Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

“ I was expecting you this morning,” Ambrose said calmly as William stepped through his door. “So, I prepared.”

Upon seeing the other man in his uncle’s study, his later father’s solicitor, Lodge Needs, sitting in a wingback and sipping a cup of coffee, William murmured, “I see that.”

“Before we get into the proceedings, I am profoundly insulted that I did not merit an invitation to your wedding,” Ambrose dropped that morning’s edition of the Times on his desk, the headline, in bold black, Beast of Brookhaven Marries Seamstress.

William took the paper and skimmed over it, then casually dropped it again. “I apologize. But it was nothing spectacular. I doubt you would have even enjoyed it. Anyway—” he pulled a folded document from his inner jacket, “—my marriage license, if you need proof.”

“If I may, Your Grace,” Lodge took the paper from him and unfolded it.

While he read it over, William apologized to his uncle again. “The night before, I was drinking with company, a last hurrah to my bachelorhood, and I apologize for not paying attention to detail.”

Ambrose lifted a brow, “You got drunk before your wedding day?”

“No,” William shook his head. “I wouldn’t disrespect her that way. It was simply a last salute to my single days.”

“Ahem,” Lodge cleared his throat. “May I have your attention, Your Grace, and my lord?”

As they joined the solicitor, the man withdrew a document from his valise and opened it. “Before we begin, may I give my felicitations, Your Grace. I wish you a long and delightful marriage.”

“Thank you,” William replied, choosing to stand instead of sit. He simply wanted to hear seven words; your inheritance is now available to you so he could move to the bank.

“…That being said, according to your late father, and this is his direct statement, my son, William Hartwell, upon his marriage to whichever lady he sees fitting, is to be issued his million dollar pound—”

His heartbeat increased.

“— upon being married and staying married to the lady and residing in the same domicile for a consecutive two months. Only when such time has passed, and upon approval of my brother Ambrose Hartwell, will the sum be issued.”

William flinched. “ What ?”

Lodge folded the paper. “I am sorry, Your Grace, but these are your father’s words and until these terms are met, your inheritance will still be withheld by your uncle.”

Even from the grave, you have bested me, father.

Throat tight, William crossed the room to pull a glass of whisky from a shelf and poured a finger. As stoic as he could, he muttered, “That is… disappointing.” Throwing back the drink, he reveled in the burn. “Here’s to you, father.”

“You were hoping for something else,” Ambrose stated bluntly.

“Without a doubt,” William replied. “But I suppose I will have to do as stated.”

Ambrose tilted his head. “You will have to do as stated? Perchance, did you marry that girl simply to acquire your inheritance or because of the scandals surrounding the two of you?”

The grip William had on his glass tightened to the point his knuckles went white. “No.” His eyes narrowed, even though his conscience smarted with the lie. “I married Bridget because I love her, and I see….” He paused. I see a hurting heart that narrowly mirrors mine “…a tender soul within her, one that craves comfort instead of what the other ladies want, riches and status.”

His uncle’s brows met his hairline and he shared a look with Lodge. When he did face William, his voice was deep with astonishment and respect. “I would have never… expected that from you.”

“I may have a hard head and a jaded past,” William added calmly. “But I am not immune to emotions.”

“Another thing I had not expected to hear from you,” Ambrose replied, but he reached out and laid a hand on William’s shoulder. “You’ve grown, my boy. I am happy to see it.”

His fingers shifted to press on William’s jaw. “What happened here?”

“Your Grace,” Lane bowed. “Two ladies are here to see you, Ladies Josephine Simons and Eleanor Pembroke.”

Head snapping up from the book on her lap, she exclaimed, “They’re here! Please, send them in and some refreshments too please.”

She stood up as the two entered, Ellie in a gorgeous bronze dress and Josie in a pale-yellow dress filled with bows and ribbons.

Delighted, she embraced both and sighed. “I am so sorry,” she shook her head. “I am the worst of friends, I should have visited.”

“Nonsense,” Josie shook her head in turn, “You are a newlywed, Bridget. We suspected you would be… occupied.”

While Ellie snickered, her friend's meaning was not lost on Bridget and her face brightened. Ellie leaned in, her eyes glittering, “How was the marriage night, dear? Inquiring minds want to know.”

“A lady does not kiss and tell,” Bridget said, hoping her red face would convince the two otherwise.

“You are married to the rakehell of London,” Josie tutted. “Surely, he wouldn’t have scorned the one night of socially acceptable coupling.”

“Maybe he is addicted to the thrill of jumping out of a widow’s window,” Ellie laughed. “But enough, Josie, we’re embarrassing the poor girl. Surely, there is something else to talk about.”

The three shared a look, only to burst into peals of laughter while Lane entered the room and sat the tray of tea and sweet morsels down. Bridget thanked him, then turned to Ellie, “So, what engagements are you planning on enjoying for the rest of the season?”

Stepping into his home, William peeled his jacket away and headed to his study—and stepped in, only to pause. Surrounded by papers, Bridget had a quill clamped between her teeth, a smear of ink across her cheek, and with her hair up in a tousled knot, she pored over them.

“What on earth are you doing?” he asked, nearing.

She startled and he found he quite liked her wide doe-eyed look. Gently, he drew the quill from her teeth and rubbed the smear of ink away. The rounded curve of her cheeks reminded him of a blushing peach and felt smooth as silk.

“I am attempting to create nutritious menus for the pair of us,” she began.

“ Menus ,” he echoed.

“Yes,” she pulled away and focused on her papers. “I know you men believe you can survive on coffee, brandy, and the humor of other men, but I believe you, in your special circumstance, need something more.”

Pressing his backside to the table, he plucked a paper up. “Coddled eggs, grilled kidney or cold ham, cornmeal cakes, brioche bread. Tea, coffee, and hot chocolate, hm.”

“You are not in favor?”

“No, actually, I don’t remember eating this, well, not since I was a child,” he replied. “Please add veal.”

“Why, thank you.” She smiled, then handed the other paper to him. “Input?”

“Pheasant pie, roast, asparagus, hare stew, brown bread, lobster, chicken cuts and game pies, wine, brandy and for supper, cold cuts, sweet and savory pies and tarts, fruits and marzipan,” he listed off, then wrinkled his nose. “ Negus ? God no, I despise that thing.”

“I shall remove that, then.” She struck it through. “And this is all under thirty pounds. You have your healthy meals, and we have a selection to choose from all month.”

“Beauty and brains,” he murmured, “Why are you doing all this?”

She smiled. “As your wife, is it not my duty to care for you?”

“Duty, hm?” he murmured. “Is that why you’ve tended to me?”

Her heart thumping, she continued, “Well, no, I mean... I mean to say, I am your wife. Obviously, I should do my womanly duties and make sure the basic needs are covered. I remember my mother making menus for us so I—I thought it was right to do. Erm, how was your day?”

Gently, he drew her from her seat and widened his legs to pull her into the vee of them. Dropping her hips, he held her squarely. “It was a disappointment, but I can work around it.”

Her brows furrowed. “You didn’t get your inheritance?”

“No, well, not yet. My father decreed that we must be married for two months before I can attain it,” he replied. “But I am not as upset as I might have thought. Our relationship is something I want to discuss with you.”

She searched his eyes, “Yes?”

He bent his head, his mouth claiming hers. His kiss was gentle yet masterful and she clutched at his arms. When his tongue swept against the seam of her mouth, it felt natural to open to him. William slid his fingers around her nape, anchoring her as he courted her mouth with slow, drugging kisses.

He delved deeper, sliding his tongue against hers, and she moaned with desperate need. Against his own desire, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead briefly against hers.

“You’re so bloody sweet,” he brushed his lips across her cheek. “I could taste you all day.”

Bridget blinked. “I didn’t realize you wanted to add me to the menu.”

He stared at her… then threw his head back and bellowed out a laugh.

Hearing his unrestrained mirth, seeing the crinkles on the sides of his eyes, and feeling the rumbling vibrations from his chest, all made her heart warm. It was the first time she had broken through the stoic fa?ade he always wore. His laughter was infectious, and she joined in, enjoying the lighthearted moment.

I’ve finally seen the heart of him.

Chuckling, he kissed her cheek, “That is the first time I can remember laughing that hard. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“What did you want to ask?” She smoothed her hand over his brocade waistcoat.

“Just a moment ago, you mentioned basic needs ,” he pulled her closer so she could feel his arousal. Bridget’s cheeks warmed but she kept her head up high. “I must ask, do you want to take our intimate arrangement another notch?”

Her brows lifted. “I do… but what do you mean?”

“I want your hands on me,” he replied, dipping to sweep her legs from under her and lifting her into his arms. Clutching his shoulders, she stared at him with lust-glazed eyes as he carried her into his bedchamber.

“You are light as thistledown,” he murmured while padding down the corridor. “You’re so soft and delicate. When I think of another man near you, I feel like a troglodyte, willing and ready to grasp a club and beat them off you.”

She giggled. “Do you have a club?”

“Yes, somewhere,” he murmured while kicking the door in and resting her on her bed.

She peered down at the huge bulge straining the front of his trousers. “I suppose you want my hands on you…” She moistened her lips, “…there?”

He gave her a slow, beautiful smile while peeling the cravat from his neck and undoing his cufflinks. “Yes.”

As he tore his shirt away, she avidly took in the springy dark hair that was sprinkled over his taut skin, the softer trail bisecting it that delineated the muscles of his torso.

Once again, her eyes dropped to his legs and back up to his shoulders, the muscles flexing as he undid his trousers and kicked away his boots.

Her breath held as William removed the rest of his clothes, his thick rod ruddy with arousal, her heart thudding as he grasped himself and ran his fist along the thick and veiny shaft. At the base, his male sac hung heavily between his corded thighs.

Fully naked now, he pressed a knee to the bed and she got to her knees, waiting for him to join her. He pressed his back to the headboard and spread a knee wide. “Come here.”

He took both her hands, fixed one at the base of his length, and carefully curled the other around his sac. She grasped his heavy stones and kneaded them gently as she twisted her hand around his base.

She fixed her grip on him and began to stroke; his head lolling back in bliss as she gripped him with a firmer fist, dragging her palm up and down his shaft, and the pleasure that strained his face made her want to take him to the pinnacle of bliss.

When her thumb surged up the thick vein on his underside, he spurted. Bridget swiped her thumb over his crown, wicking the droplets away, and William opened his eyes as she stuck her thumb into her mouth.

“Devil and damn,” he grunted, a shudder wracking through him, “You’re going to kill a man.”

“From only that? hm? What about this?” Bravely, she wrapped her lips around his crown and slowly took the length of his manhood into her mouth.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to—” Another more fervent shudder racked him as she suckled on his length. “Christ!”

A groan tore from his chest as hot, wet fire clamped around his manhood and the cord of his neck stood stark as she lapped at the bulging crimson crown, her tongue dipping into the slit.

Delirious, he said, “Take me deeper, pet,” he bit out. “Open wider, use your tongue, hell, yes—”

She moaned in response and moved her hair out of the way so he could watch her pink lips go down on his member. His thighs tensed, belly flexing as he swelled in her hand.

With a guttural groan, he released her hair, pulled his length from her lips, cupped her face, and stroked his thumb over her swollen lips. Looking up at him slowly, her breath caught at the stark male hunger in his gaze.

With a ragged, impatient groan, he pulled her into his side—his expression was tight, the flesh drawn over his cheekbones, his eyes narrowed, his lips heavy with sensuality.

Fixing her hand around him again, she took his mouth in a blistering kiss, threaded her fingers through the thick strands of his hair, and melded her mouth to his, kissing him with wild passion and sensual greed. They kissed passionately, with one of her arms around his neck, the other still stroking his length.

He fixed his hand around hers, tightening the grip as he groaned into her mouth. His body jerked as his seed became a hot geyser over her palm.

With a gasp, he fell against the headboard, breathless. The pleasure marked his face and soft breath left his parted lips. Gently, he pulled their hands from his tender skin and nuzzled his nose into her temple.

“I feel boneless,” he admitted. “This is a first for me. Normally, I would feel this way after the act.”

Her lashes swept up. “Are we…ever going to…”

“The act? That is up to you.” He nipped at her ear while his fingers strayed over her bodice and his thumb swept over her nipple. “Do you want me to return the favor, my sweet?”

Smoothing a hand down his chest, she smiled, “Maybe tonight.”

“Tonight, I am back on the search for your brother,” William settled down in the pillows. “But dawn, I promise.”

She leveled up an elbow. “Are you concerned about taking my innocence?”

William cleared his throat, “Well… yes. The arrangement is for us to part at the end of this partnership with you fully, well, equipped to marry again, and your maidenhead is your biggest bargaining chip,” he held her eyes, voice dropping. “…Or is that not what you want?”