Chapter 1 #2
“Purchasing a wife outright?” Milton met her gaze with amusement.
“I believe I can, and will, purchase one of you, as your father agreed to as much over our game of cards last night.” He watched her face fall.
“However, as you are obviously not enamored of my suit”—he had her attention now—“I shall offer for your sister instead, who strikes me as more amenable in temperament.”
***
Elizabeth gripped Annabelle’s hand, unable to bear her sister’s stricken expression a second longer. “Baron.” She drew herself tall, willing her racing heart to calm. “My sister has not been brought out yet formally in society.”
“Plenty of girls marry younger than nineteen. She is my preferred choice.”
“Please!” escaped her lips. “Papa!” She turned to him, yet his eyes would not meet hers, the coward. The situation was so alarming, so unexpected, it simply must be a misunderstanding.
She gripped Annabelle’s hand more tightly. “Baron, I beg you to reconsider your offer. Surely there are more suitable—”
“Miss Winthrop, having successfully haggled such high price for your sister, are you now proposing I offer for you instead?”
She could have sworn the man’s ice-blue eyes sparked.
“I…” She madly deliberated in her head. If she did not act now, Annabelle would be lost, though if she offered herself, she’d be lost. Still, tomorrow was another day. She could solve the problem then.
“Yes.” Elizabeth swallowed her panic and bowed her head.
“Take me instead.” Annabelle tugged furiously on her hand, but Elizabeth merely squeezed back, hard.
“I should make you a better wife, sir, being older and wiser.” She kept her head bent, not wishing to look at him but wishing to buy time to think.
“Hmm.” He stepped forward to tilt her chin and stare into her eyes, just as the butcher had. “Wiser, perhaps. But not nearly as pretty as your sister.”
Her body flushed hot with pride. “Surely you require your wife to be more than mere decoration.” Her temper heated. “A wife must manage a household, and I assure you I—”
“She must also bear me heirs.” His hands slipped to her waist, gliding low over her hips to boldly assess.
Elizabeth roughly pushed his hands off, but he quickly imprisoned hers in an iron grip.
“I have changed my mind, Winthrop,” he announced to Papa. “I shall take your eldest daughter as wife instead, for four thousand pounds.”
Annabelle gasped as Lizzie met the scoundrel’s eyes in a bitter, bitter stare, his insult not lost on her.
“And now I should like a moment alone with my betrothed.” His cold, cobalt gaze remained locked on hers. “Leave us,” he ordered Papa, who hurried Annabelle out as fast as his scurrying legs could take him. Bella shot Elizabeth an anguished, parting look as she was dragged away.
Their father had failed them yet again.
The Baron, meanwhile, stepped back to take stock of her, his purchase. “You argue much.” He crossed his arms. “But you appear robust in health, your tongue sufficiently sharp to suit my needs. I expect complete obedience from my wife, but will in turn keep her in great comfort.”
“You … beast!” she cried, now that they were alone. “I shall never—!”
He pulled her up against his hard, lean form only to stare down at the rise and fall of her chest. “We will wed in one week’s time, and when we do, your allegiance will be only to me.
I do not require affection in marriage, but I do expect fealty.
I am no beast, Miss Winthrop, and will honor the same wedding vows you, too, swear to uphold. ”
“No honorable man behaves like you.” She skewered him through her spectacles. “And obedience is granted not demanded.”
“Ah.” He smiled. “My future wife would command my fealty too.” He pulled her lower lip down with his thumb to expose her teeth.
And then he leaned in, his breath blowing hot at her ear to send tremors down her spine.
“Tell me, Lizzie”—too familiar, too fast—“does it not excite you in the slightest to have a man command you?”
Her breath hitched.
“Are you not, perhaps, the least bit aroused by my bold offer of marriage?”
She attempted to squirm free but was backed against her father’s desk, his hand up her skirts before she could blink. “Get. Off. Me!”
“Shh, Lizzie.” His teeth pulled at her earlobe now, making her heart gallop as his hand inched higher up her thigh, fingers tracing a frightening path along her thin drawers.
“I merely need to ascertain you are indeed the maiden your father claims.” He landed at the gap in her drawers, making her gasp outright.
“I see you are affected by me, good.”
Before she knew it his finger slipped inside her shamefully slick channel, making her mouth fall open in a silent plea for help, her brain gone blank, voice utterly fled.
“I am delighted to discover you remain both chaste, Miss Winthrop, and eager for our wedding night.” He stroked her a moment longer, making her shake beneath his touch.
“I promise you great pleasure, Lizzie, provided you obey me.” He slipped his hand back out, smoothed her skirts, and righted her on her feet.
Elizabeth remained frozen in place, staring at this stranger who had just violated her so shamelessly. He straightened his cravat and then adjusted her spectacles, the finger he’d had inside her landing briefly on her nose.
“I shall procure a special license and arrange for a modiste to fit you for both your wedding dress and trousseau. The ceremony will be brief, the celebration after more grand. I see no reason for a long betrothal when the aim of marriage is, after all, pragmatic.”
“Prag-matic?” She could barely speak, still weak-kneed from his assault. Her cheeks burned as if on fire.
“I require heirs, Miss Winthrop. Many, I hope.” His eyes, hooded from their encounter, drifted lazily to her own. “And I assure you, I do now look forward to that process.”
He took her hand and brushed warm lips across her knuckles before he let himself out.
Elizabeth Winthrop slid slowly to the floor in a none-too-elegant slump. She could scarce believe what had just been done.