The Purchased Bride

By Arlene Schreiber

Alix had been designated by her exquisite mother and profligate father as the savior of her family. She was going to be beautiful. She was learned, and yes, she had courage. Her parents surveyed the ton and chose a handful of rich, very rich, men to whom Alix would be sold to. Her mother had sympathy, her father none. Unfortunately, her mother died before the marriage could be arranged.

The earl, Alixs father, had no scruples. He selected the worst of the rich men, and when Alex refused, he beat her, locked her in her room, and then cast her off. Six years later, Lord Jonathan Creighton, a nabob out of India, came on the scene. He needed a wife, and there was a time constraint. He would take what he could get.

The marriage took place, but there was no affection, no alliance. The two crossed swords immediately, but they had to work together.

The story became muddled when Alix discovered she was sharing the house with a half-caste Indian child. Suddenly, Alix was involved in plots, kidnapping, and murder. Almost dying, she and Jonathan realized that they loved each other as well as the child.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984527400

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Marriage Contract

The contract was for a wedding, my lord! Not a bedding!

Considering the subject matter, the tone of Lord Jonathan Creighton’s voice was a trifle lethargic. I thought one was rather implicit in the other?

Not if only one contractee was privy to the items in question, stated the stony-faced lady who stood at the window, staring out at the blackness.

I did not realize that my wife was a lawyer. The contract defined you as a maiden of unexceptional birth and breeding. The gentleman stared at the tall young woman’s back and thought that she had not the appearance of either a lady of class or fashion. Her sprigged muslin dress was faded and badly creased. The hat thrown on a chair had lost whatever style it might have had at least two years ago, and she wore muddied country-walking shoes. Her hair was an untidy mass of red curls that had never been handled by anyone who has any understanding of the art of the coiffeur. She looked, at best, like a country miss and an ill-tempered one at that.

And I was informed just two hours before the ceremony that I was to be a wife. I therefore believe that no romance is implied.

Madam, no romance was intended. However, marriage usually suggests that certain rights are given to the husband if only to provide a heir.

Lord Creighton, I may have been forced under a great deal of duress to marry you, but I promise you this, no heir will be forthcoming.

An eyebrow was raised on the swarthy, otherwise complacent, face of the gentleman. He inspected his nails, straightened his cravat, and stood up. Well then, madam wife, he said with a smile that held more than a hint of a sneer, I’ll bid you a good night and look forward to meeting you at the breakfast table. I trust you will find everything you need, but the housekeeper, Mrs. Brickman, will wait on you if you have need of a maid.

When Alexandria Davenport, now Alexandria Creighton, turned to look at him, her face had a mulish expression, which did nothing to disguise her beauty. The untidy red curls surrounded a perfect oval face of porcelain complexion. She had fine brown eyes and a full mouth, which could not be blemished by temper. In fact, her anger increased her attraction to her new husband, but neither by expression nor word did he imbue her with that information. He gave a courtly bow and went to the door, stood for a moment, and then said over his shoulder, It would save us both a lot of difficulty if we accepted the situation that we find ourselves in. To be at dagger’s point for the rest of our lives will surely be most unpleasant.

I assure you, my lord, that I have no intention of remaining in this situation, which my profligate father placed me.

Lord Creighton turned and faced his new and reluctant bride. Again the black eyebrow was raised but this time, amusement was reflected in his voice and eyes. I am looking forward to see how you can rectify this situation. Did not the wedding service state that the vows once declared could never be put asunder? But perhaps in addition to your legal training, you have also taken clerical vows? We must pursue this discussion at some later time, but now I will leave you to your own company.

That, my lord, is the first acceptable speech I have heard today! Alex turned and went back to the window, looking out at the inhospitable night until she heard the door shut. Her stern, unyielding posture dissolved into one of utter dejection as she threw herself on to the bed and wept tears of silent rage, hurt, and anxiety.

Alex had almost forgotten how to cry and after about five minutes of useless weeping, she arose and went to the mirror. Her hair was a mess, her eyes red and swollen, and she had bitten her lips in her rage. That he would even want to bed you shows how meaningless this whole farce is. You look like something discarded by an angry cat. Alex had no vanity and she could not see beyond the ravages of the past few hours.

She thought back to the last time that she had shed tears. It had been at her mother’s funeral and as they lowered the casket into the ground, she knew that affection and hope for her future were being buried there as well. Her mother, who was a most superficial woman, at least had some love for Alex. Her father for the most part ignored her existence, except when he cast an appraising eye as to her retail value.

She had spent many hours watching her mother at the dressing table that held countless bottles of perfume and jars of rouge. One must always seem to be perfection, ma petit. One must use all that is available to present the most beautiful of appearances when you go out in public. There were so many parties to attend, so many balls to dance at, that there was almost no time for a relationship with a small child. But if her mother spent most of her time on her pleasure, she did enjoy Alex’s admiration and she had an insouciant kind of gaiety that she shared with the child when she allowed Alex the freedom of her boudoir.

Her mother Angelique also delighted in dressing the child, almost as you would a doll, and in teaching her French which was her own native language. However, the earl and his lady were more often in London for the season or in Bath or on the continent, and the child was usually left back at the manor under the care of a governess. An older brother was at Eton and later went to Oxford, and since the estate was rather far from any neighboring houses, Alexandria had no friends and except for her governess, the housekeeper, and the head groom, she had no companionship.

Because of this lonely existence, she turned to books and found much consolation in perusing volumes of history and travel. She had a vivid imagination, and often in her mind she rode on top of a camel in Egypt or an elephant in India and had many adventures, and, as she grew older, she indulged herself in romantic fantasies.

Part of her day was always spent in the stables, and she learned not only how to ride but also how to manage a horse farm. She learned to keep the studbooks and nursed colts and yearlings through their training. She devoted her energy and her love on the horses.

The housekeeper, who both pitied and loved her, taught her about the management of a house, and she followed her about learning her way in the linen closet and the kitchen. If this was a strange occupation for the daughter of an earl, it filled her days and made her life less lonely. The occasional visits of her mother were the joyful moments in this uneventful existence. But all this changed when Alex turned fifteen, when her mother, who had not been home for months looked at her with a calculating eye and called her into her dressing room.

Undress yourself, ma petite.

Alexandra was shocked for she was a modest child and in truth, her mother though fiercely admired, was a stranger. Oh, no, Maman! I couldn’t!

Don’t be a fool, ma cherie, we must decide on your wardrobe for your come-out.

Am I to go to London, then?

But of course, her mother said in her lilting tone. We will present you at a magnificent ball and you will be dressed all in white with white roses in your hair and pearls at your throat. Every man in the room will immediately fall in love with you and ask for your hand. And we, of course, will select the richest of all and you will be the savior of your family.

Alex, whose head was still filled with adventures and romance, did not see this as the kind of future she had envisioned for herself. But Maman, I do not want to marry a man just for money. It is so mercenary. I am not sure I want to marry at all but if I do, it must be for love.

My darling, no one in our set marries for love. That is for peasants and tradespeople. We must be practical. Soon, you will be quite beautiful and will make a splendid alliance.

Please, Maman, do not make me do this!

Alexandria, you will do this and not because it is the conformable thing to do. It is most necessary. Papa has made some bad investments and things are not well with us. You must make a marriage of convenience to a man of financial consequence. It is your familial duty and you will do it willingly.

For what seemed like hours, Alex stood there in her under garments, while the Countess and her dresser examined her carefully. They searched her skin for any adolescent blemishes and determined what lotions should be used. They dressed her in her mother’s clothes and determined the color and styles of the garments that were to be ordered. The dresser brushed her hair in different ways and they selected the most flattering one. Alex was sure no horse led in for auction was so carefully evaluated and groomed.

But the promised come-out never took place. A summer party, dampened petticoats, and vanity gave her mother a summer cold which turned fatal, and her beautiful, self-centered mother played her last public role at a funeral where only Alex really wept.

Her relationship with her father was not a happy one. He had no love for his children and only his son who was to succeed him held any interest for him. Angelique had been selfish and self-indulgent, but she had some love for her children; whereas his father’s disposition was cold and self-centered. He decided that after the year’s mourning period was over, her aunt would present Alex, but he was not prepared for overwhelming resistance.

I will not marry to please you, Papa! I will not go to London and I will not come out. If you insist, I will make myself appear odious to all. I will have no conversation, no manners, and no looks. You will find no one to marry me for you offer no dowry.

The earl attempted to coerce her into submission by any means at his disposal. Every punishment that could be inflicted without marring her was carried out. She was locked in her room to no avail. Her horses and dogs were taken away from her. Her governess was sent away. She was kept in isolation and it only increased her determination. She turned sixteen and was adamant. She would not marry. Finally, in disgust, the earl gave up. If Alexandria would not marry, well then she would pay her way by becoming his housekeeper and the last of Alex’s friends were dismissed. The next six years were spent in isolation at the manor, but Alex though lonely and bored was content. She had her way and she was independent and free of some lecher’s purchase.

Until now! This time Alex had lost. She was married to the unscrupulous man who had just left her room and as she stared at the mirror, she could only see devastation.

CHAPTER 2

Reflection of a Disinherited Son

If his new wife was dejected, so too was Jonathan, Lord Creighton. It had not been his wish to marry and it was not his design to marry the red-haired witch that now cried in the Lady’s suite of Creighton Abbey. Where in hell did this ill-begotten affair begin and, for that matter where will it end, he thought. In hell, I imagine.

Sitting in front of the fire with a brandy glass in hand, he pondered the future. The fire tender held his attention as he thought back to his younger days. It was a wild youth, one with no affection or expectations.

Rather amusing, he thought. I wonder what the old man’s thoughts were when he realized that the disowned son was to inhabit his shoes as well as inherit the estate. Well, the will pretty much expressed them, I suppose. He couldn’t deny me the title but he certainly tried to prevent me from having the Abbey. Hah!

A worthy gesture, Father. I admire the design but unfortunately for your probably justified sentiments, I was able to overturn it, but oh at what cost. He lifted his glass toward the fire and laughed. A toast to you then, old man. May, in your grave, you find my new bride your true revenge, and a toast to you too, my lady, and he threw the glass into the fireplace.

Jonathan was the third son and the least likely to be the heir. In fact he was the most likely to be completely disinherited and forgotten by a father who despised him even prior to his birth (suspecting that the child his dying wife bore was not his). Was it only eighteen years ago at age nineteen that he stood in this very room and heard his choleric father order him from his home and country?

I’ll give you five thousand pounds and not a penny more. You’re to leave England on the first ship and not return. I want no word of you and if you hang, so be it. Red faced and with an inflexible demeanor, the elder man turned his back and stood, disapproving and unapproachable, one booted foot on the fire tender that Jonathan now was staring at so intently.

Jonathan vividly remembered that rigid foot. He had stared at it then as if it had delivered a bone-crushing kick. He remembered too his, oh, too self-righteous brothers sitting and snickering, their faces masks of superiority and rather supercilious aspect. There was no sympathy in either of those two worthies, and Jonathan would have rather been shot in the duel that led to his disgrace than to ask it of any of the three noble gentlemen.