Weekend at Baron E's Read online

  Weekend at Baron E’s

  Regency Romps Book 2

  Ebony Oaten

  Copyright © 2022 by Ebony Oaten

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Weekend at Baron E’s

  Ebony Oaten

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  About Ebony Oaten

  Also By Ebony Oaten

  Weekend at Baron E’s

  Ebony Oaten

  Miss Jane Bartholomew, innocent and dutiful, has just been married to a Baron more than three times her age. A Baron with grown children who resent her existence, and the threat to their inheritance. She knows that she needs to bear him an heir as soon as possible, even if that looks to be challenging to achieve.

  When the Baron expires at the worst possible moment, Jane, with the help of the most handsome footman she has ever seen, must take desperate measures to keep the truth from the rapacious relatives, lest she, and all of the staff, end up cast out, penniless.

  Will desperation lead to love or disaster?

  * * *

  Uses US spelling.

  1

  Summer, 1816

  The marriage ceremony was a simple and brief affair. Uncle William led the bride, Miss Jane Bartholemew, down the aisle in place of her dearly departed father. Mama sat in the front row, dabbing a handkerchief to moist eyes.

  The groom, Baron Ealing, remained seated during the entire enterprise.

  Rain fell heavily on the church’s tiled roof and smacked against the stained-glass windows.

  It was only as Jane turned to him that she realized The Baron sat in a wheeled chair. A handsome footman stood to his side, ready to offer his assistance. When it came time to sign the registry, the footman held the book for his master to sign his spidery scrawl.

  Jane did not spend much time looking at her husband’s face. Nor did he spend much time looking at hers. In fact, they had met only twice before, both times heavily chaperoned and both times The Baron had not stood up to greet her. Could the man walk at all? And if he could not, did that mean he would need assistance in the marriage bed?

  Jane swatted the thought away.

  As Jane signed the registry, the footman said, “Welcome to the family, Lady Ealing.”

  The smile he gave her was warm and welcoming, as if to make up for her husband’s shyness. Or perhaps it was that the man was unable to crane his head upwards? He had spent the entire ceremony looking into his lap, as if the blanket there held great fascination.

  At the wedding breakfast, her husband ate nothing. He sipped tea when it arrived, spilling most of it down his chin. Nobody made note of this, willfully looking the other way.

  After the modest breakfast, they departed for the Baron’s estate in his landau. Mama and Jane’s maid Abigail would follow in a carriage behind.

  A pair of magnificent chestnut horses whickered and pawed the ground, ready to take them home. The footman and the driver worked each side of the landau to secure the roof into place to keep the rain at bay. Then the footman bodily lifted the Baron into his seat and made him comfortable, before extending a hand to assist Jane into her seat. The driver stepped up into his position on the box and they were off to her new life.

  How strange that the footman remained inside the carriage, rather than riding behind in his designated position? As if reading her thoughts, the footman said, “I daresay, Ma’am, this is unusual. However, the Baron is prone to napping at inopportune moments, and if he slipped whilst the carriage was in motion, we would have great difficulty in his safe removal.”

  “How thoughtful,” Jane managed.

  The Baron made a muffled noise of “Notdeadyet!” but did not lift his head.

  The carriage rocked and swayed towards the Baron’s estate. It would take hours, and Jane quickly became irritated with the extended silence. “My Lord,” she said, attempting to strike up a conversation with her husband. “It was a lovely service, was it not?”

  “Muh?” He muttered, still not lifting his head.

  Jane raised her voice, “A lovely service.”

  It elicited a mumbled “Hmm, ‘pose so.”

  The footman spoke up, “He tires easily, My Lady, he may need some sleep.”

  Jane could see why the footman had such a position. He was tall and apparently strong, judging by the way he’d carried his master into the carriage. He was handsome, as would be expected of a footman, but he also showed great gentleness in caring for the Baron, something that made him even more attractive in Jane’s eyes.

  In a few moments, the footman had wrapped The Baron with more blankets and laid him further onto the squabs so that he could sleep more comfortably. It meant the footman had no space of his own to sit, so he moved himself into the space beside Jane.

  Their thighs touched as the carriage bumped, sending a jolt of something Jane did not recognize through her.

  The footman immediately apologized. “I do beg your pardon.”

  Jane used the motion of the next series of bumps to press herself closer to the window. The carriage tilted and she found herself thrown against him.

  “Goodness,” she cried, “I am dreadfully sorry.”

  “My fault, My Lady,” he said, “I have not had time to replace all the handles. If you should like to change positions, there is a handle here you may cling to.”

  A lovely sentiment, but there was no chance of them exchanging seats as the carriage rocked and rolled like this.

  “I will be fine,” she said.

  The Baron began snoring voluminously, then suddenly stopped.

  “Is he?” Jane feared The Baron stopped breathing all together.

  A noisy inhale had him breathing again, and Jane’s tension ebbed. “Goodness, I thought for a moment there he may have breathed his last.”

  “Have no fear, My Lady, despite appearances, he is as healthy as an Ox. The Warners are from a long line of long-livers. The fifth Baron lived to six and seventy, and the fourth was rumored to have lived to ninety.”

  “And,” Jane felt a fool for having to ask the question, but she truly did not know. “How old is the Baron now?”

  “He is nine and sixty.”

  “Goodness,” Jane blurted. Was it any wonder he needed a wheeled chair to get about? She’d heard rumours of people reaching such great ages, but had not, until now, ever met one in the flesh. The very wrinkly, crumpled flesh. And now she was married to one.

  “Footman, what term does the Baron use to address you?”

  The man looked up and gave a half-smile that should have been polite, but sent flurries of confusion through her. “He usually calls me ‘Boy’.”

  How wildly inappropriate. “Is that your preference?”

  The footman cast a confused expression her way. “Is that important, My Lady?”

  “It does seem incongruous to call any male who is a good half foot taller than me ‘boy’ don’t you think? I shall call you Mister Footman if you have no other preference?”

  At this he delivered a broad grin of acceptance and more flurries she couldn’t put a name to tumbled about behind her ribs. Goodness, perhaps it would be best if they not speak that often to each other if a mere smile did such strange things to her?

  This was all Mama’s fault. If Mama were traveling in this carriage with her, she would not need to pass the time by
speaking with a footman. Instead, Mama and her maid, Abigail, were in the second carriage and conversation with them at such a distance, and with so much noise, was impossible. They could, however, wave to one another as they took the turn in the road, as the angle allowed a brief glimpse of the passengers behind.

  Oh drat. The footman caught her looking his way. Why did his brown eyes have to be so warm and inviting? Why did his lashes clump together in the swirling drizzle?

  Mama and Abigail prepared Jane for the master’s bed. Abigail tucked her hair into the nightcap and made a bobbed curtsey. “Ring the bell in the morning and I shall help you dress.”

  Mama embraced Jane and gave her a motherly kiss on the forehead. “All shall be well. Now get into the bed, my dear Baroness. Your husband will come in soon and get you with child.” Then Mama gave her another quick kiss and left the room

  Cold fear seeped through every pore, as she pulled the covers back and climbed into the bed. The candles flickered in their holders reflecting her juddering nerves. A few moments later, the door opened and The Baron and his footman came through the door. They both completely ignored her, making her feel small and insignificant. Her husband needed assistance in dressing for the evening. She lay there, staring at the ceiling and saying nothing, as the footman pulled the old man’s boots off, then undressed him completely. With a quick bow, he bid the Baron goodnight and did not even acknowledge Jane was there.

  “Now, my dear,” The Baron said as he pulled the cover back and settled himself close to her. He was fully naked, but even in this dark light, she didn’t know where to look. “Let’s get on with it and you can get me a son.”

  Remembering what Mama had told her, she pulled the hem of her shift up above her waist and slipped her legs further apart. How far apart was enough? She had no idea. The Baron would let her know though, wouldn’t he? He grunted with the effort as he climbed over her. “Help me out, will ye?” He snapped.

  How? Jane had no idea.

  He took her hand and slapped it on his flaccid cock. Jane yelped in shock.

  “It won’t kill you, but we can’t get anywhere until it’s nice and stiff.”

  Did he need to be so crude?

  Still holding him, she whispered, “What do I do?”

  “Dammit, another clueless virgin!” He guided her hand up and down, “Rub it like this, that’s a good girl.”

  Doing as she was told, Jane rubbed him, all the time wondering how on earth they were going to manage this. She was his wife now, she was his to do with as he pleased, which meant she had to please him. If not, she’d end up following in the footsteps of his third wife.

  The texture of his cock changed in her grip, becoming firmer.

  “Good girl,” he said, “That’s the spirit, Yes.”

  He moved further onto her and she had to shift the angle of her hand to keep going.

  “I’ll take it from here,” he commanded. “Move your leg out more.”

  She did so, hoping this would not take long.

  He pressed his full weight down on her and shifted over her body. His hand knocked against her sex as he tugged at himself. Was he still wearing his rings? Her seat would be bashed blue if he kept going. Mama had said it would hurt, perhaps this was what she meant?

  With a noisy grunt, he pushed himself again, knocking the wind out of her lungs. He grunted again, then suddenly stopped.

  His hand was still wrapped around himself, his body slumped.

  Jane’s breath returned at last. “My Lord, have … have I done my duty?”

  He did not reply.

  “My Lord?”

  Still no reply. On seeing his eyes were shut, Jane assumed he’d fallen asleep. This is what her mother had told her would happen. It wasn’t exactly as she’d described, but perhaps each man was different?

  Keeping quiet, she eased herself out from under him. His hand was still gripped around himself and his eyes were shut tight. His face looked crumpled and cross, as if he’d rather be doing anything else.

  “You and me both,” she thought as she slipped out of the bed.

  The bashing he’d done against her seat made walking a little sore, but she breathed a sigh of relief. She had done her wifely duty and could now rest easily in the Baroness’s rooms.

  As she tiptoed towards her own bed, Mama was in the room, sitting by the fire. “How did you fare, my dear?”

  “I did my duty,” she said, with a grimace, “You were right, it did hurt a little, but it was soon over.”

  “My darling girl,” Mama held her closely. “You are a woman now. God willing you will be with child. You must go to him whenever he needs, as that is your priority now as Baroness Ealing.

  “Yes Mama.” Jane said.

  Mama bade her farewell and Jane climbed into her own bed, wondering what all the fuss was about. She’d heard rumours about the act, obviously, but could not understand how people enjoyed it so much when it seemed to be such a strange, unpleasant thing.

  No point wondering any more. This was her life now. It wasn’t so bad. And if things went well, she would soon be with child. Please God let it be a boy, and then she wouldn’t need to have too many of them.

  2

  The next morning, Abigail woke Jane with a cup of tea and some toast. Jane ate and sipped and felt herself fully rested after a truly comfortable night’s sleep. Yes, her husband might be a doddery old man, but he had not shown her any cruelty last night. Their marriage would provide her with comfort beyond compare. She must thank him for his consideration.

  Abigail dressed Jane and fixed her hair, then Jane made her way to her husband’s rooms. Hard rain splattered against the windows. The staff were busy replacing the candles to maintain the light. What a miserable summer they were having! If the sun had been out, she was going to suggest she and her husband have a picnic, but that was out of the question now. Perhaps things would improve tomorrow?

  As she neared the door to The Baron’s rooms, she spotted the footman approaching with his master’s breakfast tea and toast. He held the tray in one hand and opened the door for her, with a curt, “Good morning, Lady Ealing.”

  “Mister Footman,” she replied. She didn’t have to, but if she didn’t get the staff on her side, she’d be in for a lonely old time of it, especially as Mama would be going home in two more days.

  She waited for the footman to put the tray down, then open the blinds. Grey watery light shifted some of the gloom, even though this was on the south side of the estate, and should be redolent with all-day sun.

  How odd, her husband lay in exactly the same position as she’d left him the night previous.

  The footman turned towards his master and gasped.

  “What is it?” Jane asked.

  “He’s…” Mister Footman stepped over to the Baron and placed his ear close to the man’s mouth. “He’s not breathing at all.”

  Fear spiked Jane’s blood. “He’s what?”

  Mister Footman swallowed and blinked hard. “Dear heavens, I believe he has expired.”

  “This is not a clever jest!” Jane scolded. “Do not treat me so-” But as she looked at her husband, his expression was truly the same as the evening’s before. Except his skin looked ever so pale, and his lips had a tinge of blue to them. “Wake up, My Lord!” She poked his shoulder. He did not move at all.

  Oh dear.

  She lifted the covers to check on the rest of his body, to see if his chest rose and fell. That’s when she noticed his hand was still clutched around his member. “Oh dear God!”

  She stepped back, hand over her mouth in shock.

  “What is it, My Lady?” Mister Footman raised the covers to see for himself, then quickly dropped them.

  Jane reached for a chair to steady herself before she fell to the floor. “This is a tragedy.”

  Mister Footman said, “We’d best hope you are with child, My Lady, as that is all that stands between us and the streets.”

  No. This shock of her husband expiring
was enormous enough. It was not fair to deliver another so soon on the heels of the first. “Allow me to digest this ghastly piece of news before serving up the next course, please Mister Footman.”

  “Please, forgive me,” The footman said, “It is indeed ghastly, but it is also the truth. Once the Jardines learn of this, they will move themselves in and throw us out .”

  “They do not need to know, not yet.” Jane said, her mind and body reeling with the shock. How quickly fortunes change! Only a few minutes ago, she arose from a wonderful night’s sleep and was on her way to thank her husband. Now she was a widow, responsible for the welfare of her late husband’s staff. The full complement of which she had not yet even had a chance to meet.

  “I am sorry to say, they will find out soon enough,” The footman said. “I did not mean to add to your misery. But the Jardines will be in attendance this afternoon, and they plan to stay for the next three days.”

  How very rude of them, Jane thought, to encroach on newlyweds during this most private time.

  “How incongruous of them. Even Mama is planning on leaving tomorrow. Oh dear, what shall we tell Mama?”

  Jane and Mister Footman looked at pleadingly at each other. He had such an honest face and although she did not know him that well, he seemed trustworthy.

  “Please do not burden your mother with this news. Only the two of us know. We shall tell the Jardines that the the Baron is fatigued after the wedding and we shall forbid them from entering this room.”

  “Will they accept that?”

  “I do not know. But …” Splotches of red appeared on his neck and cheeks. “Would you happen to know if you are already with child?”

  The question floored Jane. She’d done all that was asked of her, so there was a chance. She felt sore in her upper thighs from the Baron thumping against her. Was that a sign? “When am I likely to find out?”