Just a Marriage of Convenience with the Duke by Hazel Linwood
Chapter 6
Victor was awakened that morning by the hellacious chatter of birds sitting on the branch outside his window. Their screeches and triumphant calls to one another had worked their way into his fuzzy-minded dreams before he opened one eye.
He instantly regretted it.
It was never a pleasant sight to see Babette’s face so early in the morning, the remnants of her layered greasepaint from the night before smeared on her face and soiling the cover of the pillow. Even with the proper, fresh application of her performance mask, she was not exactly a beauty. But that didn’t matter to Victor.
She was a warm and willing bed companion, nothing more.
Fortunately, that seemed to suit her as well, as she never asked much of Victor, not even the use of his carriage to return to her apartments near Astley’s Amphitheater. She came and went largely as she pleased, though she wasn’t above being summoned when Victor called for her.
This morning, however, was different. The effects of strong drink were still clouding Victor’s mind, causing his memory to fail him. The evening before he’d been at Lord Kerrington’s ball, and he vaguely remembered suffering some insult. He couldn’t place it now, but it had to have been severe for him to still be thinking on it in the morning, and in his condition.
“Yer awake ‘afore the sun, my lord,” Babette said sleepily, one of her eyes still shut.
Victor didn’t answer. He was not one for conversation at such an hour of the day—and not known to enjoy it at any other time, for that matter—but he did not relish the notion of lying about and speaking with Babette. That was not something that existed between them.
“Did ya lose yer tongue at that fancy party o’ yers then?” she asked, her voice still slightly muffled by the pillow.
“Nothing to say, that’s all,” he finally answered, lest he fall out of her very willing good graces.
“A’right then. Have ‘em send up somethin’ to eat and I’ll be on my way home,” she answered, turning her back on Victor and settling in some more.
Victor sighed angrily but threw off the bed covers and got up. He put on his robe and cinched the belt around his waist before stepping out into the hall. The butler was still downstairs, presumably, and Victor had only one maid and the cook. There was little doubt he could not call on either of the two ladies to bring up a tray, not with his guest taking up residence for the morning, so that would require calling on his butler to do the demeaning task.
“It should be a while,” Victor said when he finally returned to his room and fell back into bed.
“Just as well, I can spend a bit more time in these sheets,” Babette replied groggily. A soft snore followed the statement, and Victor cringed.
Suddenly, a flash of realization struck. He remembered what had transpired the evening before. He’d had a fair amount to drink when he danced with Repington’s daughter—the eldest one? Or was it the youngest? How many did the earl have? —and was rudely interrupted by that insufferable Lockhart.
“I despise that one,” Victor muttered before remembering that Babette might awaken. He thought bitterly to all the times he’d judged himself against the duke, a darling of the ton, everyone’s favorite though hardly anyone of consequence seemed to know him very well.
And then there was Victor. A lowly earl only by remainder, his stepfather having died without heirs. It was now up to Victor—to marry well though he had no need to marry wealthy—to pass along the title that would simply dissolve if he did not secure a son.
To that end, Repington’s daughter would fit the bill nicely. Old enough that she would be duly grateful to marry, and the progeny of a man without two coins to his name. Victor might be expected to pay some sort of bride price, but given his station, he wouldn’t be called upon to offer up very much.
The fact that she wasn’t ugly was a welcomed point, though Victor did not intend to spend more time with her than necessary. They only had to cross paths long enough to have a son or two, boys who could be shipped off to the sort of schools that Victor had been refused. After all, his mother had been but a successful merchant’s daughter and his parentage had been called into question on more than one occasion. It was only his mother’s marriage to the Earl of Haskins that had given Victor any opportunities in life, fleeting though they had been.
He remembered the day his stepfather had told him he would inherit, a memory that was both glorious and heart-wrenching at the same time.
“Come in here, Victor,” the old man had said as the boy passed by his study. The earl had used the name he’d insisted on calling him—Victor had been named Jack at birth and was called that until his mother married the earl—when he’d summoned him.
“Victor, I face a bit of a dilemma,” the old earl had said stiffly as Victor sat down and tried to keep his feet very still, not swinging them in that boyish way that the earl despised. “I have no heirs, despite marrying twice before. I married your mother specifically because you are proof that she is capable of bearing children.”
Victor remembered not understanding the old man fully, yet somehow getting the sense that he did not wish to be speaking of his mother in this way.
“As such, I married her for both her father’s money and her ability to fulfill this duty, yet she has given me no children. I can only assume that the fault may lie with me, and that is something that enrages me greatly. But I must face these facts and forge ahead in order to protect my family,” the earl had continued, his droning, nasally voice making it nearly impossible for Victor to comprehend. “Therefore, I have requested a special remainder to name you as my heir.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Victor had said in a small voice, somewhat fearful of having the old man’s direct attention.
“It means you are to be the Earl of Haskins unless I can manage to sire a boy,” the earl had snapped almost angrily. His features had relaxed slightly when Victor had flinched. “But it will be your responsibility to continue the title’s prominence. If you fail to produce an heir of your own and continue to maintain the respectability that this family has long been known for, then the title will die when you do.”
The particulars of the situation may have been lost on him, but even then, Victor had known it to be a rather grave matter. Sadly, his newfound role in the family had not given the earl cause to appreciate him more than he had before, and if anything, Victor’s presence had only been a constant reminder that the earl had endured some sort of personal failing.
Now, even though he was rightfully and legally the Earl of Haskins, the specter of failure followed him. As always, the ton was the problem. A bunch of high-born hypocrites who’d looked down on him as a boy, they still took great pains to remind him that he was nobody of importance. Marriage was one way to get past that moniker, though, so long as the bride was of the right sort.
Babette? The ton would never acknowledge her. She was not even someone Victor would consider, though he certainly partook of her company often enough. No, he had need of a wife that others admired, even if her father was no duke.
Then Lockhart had to interfere, a fact that Victor fully intended to remedy as soon as he could get this baggage out of his bed and back to the circus where she belonged.
* * *
“And these terms are acceptable to you, Your Grace?” the Earl of Repington asked. “You’re absolutely certain?”
“I am, my lord,” Patrick answered, nodding. “I see no reason for you to ‘purchase’ a duke for your daughter, especially considering that I am a wealthy man through no effort of my own. Lady Bridget is a prize to be won, not a burden to be endured.”
“That is wonderful to hear,” the earl replied, visibly relieved. “Still, I intend to pay out her dowry as promised, though in installments. As you have said that money will be held for her should the unthinkable need arise. She does mean a great deal to me, as does her sister, even though I am an utter failure in my attempts to provide for both of them.”
“Nonsense, my lord. We all make mistakes, some more costly than others. I am also quite intrigued by this school of hers. I cannot honestly say that I know anyone who is so adamant in their desire to serve others. I have only known Lady Bridget for a short time, but I find that I cannot stop thinking about this charitable part of her nature.”
“I wish I could take even some of the credit for that, Your Grace, but that was wholly her mother’s doing.” The earl paused, and Patrick detected a hint of emotion in the older man’s face as he looked away for a moment. “She was always thinking of others, always putting others’ needs before her own. She cared not whether it was a poor man or a duke, she was singular in her devotion to fulfilling her Christian duty to help others.”
“She sounds like an incredible woman, and I am sorry that I did not get to meet her. But as she raised a daughter such as Lady Bridget, then I shall have to be content knowing her through my future wife’s heart and actions.”
“Very nicely said, Your Grace,” the earl said, cheered a bit. “So that only leaves the question of when the ceremony should take place.”
“I should think the usual amount of time would suffice. The banns will be read as required, then the wedding to follow,” Patrick agreed. “I am a simple person, and though I do have a number of good friends, I don’t see the need for an opulent party unless it is something Lady Bridget would wish for.” He paused to ponder something, then said, “But I should think that if I offered her the price of a celebration be given to her school instead, she would gladly accept that.”
The earl laughed. “You don’t know how right you are. She does not permit us to buy her so much as some lengths of ribbon at Christmas time, as that money could go to her young pupils!”
Patrick was amazed. What a truly remarkable and selfless person! Of course, Bridget’s kind nature had been evident the night before, even from the moment he’d spied her dancing with that boor, Haskins. Too considerate to even distance herself from him, she’d waited patiently for someone to rescue her from his ill-mannered advances.
“Then we shall marry in three weeks’ time?” Patrick asked, his attention once again on the contract at hand.
“That is perfectly fine with me, but of course, I should like to ask my daughter’s thoughts on it. She did not say much to me about this entire situation, so given that I find your terms to be delightful, I should speak with her.”
“Of course, my lord,” Patrick replied, nodding. “I find it somewhat astonishing that these negotiations are typically had behind young ladies’ backs. As though they were livestock or bushels of grain to be traded, and their opinion of no consequence.”
“That’s the way of things, I suppose, though in my day, no one even considered the young ladies at all,” the earl replied. “I find it interesting how these matters are changing. Nearly as interesting as how both gentlemen and young ladies these days seem to be more interested in love and affection than wealth and titles.”
Patrick held back a laugh. It was true, he realized, how so many of his friends and classmates seemed to be falling in love rather than seeking solid matches. For his part, though love was of little importance to him, he had always assumed his own marriage would be to a young lady who was at least on friendly terms with him.
“With your permission, my lord, will I be permitted to court Lady Bridget formally? We have a contract now, after all. I should think it would be nice to get to know one another in a friendly way,” Patrick said.
The earl nodded. “Certainly, though with a chaperone, of course. I’ve managed to make a few mild enemies in business, and I would not wish to provide any more fodder that causes people to doubt our family.”
“I understand, and would not have it any other way,” Patrick agreed. “Perhaps if Lady Harriet wishes to accompany us on some outings or at events, then we can help introduce her to someone equally amenable to a marriage match.”
“Your Grace, I am not too proud to admit that it would be a great relief to me if you could offer any assistance in that regard as well,” the earl replied, standing up and walking Patrick to the door. “And thank you… for being the sort of man my daughter deserves in a husband.”
