she preferred not to think about. I owe her my life, and I shall serve her with it.
From the moment she entered the room, Lydia knew that the horrible feeling she had felt had to do with the woman currently curled into a ball on her bed. Forgetting about her old aches and pains, she rushed to the bed, kneeling.
“Señora! What is wrong?”
“Thank goodness you are here,” the woman said weakly, her skin pale. “I do not have the strength to call out for anyone.”
Lydia ran her eyes over her mistress, her chest feeling tight. She was but eighteen, but she knew enough of the world and illnesses to see that the countess was in frightful pain. I am almost too afraid to touch for fear of hurting her.
“But what is wrong? Why do you clutch your belly so? Did you eat something that did not agree with you? I did tell you not to eat so many olives.”
Her mistress shook her head. “Something is terribly wrong, Lydia. I feel weak, so weak. And so much pain.”
Alarmed, Lydia stood up. “I will call the Conde!”
“Wait, wait. Do not leave me.”
Kneeling by the bed, she took the Countess’ hand. “Please, tell me what I can do. I cannot bear to see you like this.”
“My baby, he is coming, I think.”
“You are in labour?”
“Yes, but ’tis not normal. Something is wrong, Lydia.”
Each word was spoken with much difficulty, as though the countess was struggling against an unseen force. She had been in good health today; what could have happened within the space of a few hours?
“I will fetch the castle midwife.”
“No, shout for the guards outside the room. They will fetch the midwife and my husband, but you must remain by my side.”
Lydia could see the stark fear in the woman’s eyes, tasting the oddly metallic flavour of her own. Or had she bitten her tongue when she stood up? Struggling to get the words out at first, she swallowed past the lump and cotton feel of her tongue, glad when her voice was freed.
“Guards! Guards!”
The men came rushing in within seconds, their weapons poised in the air as their eyes raked the room for possible danger. Their eyes were respectfully averted from the bed, bowing their heads before the countess when they deemed the room secure. They truly were a menacing sight, reminding her of a horrendous day from her past.
“Señora,” they said.
“Tell them, Lydia,” her mistress urged.
Her tongue still felt like swollen, but she managed to speak. “Hurry, you must call the midwife and alert the Conde that our Condesa will have her babe soon. Do not tarry.”
The men bowed again and sped away, their armour clinking in their haste. Lydia turned to the woman she loved like her own sister, holding her limp hand to her cheek.
“You will be well, Señora; nothing can happen to you.”
A shadow of a smile crossed the woman’s face. “You are naturally more pessimistic than I. How is it that you came to be so positive?”
“You jest at such a time?” Lydia scolded lightly. “Please, rest now. The midwife will come to observe you and pronounce you and the babe in good health.”
“What if that is not the case?”
An icy grip tightened on Lydia’s heart. “Hush, do not say such things. Rest now.”
The countess nodded. “Yes, rest is good. I feel tired, so very tired. I do not know which is more demanding, my pain, or my weakness.”
Her mistress’ eyes closed, but her brow remained etched with lines. Dear Lord, what has become of the countess? Why is this happening? Lydia continued to ask these questions as she remained kneeling beside the bed, vaguely aware of the pain in her leg.
It took but five minutes for the count to arrive, and another ten for the midwife. Standing aside, Lydia watched the carefully masked expression of the midwife as she examined the pregnant woman, waiting for news of her situation. The count had got into the bed by then and had tenderly laid his wife’s head in his lap, requesting a damp cloth to dab her brow. She appeared sound asleep, but Lydia had a feeling she was wide awake.
Finally, the midwife pulled back, her expression grim. “Señor, both mother and child are losing strength. I cannot understand it as the condesa was healthy when I last examined her, but today ...”
“What?” the count demanded. “What is wrong with my wife? You said yourself that she was healthy this afternoon.”
“That may be, but these conditions are ... are unpredictable. I am sorry to say this, but ’tis unlikely the condesa and your child will survive.”
Lydia grabbed the nearest chair, her mind swimming. What? Her mistress would die? That cannot be! The count remained staring at the midwife, his expression one of confusion and fear.
“That cannot be true,” he denied.
“I would not lie to you, Señor,” the midwife replied, shaking her head. “Something has happened between then and now. I do not know what it is. Maybe ’tis the Lord’s will.”
Lydia could have wrung the woman’s neck for saying that, but the count beat her to it with harsh words.
“Do not be foolish, woman! How can it be the Lord’s will for a good woman and her child to die in such a way? Look at all the work she has done for the poor! She gives, and gives, and gives past endurance – she cannot die!”
The midwife bowed her head. “Forgive me, Señor. I can only say what I see. Perhaps if everyone was to pray ...”
“Yes,” the count answered quickly. “We will pray, but you must do all that you can to save her. Preserve the life of my wife and child, and I’ll give you up to half my riches.”
Lydia saw the desperation in her master’s eyes, the fear facing him with the reality of losing the love of his life and his heir all at once. It was a terrible fate for anyone to bear. If only I could die in my mistress’ place! I am but a useless person, but she can do much in this world. Please, Lord, do not allow her to die.
The midwife wrung her hands, sorrow evident on her face. “Please, Señor, I cannot take anything of your wealth. This matter is out of my hands.”
“No,” came a feeble voice.
Everyone appeared momentarily stupefied, looking at each other in confusion. It took several further seconds to realise it was the countess who had spoken.
“Mi amor, you will be well,” the count promised fiercely, stroking his wife’s damp tendrils from her brow. “I will not allow anything to happen to you.”
The countess shook her head. “’Tis too late, Tomas.”
“Hush, do not say that,” he pleaded. “You cannot leave me, Maria.”
“I will not allow our child to die, mi amor, but I cannot remain in this world any longer. I know that I must leave it.”
