An Unwilling Baroness (10 page)

Maggie hurried toward the washstand her eyes
red, her cheeks puffy from crying. Lifting the pitcher to fill the
basin, her hands trembled nearly as much as Chloe’s.

"Baron Von Richter has asked to see you. You
will dress and prepare yourself for him, do you understand, Chloe?"
Dorothea's voice was shrill, the sound raising the hackles on her
neck.

Despite her weakness, Chloe didn't look at
her stepmother. She refused to meet her gaze, refused to
acknowledge the woman. Dorothea was nothing to her but a freakish
beast, more crazed monster than human.

"And what if I tell the Baron what you’ve
done to me?"

Dorothea flew into the room, her hands
poised to strike. The stinging slap on her cheek had Chloe's nerves
protesting the assault, yet she held her tongue. She would not
yield or cry out. There would be no reply from her lips. The woman
could do her worst, all she had to do was hang on. Simply bide her
time until Jude returned. Determination saturated her and on
trembling legs, she stood her ground.

As if reading her thoughts, Dorothea grabbed
Chloe's face in a tight, punishing grip. Her fingers dug into the
tender flesh, forcing her to face her. Still, Chloe kept her eyes
averted.

"If you're waiting for my son to save you,
know he won't be back for a least a week. He's on a fool's errand
searching for that horse. You will be either wed, or dead and
buried before he sets another boot into Pembridge House." She
released her hold and paced before her. "Perhaps Jude will pay for
your resistance. I have no love for that heartless rascal. He would
leave me penniless."

Chloe finally met her stepmother's gaze.
What she saw in the depths of the harpy’s eyes, had her heart
thundering in her ears. Would the woman truly harm her own flesh
and blood?

"If you refuse to wed the baron, perhaps
Jude will meet with some unfortunate accident."

"How can you be so incredibly evil?" Chloe
asked, clutching the collar of her gown. "He is your son. Could you
bear having his blood on your hands?"

"He ceased to be my son when he ran away,
leaving me in dire straits. These past years have been a huge
struggle to keep up appearances." She narrowed her gaze and stared
at Chloe dispassionately. "Besides, his blood will be on your
father's hands, for all Lord Pembridge needs is my order and my
will shall be done."

"My father is no murderer!" she shouted but
even as she the words spilled from her lips, she realized she
didn't know the man. After all, she'd actually believed he had gone
with Jude in defense of her. He had not gone to save Sebastian or
avenge her attack. He had gone at the bidding of his wife. The
truth was like a dagger to her heart. Dorothea was all important
and she, nothing but a pawn in their game. A game that could cost
Jude his life. The small bit of determination she'd mustered, slid
away leaving her cold.

"Do you hear me? He will come to harm."

"I hear you," Chloe said, wishing she'd
enough strength to shout. But she was defeated. All hope seeped
from her. Her choice was painfully clear.

"The baron is coming to make amends."

"Perhaps the baron needs to hear that you
have kept me locked here against my will. That you threaten his
friend."

Dorothea chuckled. "You won't tell him
anything. If you do, Maggie and May will pay for that particular
bit of mutiny. They've nowhere to go if they are forced from here
with no references. As far as future employers know, Maggie is a
thief and May is a whore. They will starve to death, but not before
the bastard child is born into squalor."

"Bastard child?" Chloe asked, turning
panicked eyes toward the maid.

Maggie's mouth dropped open. "No Ma'am,
punish me but not my sister. She don’t deserve anythin' else ta
happen ta her."

"Workhouse for you and your sister, I should
say." Dorothea rubbed her aged chin thoughtfully. "Or would May
prefer the whorehouse?"

"It weren't like that," Maggie protested.
"She loves him, Miss." Tears sped from her eyes and she looked to
Chloe, her pain so strong she could feel it in her chilled heart.
"She's with child, Lady Chloe." Maggie fell to her knees before her
mistress and friend and grabbed tight to her hands. "Her soul is
good and these things happen. Please, my sister's going ta have a
babe…she's carrying your sister or brother."

Chloe's hand flew to her mouth, hardly able
to comprehend what she heard. Barely able to mumble the words. "My
father?"

"Aye Miss, he sired her unborn child.
P-Please, help her," she begged between sobs. "The baron's a good
man. He'll take you away from here." Maggie buried her face in
Chloe's skirt. "He has fretted over you since learnin' happened. He
cares for you my lady. Please, please save May. Asides you, she's
the only family I got."

CHAPTER TEN

Chloe once again sat in the ladder back
chair, this time facing the door of her bedroom. Dressed in her
best gown, with her hair neatly pinned away from her face, she
waited for Fredrick's arrival. The last time she saw him, his nose
bled and his expression was one of pitiful remorse.

Now, the sound of his voice outside her
locked door had her stomach aching and not with want of food. She
was nauseated, fatigued, shaking…was she dying? Instead of alarming
her, the question offered a strange sort of calm. One way or
another, her torture would be over. But to see Jude again, that was
her one true desire.

To see him and to know he was safe, that is
what she lived for. That and to make certain Maggie and May were
cared for…Maggie, May and her sibling.

But how was she supposed to do that? How?
Damn. Damn. Bloody damn. Her heart grew heavier still. Grief
dragged at her. But more than that, Dorothea's victory gnawed at
her core.

The door swung open and Fredrick pushed his
way in, the smile on his face quickly fading. "Chloe, my dear, are
you still ill?"

"Yes," Dorothea said, rushing into the room
behind him, her eyes narrowed as she settled a warning gaze upon
Chloe. "The fall from the horse followed by a fever has truly
weakened her."

Chloe lifted her gaze and settled her
attention on her stepmother, but didn't reply.

Fredrick knelt before her. His face still
bearing proof of his fight with Jude, blackened eyes and a swollen
nose did little to turn him into the ugly beast she supposed him to
be.

He took her hands in his. "My dear, your
fingers are as cold as ice. You ought to be in bed."

"I can't very well receive you while in I’m
abed, now can I?" she asked, her tone not nearly as cool as she'd
have liked.

His gaze caressed her face and she softened
just a little. He was good, wasn't he? Did he know what her
stepmother had planned, or was he as blind and trusting as she'd
been before all this started? Her jaw trembled with emotion and he
smoothed her cheek with his hand.

"Your skin is chilled," he whispered and
going to the bed, pulled off the blanket, bringing it toward
her.

"You spoil her," Dorothea cooed, aiding
Fredrick in wrapping the warm wool over her shoulders.

"That's all I ever wanted to do," he replied
gruffly, his admission so kind, that she wished for a moment she
could love him. "Have Maggie bring her some broth. She's pale and
cold. She needs something to warm her."

"Baron, please. I can't possibly leave you
alone in her bedchamber with her. It's not proper."

"Propriety be damned, Frau Pembridge. Bring
her some broth and do it now or I will take her from this place
without your consideration. Your obvious ill-treatment of Chloe can
only be described as cruel. What’s the matter with you?" He stood
with his back to Chloe, his arms at his side, his fists curled.
"You Madam are playing a game and I for one don't wish to play
along."

"I-It was for her own good. She was out of
her mind with fever!" Dorothea's face blanched, her fierce
expression sliding from her countenance. Chloe felt herself
warming, not just from the blanket but Fredrick's protection. "I
assure you, sir, I play no games," Dorothea stuttered.

"Then bring Lady Chloe her broth and leave
us alone to discuss our future."

Dorothea backed out of the room, and
Fredrick took three steps forward to slam the door shut in the
woman's face. Chloe fully expected Dorothea to barge back into the
room and reprimand him, yet silence was all that met her ears.

For the first time in days, her mood
lightened the smallest bit. "Have you come to save me?" she asked,
running her hand over the slick fabric of her gown.

"Yes, I have. Maggie has told me all," he
replied, the light from the window touching his dark hair and
reminding her that he was a man and not a monster. "Now the
question is, will you trust me?"

"I would much rather Jude take on that
particular responsibility," she said, her heart skittering. She
stifled a frustrated scream. Dear God, how was she going to do
this? Marry Fredrick at the loss of so much.

His face grew somber, his blue eyes
registering his sorrow. "I realize I'm not your first choice," he
said, his full lips dipping into a frown. "I can accept that."

"You can accept a bride that loves another?"
Her voice cracked. She did not wish to hurt him. He was a good man.
And wouldn't he be making the same mistake her mother had? Marrying
in the hope of finding love…a love she knew would never appear.

Fredrick came to her side and took her
hands. "Fate will decide who you're meant to be with. And even
though my heart belongs to you, I will do what is needed to see
you're cared for."

She opened her mouth to question his odd
reply, but once again when she spoke Dorothea's voice met her ears.
"Here's the broth."

Maggie shuffled in behind the harridan,
carrying a tray. Setting it on the small bedside table, she came to
Chloe to offer her assistance.

"Now, Baron, it's time Chloe rested,"
Dorothea said, an angry edge in her voice. "She will see you
tomorrow."

Chloe offered Fredrick a questioning stare.
But his countenance offered no answer. As much as she didn't want
to, she realized she had to place her trust in him. What choice did
she have?

***

"How are you, Miss?" Maggie asked as she
fastened Chloe's gown. "Are you better? You look as though you are.
The color is back in your cheeks." On and on the woman prattled
until Chloe wanted to scream.

For the first time in their relationship,
the sound of her maid's voice irritated her. Was it because Maggie
had kept the tryst between her father and May a secret? God knew
she shared so much with the maid, yet knew so little of her. Had
she always been so oblivious to the people she loved most? Hadn’t
she been a good listener, and a fine, compassionate person? No! She
had pushed Jude away when he needed her and hadn't noticed Maggie's
sorrow. Her mind refused to see the disrepair of Pembridge…

Dear Lord, she'd been content to believe the
world around her was a glorious place when in reality it was ugly
and dirty. Setting her hand to her stomach, she hoped to quell its
agonizing roil. Today she'd cast off her naïveté and become a part
of the world as it truly was. She would marry out of necessity and
not for love. Her virtue sacrificed on the altar of Dorothea's
greed and her father's infidelity. But mostly she'd wed to see the
man she truly loved was safe from harm. Yes, today she'd become an
unwilling baroness.

"There," Maggie said, taking a step back,
her hands on her cheeks as her gaze traveled up and down Chloe's
body. "You look stunning, a bride to make any groom proud."

"Well, that's fitting," Chloe said, her gaze
chilly as it came to rest upon Maggie. "For I am marrying any
groom, and not the one I choose."

Maggie averted her eyes. "I know Miss and
for my part in that I'm sorry."

"My, my, don't you look lovely," Dorothea
said as she swept into the bedroom, her expression one of sheer and
utter delight. Dressed in bright red, her entire being exuded
joy.

Angry tears trailed from Chloe's eyes. She
had lost. Dorothea had won and the victory was all over her smug
face. How she hated the woman, seethed with it, every bit of her
trying to contain her rage.

Lovely?
Chloe gazed down upon her
pale yellow gown, beautiful in its simplicity. A gift from her
future husband. She didn't feel lovely. No, angry, miserable and
lost, that's how she felt.

"The Reverend Billingsby is here and your
groom awaits. Are you ready to start your new life?"

Chloe didn't answer, she'd nothing more to
say to Dorothea except to wish her eternal damnation. Instead, she
latched on to Maggie's arm for support and they left the
bedroom.

"Where's the wedding Lady Pembridge? At
Saint Paul's?" Maggie asked from the top of the stairs.

"No," Dorothea replied with a chuckle. "The
baron requested the garden. He said that's where he first saw his
beautiful bride and it is there he wishes to wed."

***

The sun dazzled, the birds sang, and the
wind carried the pungent albeit pleasant scent of lavender on
fragrant wings. All around her the world went on as usual, not
recognizing her misery. Despite the beauty that hovered on the
periphery of her brain, her focus rested on the black suit clad man
that stood at the far end of the garden. Tall, with his broad back
to her, dread pinched and poked her and had her fighting the primal
urge to run.

"God, give me strength," Chloe
whispered.

Maggie stroked her hand. "Twill be all
right, I promise. No worries, Miss."

She held tight to Maggie’s arm as her vision
blurred through her tears. Damn, why had she not brought a
handkerchief? Lord knew she'd cry. And why not? She was being
forced to marry and bear the burden of other souls safety. There
would be no fleeing, for Dorothea was just cruel enough to punish
Maggie, May and God forbid, Jude for her disobedience. It was
hopeless. She was
indeed
being led toward the guillotine.
But her sacrifice would be well worth it, if it kept Jude from
harm.