The Bargain Bride Read online

“This is my room” she said in a cold aloof voice, “and next door is the Master suite, which consists of the Earl’s bedroom where David sleeps, also my mother’s bedroom which is just as she left it and a boudoir.”

  She took Mr. Winton into all the rooms and thought that he must be impressed with the huge, heavily carved four-poster bed in the Earl’s bedroom.

  It was hung with red silk curtains that were so faded that parts of them were white.

  But the exquisitely embroidered Blake Coat of Arms over the bedhead seemed to be as bright as it had been when it had first been worked.

  The rugs, however, had gone from the floor, which needed polishing.

  The furniture that David used was a chest of drawers taken from one of the servants’ rooms and chairs that were thought to have had woodworm in them and had therefore been unsaleable.

  There was a particularly fine picture over the mantelpiece of their grandfather in his Peer’s robes. It was very badly in need of cleaning and the frame was damaged.

  As Aleda stared up at him, she thought that he was looking superciliously at her down his aristocratic nose.

  He obviously despised this ‘upstart’ who was presuming to take over the family house of the Blakes in order to glorify his own importance.

  ‘You are right, Grandpapa,’ she said in her heart. ‘He is an outsider.’

  She felt that he understood and it gave her new courage and fortified her pride.

  She then went out of the room saying to Mr. Winton as she did so,

  “On the second floor are the secondary guest rooms. They are mostly empty – at least there is nothing left that we could sell – and the third floor is completely uninhabitable.”

  Mr. Winton made no reply, but then he did not ask to see any more and they then went down the stairs to where the Earl was waiting for them in the hall.

  “I have ordered two horses,” he said to Mr. Winton, “one of which brought me down from London yesterday. I thought you would prefer to ride one of your own.”

  “Thank you, that is what I would wish,” Mr. Winton said.

  He turned to Aleda.

  “Thank you for showing me round the house, Miss Blake,” he said. “No, I think in the circumstances it would be proper for me to address you as ‘Aleda’.”

  She made no comment and he added,

  “In case you have forgotten, my name is ‘Doran’.”

  Again Aleda did not speak and he walked towards the front door followed by the Earl.

  Without asking why she should do so, Aleda went to the top of the steps to watch them ride away.

  Then, she knew that her reason for doing so was to see how Mr. Winton rode.

  As the two men trotted their horses down towards the bridge that spanned the stream and let them into the Park, she had to admit that he rode as well as David.

  She had wanted to find fault, but it was impossible.

  Her father had always been an outstanding rider and Aleda had been put on a horse’s back almost before she could walk.

  She always knew that a man should ride as if he was part of the horse.

  She hated Mr. Winton and would like to have been able to say that he was ham-fisted and heavy in the saddle.

  But she realised, as she watched him riding through the Park and under the oak trees, that he was, with the one exception of her father and brother, one of the best riders she had ever seen.

  ‘I would suppose,’ she said to herself as she went back into the house, ‘this means that we shall have at least one interest in common.’

  Then, as she thought of him as her husband, she felt herself shiver.

  She went into the breakfast room to find that the cups, plates and dishes that they had used at luncheon were being cleared away by Mr. Winton’s servants.

  As she had no wish to talk to any of them, she quickly left the room and went into the Banqueting Hall.

  It was as all the tradesmen had left it with the chairs pushed about in disarray and the floor covered with pieces of paper and other rubbish.

  ‘At least I shall not have to tidy this up,’ Aleda thought.

  She walked into the drawing room and, as it was so closely connected with her mother, she wondered what she would think of what had happened in the house today.

  She supposed that Mr. Winton intended to restore the house to its former glory.

  She had no idea what his taste would be or if it would ever look as it had done when she was a child and she had believed it to be a Fairy Palace.

  If she closed her eyes she could still see the pictures that had been hung on the walls and the line of gold mirrors reflecting the crystal chandeliers.

  The Aubusson carpet that had once covered the floor and the Rose Garden outside, had made brilliant patches of colour.

  It was only when her father had not enough money that he began to sell some of the treasures that had been accumulated down the centuries.

  It was then that Aleda had become aware that things were difficult and that he was very worried.

  The War had made everything worse and when David was in France, her father had died.

  She suddenly found herself with nothing to pay the servants, and no money to buy food.

  Now she had lost her beloved home and everything that was familiar. They belonged to the man who was to be her husband.

  ‘I don’t believe it – it cannot be – true,’ she said frantically beneath her breath.

  At that moment the door opened and she heard somebody come into the room.

  She had been so deep in her thoughts that it then took her a moment or two to compose herself.

  She supposed that it was Mr. Winton and felt that she must turn round and make herself pleasant.

  She could hear him walking towards her, until just before he reached her, she turned, only to stiffen into immobility.

  It was not Mr. Winton, as she had fully anticipated, but Sir Mortimer Shuttle.

  He was looking, she thought, more unattractive than usual.

  Over forty, his hair was greying at the temples and his face was red and slightly debauched.

  He was dressed in the very latest London fashion, but he did not look smart.

  His tight champagne-coloured trousers merely accentuated his protruding stomach. His neck was far too thick for his high cravat and the points of his collar went above his chin.

  “Good afternoon, my beautiful Aleda,” he said in the thick ‘plummy’ voice that she disliked. “How can I be so fortunate as to find you here alone?”

  “I am expecting my brother to return at any moment, Sir Mortimer.”

  “Then I hope he will take longer than you might expect,” Sir Mortimer replied, “for I wish to talk to you.”

  “There is really nothing to discuss,” Aleda said coldly, “as I told you last time you called.”

  “You were very unkind to me,” Sir Mortimer complained, “and, so hearing about your brother’s unhappy circumstances, I have, of course, called to offer him my sympathy.”

  As he spoke, Aleda was well aware why he had not come, as Lord Fulbourne and David’s other friends had, to the sale.

  He had arrived when it was too late to buy anything and he obviously hoped that the catastrophe would make her change her mind about him.

  It was typical, she thought, of the way he was determined to force her into agreeing that she should accept his protection.

  She supposed he had anticipated that David had been taken by the tradesmen before the Magistrates’ Court or guessed that he would have to face them tomorrow or the next day.

  She might have been so desperate that she would have even stooped to ask Sir Mortimer for help.

  It was what he was banking on and she knew he had timed his arrival for what he thought would be the exact moment when she was at her weakest.

  Sir Mortimer was gazing at her with a swimming expression in his bloodshot eyes that completely repulsed her.

  As if he was curious to know exactly what had happened, he said,

  “You maintain that your brother has left, but is he joining you shortly? So he is still here?”

  “Yes, he is still here,” Aleda replied.

  There was silence.

  Then Sir Mortimer asked her,

  “I understood that his creditors called on him this morning.”

  “Yes, they did.”

  Again there was silence until Sir Mortimer said,

  “I am very sorry that he should be in such an uncomfortable position, but I am sure that it will take a load off his shoulders to know that I will look after you.”

  Aleda laughed.

  “Do I really have to listen to the same old argument we have had so often before?” she asked. “Let me make it quite clear, Sir Mortimer, I do not require your help and even if I was drowning I would not allow you to save me!”

  Sir Mortimer came nearer to her.

  “Now don’t be ridiculous, my dear,” he said. “You cannot stay on here without any servants, without any food and without any hope for the future.”

  Aleda would have spoken, but he bored on before she could do so,

  “You know that I have offered you anything in the world you could wish for and I have, as it happens, already found the perfect little house for you in Chelsea where you will be very happy.”

  Aleda made a little sound that was one of disgust, but he did not understand and carried on,

  “You shall have two servants to look after you, a carriage, and other horses you can ride in Rotten Row where I know that, looking as you do, you will be a sensation.”

  “I have heard all this before,” Aleda parried, “so, please, Sir Mortimer, go away and stop insulting me.”

  “You know it is not an insult,” Sir Mortimer said angrily, “and I am prepared to swear that if my wife died I would marry you.”

  “From all that I have heard,” Aleda said mockingly, “Lady Shuttle is in excellent health and so are your children.”

  “Dammit!” Sir Mortimer swore coming nearer to her, “you would try the patience of a Saint! I want you, Aleda and how can you prefer starving to death in this dirty rabbit warren rather than having every comfort I can give you?”

  “Unfortunately ‘every comfort’ includes you!” Aleda said.

  As soon as she spoke, she knew that she had made a mistake and had gone too far.

  Because she disliked him and because she considered that he had insulted her with his vulgar offer of protection, she had deliberately defied him.

  Instead she should have run away to hide herself somewhere in the house where he could not find her.

  He was a large man and, before she could move, he put his arms around her and held her captive.

  “I love you!” he almost shouted, “and I will make you love me, then we will have no more of this nonsense. You are mine, Aleda, mine, as I have always meant that you should be from the very first moment I saw you.”

  His arms drew her close against his chest and she started to fight him.

  She was aware as she did so that it was like battling against steel bars and that every effort she made, because she was weak and rather frail, was ineffective.

  He was drawing her closer and closer and now his lips were seeking hers.

  As she turned her head from side to side, she felt completely helpless.

  Now his lips were on her cheek and she could feel them, hot and hungry, as if they were devouring her as an animal might have done.

  It was then that she screamed.

  She thought as she did so that Sir Mortimer was past caring, and was only inflamed by his passion to the point where he had lost control of every decent feeling.

  His mouth was moving over her cheek towards hers and she screamed again.

  The door opened.

  Because for the moment he was blind and deaf to everything except for his own desire, Sir Mortimer was not aware that Mr. Winton and the Earl had come into the room.

  They both stood still for a moment staring in astonishment at what was taking place.

  “What the devil do you think you are doing?” the Earl now exclaimed.

  As he spoke, Mr. Winton moved forward and Sir Mortimer saw him.

  His arms slackened and Aleda managed to fight herself free.

  She ran across the room, meaning to throw herself against David for protection.

  But Mr. Winton was in front of him and, because she was too frightened to see where she was going, she bumped against him and instinctively clung to him.

  He could feel her whole body trembling as she cried out helplessly,

  “Save me – save me!”

  The Earl reached Sir Mortimer first.

  “Get out of my house!” he yelled furiously, “and leave my sister alone.”

  “Now look here, young man – ” Sir Mortimer began.

  “I will not listen to you and so you will do as I say or I will throw you out!” the Earl replied angrily.

  “I thought you would be in the Fleet Prison by this time,” Sir Mortimer retorted jeeringly, “or is it a question of my just waiting until your sister is utterly and completely desolate?”

  Because the way he spoke infuriated the Earl even more, he clenched his fists and raised his arm as if to strike Sir Mortimer.

  Mr. Winton, however, had put Aleda down on the sofa and was now on the other side of Sir Mortimer.

  “Blakeney has told you to get out of his house, which now happens to be mine,” he said, “and for your information Lady Aleda Blake has promised to become my wife, so if I ever find you speaking to her again, I shall call you out and that is no idle threat!”

  Sir Mortimer was so astonished at what Mr. Winton had to say that he merely stared at him while his face grew even redder than usual.

  Finding his voice, and taking several seconds to make up his mind, he asked,

  “Did you say that Lady Aleda is to become – your wife?”

  “You heard what I said and also that I forbid you ever to come in contact with her,” Mr. Winton answered. “Now get out before I throw you down the steps and hope that the fall renders you unconscious!”

  He spoke without raising his voice, but every word sounded like a whiplash.

  It seemed as if Sir Mortimer could still hardly believe what he was hearing.

  But, as Mr. Winton towered over him, he became aware that discretion was the better part of valour.

  He therefore walked with what dignity he could still muster towards the door.

  Only as he reached it did he look to where Aleda was sitting on the sofa.

  Then seeing that Mr. Winton and the Earl were watching him, he went out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  David went to his sister’s side.

  “I should have knocked him down,” he said, “and I would have if Winton had not intervened.”

  Aleda wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.

  “He came – here,” she said, “only because he – thought that the tradesmen – would have taken you away and I would be – completely defenceless!”

  “He is utterly despicable!” the Earl exclaimed.

  “I can – only thank – God that you – came back when you did,” Aleda murmured. “I hate him! I hate – all men! They are – foul and – disgusting.”

  She spoke violently and only when she had done so did she remember that she was not speaking only to her brother but that Mr. Winton was also listening.

  Too late she was aware that she should have controlled her feelings at least while he was there.

  Then, because she felt that there was nothing she could say and to try to explain would only make it worse, she jumped up from the sofa and ran out of the room.

  She crossed the hall and tore up the stairs.

  Only as she reached her bedroom did she fling herself down on the bed and hide her face in the pillow.

  It was then that she burst into a flood tears.

  She cried as a child might have done for her mother, for her home and for the happiness she had once known, which seemed to have forsaken her forever.

  *

  Downstairs Mr. Winton waited until he could no longer hear the sound of Aleda’s footsteps running across the hall.

  Then in a hard voice he asked,

  “Who is that man and why is he involved with your sister?”

  “He is Sir Mortimer Shuttle,” the Earl replied. “He came here by chance when his horse cast a shoe and he called thinking that we might have a blacksmith on the premises.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “I think it was about a month ago,” the Earl answered, “and since then Aleda tells me that he has repeatedly offered her his protection.”

  “I have never heard of anything so damned insulting!” Mr. Winton exclaimed.

  “I thought the same thing,” the Earl answered. “But he is a married man, so I suppose there was nothing else he could do.”

  “I should have let you knock him down,” Mr. Winton said, “but I will take good care, as I have already said, that he does not speak to her again.”

  The Earl looked somewhat embarrassed as he walked across the room before he declared,

  “You will understand that, as Aleda has only met men like that, she is somewhat prejudiced about them.”

  He was thinking as he spoke that it would be quite utterly disastrous if Winton, knowing now what Aleda’s real feelings were, cried off the whole deal.

  To his relief, however, Mr. Winton said in a different tone,

  “I think you must have a map of the estate somewhere here if you will find it for me and point out to me where the farms are situated. It would also be useful to know the boundaries.”

  “Yes, of course,” the Earl agreed at once.

  He was so relieved that Winton had not been offended by the way that Aleda had spoken that he walked eagerly towards the door, saying as he did so,

  “The maps are kept in what used to be the Estate Office in my grandfather’s day. Come and see them with me and while we are doing so, I could do with yet another glass of your excellent champagne if it is not finished.”

  “I would enjoy a glass myself,” Mr. Winton replied, “before I return to London.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As the Earl drove Aleda to London in his phaeton, she felt as if she was going to the guillotine.