Excerpt of An Unwilling Baroness by Harris Channing

Chloe slowly entered the dining hall. Dinner at Pembridge House was never just a meal. It was a time to belittle. A time for Dorothea to pick and pester until she garnered much needed information. A time for her stepmother to glower at her over split pea soup. It was never pleasant and never conducive to the digestion. Yet manners and yes, protocol had her sitting across from her nemesis every evening. Oh the days when Dorothea could go to London to the townhouse…the townhouse that had recently been sold.

"Chloe, so good of you to join us," Father said, standing, a small, brown stain marring his pale cravat. Aghast, she stared at him. He had once seemed like an Adonis to her, so gloriously handsome when he smiled. Now, he was a fat fellow, with a bald head and sagging jowls who meal after meal destroyed at least one article of clothing. God, it was no wonder they hurt financially! He soiled three cravats a day.

"So nice of you to wait until I arrived," she retorted, scanning the room for Jude, both saddened and relieved that he wasn't there.

"Sit down before your food gets any colder," Dorothea cooed. Her features were soft and her eyes softer. What was going on? The woman looked like a snake that had recently devoured a fat field mouse.

"Yes Ma’am," she replied. She reached for the chair only to have her father bumble toward her, pulling it out.

"There daughter."

With a wariness that threatened panic, she lowered herself into the chair and watched them. Dorothea, sipping from her soup spoon, Father seating himself and gulping down a mouthful of wine.

She followed suit, hoping the alcohol would calm her nerves. It didn't. It would take more than a glass. Dear God, it would take a barrel to end her misery.

"The baron says you're going to attend the picnic tomorrow," Dorothea remarked, her gaze and tone far too gentle. Chloe imagined she was the field mouse, tight in the serpent's jaw with no hope of escape.

"I wish I could attend," Father interjected, slamming his glass down and lifting up his spoon. Joy of joys, she was going to get to watch him try to eat soup without soiling the tablecloth, his clothes, the floor. She'd rather watch him slurp from the rim of the bowl.

"But I’m off to town to see to some business. There's a buyer interested in that bay stallion."

"You mean Sebastian?" Her heart sank. Sebastian was the most beautiful horse in their stable. He was their breeding stallion. The animal fetched the most when at stud. He was also the sweetest. The horse she rode when hunting. He had been her mother's horse and now hers.

"Aye. The very one."

She shoved away from the table, looking from him to her stepmother. The woman positively beamed with satisfaction. Damn her. Damn him. Damn them all. "You can't mean to sell him. You know how much he means to me. How much he meant to Mother."

Having fully expected him to meet her gaze and come up with some ridiculous excuse, she was shocked when he kept his attention focused on his soup and admitted the truth. "I know. But I've a loan coming due and the old fellow will just about pay for it."

Standing, she held tight to the skirt of her russet gown. "Sell something else! But don't let him go. Father please, I implore you." Hysteria bit at her heart, perspiration immediately springing from her brow as the small gulp of wine pounded on her throat for release. "My lord, please."

Lord Pembridge finally looked upon her, the despair in his eyes great. The sorrow washed heavily across his countenance. "I have no choice, dear daughter. If I did, he'd be the last animal in the stable. But, he has to go or the creditors will start taking our furnishings."

She set her hand to her breast, trying to quell the pain that shrouded her heart. The baron had spoken the truth. Things were far worse than she knew. Far, far worse.

"I see."

His lower lip trembled as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. She could feel the shame sliding out of his pores. "I know you do, and I never wanted you to."

"And now, do you see why it's imperative you seriously consider your options?" Dorothea said, her brow raised, her chin high in an attempt to appear the proud matriarch. It was truly a sad display. The pitiful woman relied on a stepdaughter who loathed her almost as much as she loved Pembridge House.

"So, It's up to me to save us all?"

Father looked away, his silence all the answer she needed.

Her gaze fell upon the pathetic pair, sitting there, trying to be the Lord and Lady of the Manor. How had her proud father allowed this to happen to them…to her? But it wasn't difficult to imagine. She had known for years.

Lady Dorothea loved her father's money. She loved being welcomed by the ton. But most of all, she loved the associations that being a member of the Pembridge family offered to her. She took the greatest joy in telling all who listened that she owned the country house. That she'd owned the London townhouse. That she was every bit the lady that the former Lady Pembridge had been. Sadly for her, it was a truly impossible desire. For her mother garnered respect and attention without ever having to actually demand anything.

Her mother was by far, the softest, sweetest woman to have ever graced the planet. She missed her everyday, but today she ached for her. Needed to be coddled and told everything would be all right. Looking at Dorothea and her father, she knew none of that was forthcoming.

Biting back her worry, she stumbled away from the table. There was no room in her stomach for food, as nerves balled up tight inside her. She longed for fresh air, and needed to put distance between herself and the pathetic fools. A pair who ignored and mistreated her and now demanded the only thing she had left. Her freedom.

"Don't go," Father said finally, but it was a weak request, one with no substance or conviction. His pleading stare and quivering jowls offered no warmth or compassion, only questions. Only need. Only fear as to what she'd say or do. What a delicate web they wove.

"I'm going to the garden." She longed to tell them she wanted to run away from their foolishness. To scream at the top of her lungs that she hated the position they put her in. Wanted to scold herself for allowing them to lock her into marriage with a stranger. And that was what was going to happen. She was going to marry Fredrick. What choice did she have?