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?