The Marriage Bargain
Heidi Kimball
Contents
Other titles by Heidi Kimball
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Regency House Party: Havencrest
About the Author
Other titles by Heidi Kimball
A Guarded Heart
An Unlikely Courtship
Maiden in the Tower
A Christmas Courting
Coming March 2020:
Where the Stars Meet the Sea
Other titles in the Regency House Party: Havencrest Series
Miss Marleigh’s Pirate Lord
The Vexatious Widow
Charmed by His Lordship
The Captain’s Lady
The Marriage Bargain © 2019 by Heidi Kimball. All Rights Reserved.
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 permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover design: Victorine Lieske
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Heidi Kimball
https://www.authorheidikimball.com
First Printing: August 2019
Created with Vellum
Chapter 1
The carriage door shut with a dull-sounding thud, and instinctively, Emmeline braced herself for the verbal assault she knew was coming. Anna had burned a hole in Mama’s favorite gown and Mama had been in a foul mood ever since. Fouler than usual. And now Emmeline was trapped inside a carriage with her. Alone. The ride to the Ramsbury’s residence would be brief, yet still far too long.
“I hope you are satisfied, Emmeline. If your aim was to displease me, you have accomplished it perfectly. You have proven yourself utterly and completely worthless.” Mama’s sharp tone filled the carriage.
Emmeline sucked in a breath, trying not to show how the words pierced her.
“Three seasons I’ve given you. Was it too much to ask that you form a profitable match? Help our family step into the circles of high society? The size of your dowry should have ensured that, even if you aren’t much to look at.” The limited light only showed the harsh angles of Mama’s face, though Emmeline could imagine the hard set of her mouth.
When Emmeline failed to respond, Mama continued her tirade. “Months of effort, the fortune that went into your wardrobe. And yet somehow you are continually passed over even by men three times your age.” That wasn’t precisely true, though there was no need for Mama to know that. “And it’s no wonder, with how cold you are. You are a spiteful creature and have brought me nothing but disappointment and misery.”
“I’m sorry, Mama.” The apology rose to her tongue out of habit.
“If you were truly sorry we wouldn’t find ourselves attending the final ball of the season shamed by your failure to secure an attachment.”
Tears threatened at the thought of the long night—no, the long months—ahead. Weeks without end where Emmeline’s failures would be touted on a daily basis.
“I warned you on our journey to London. You are finished. I’ll not waste another moment on an ungrateful daughter who uses me so despicably. There will not be another season.”
At that, Emmeline’s stomach clenched. She’d half hoped it was another of Mama’s empty threats. She still held out hope for a love match. It was how she’d endured the endless parade of men that were, in fact, three times her age. Surely Papa wouldn’t…her mouth opened to protest.
Mama shook her head, almost as if she could read Emmeline’s thoughts. “Your father agrees with me.”
Of course. Though he wasn’t unkind to Emmeline, Papa was almost always occupied with business and he never went against Mama’s wishes. The poison of despair spread through Emmeline’s veins. Now it wouldn’t be months, but years with no one but Mama and her caustic friends for companionship. For a moment Emmeline couldn’t breathe. It felt as though a band had been wrapped around her chest, tightening with every breath she took.
“Do not give way to tears.” Mama leaned forward but not a single curl of her regal black coiffure moved from its place. “You may be a disappointment, but don’t make yourself pitiable as well.”
The carriage wheels rolled to a stop and Emmeline blinked twice, quickly. She’d learned long ago that tears only made things worse for her. She attempted to conceal her emotions under a mask of indifference, but she was no actress. Her bottom lip trembled.
Emmeline swallowed, though her throat was so tight the effort proved unsatisfying.
A moment later the carriage door swung open and a footman assisted both ladies down. They were ushered up the stairs and into the enormous and congested ballroom, which already promised to be the greatest crush of the Season.
Mama caught sight of the voluptuous Mrs. Higgins. With a firm grip on Emmeline’s elbow that left no doubt as to her displeasure, Mama propelled them both through the crowd. Emmeline’s already-frayed nerves grew taut with the press of warm bodies around her, the smell of sweat and too much perfume. She shook her head, trying to keep her composure. She wouldn’t last much longer.
“Mrs. Drake! Miss Drake! Can you believe the end of the Season is upon us?” Mrs. Higgins called before they’d even reached her. Mama released her grip on Emmeline’s elbow and hurried forward. The crowd pressed between them, and Emmeline lost sight of her captor.
She was so grateful for the reprieve, she almost sighed aloud—a few minutes to collect herself, to reassemble the armor that would shield her from the worst of Mama’s barbs. Somehow tonight she’d let down her guard, allowed Mama’s words to sink their claws into her and draw blood. She peered through the wall of intermingling guests, searching for a path to the verandah. She worked her way across the room and pushed open the balcony door.
For the first time that night, Emmeline could breathe. She sank against one of the large pillars. She was tired, she realized. Tired of holding that armor in place.
A rainstorm earlier in the day had swept away the heat, and cool evening air rushed through her lungs, calming her. The slight tremble of her hands abated as relief flowed into her limbs. A moment of peace.
Until she realized she wasn’t alone. A man paced along the terrace with a purposeful stride, headed in her direction. Emmeline stepped back, hoping the evening shadows of purple and gray would hide her. Yet before he drew any closer, the man turned, his face catching the light. Viscount Anslowe. He paused for a moment and stared out at the gardens, though Emmeline had the distinct impression his attention was on something entirely different than the view in front of him. A moment later he resumed his path in the opposite direction.
She watched him from the darkness. Though they’d never been introduced, they had attended the same events enough times for Emmeline to have taken note of the man’s attractive features. The way he could charm a group of ladies with his singular smile and easy banter. But more than that, there seemed to be a kindness about him, a gentleness of manner in the way he treated people.
If only Mama’s scheming had included someone like Lord Anslowe instead of so many unattractiv
e men who were old enough to be her grandfather, and usually quite handsy. Maybe then she wouldn’t have so fervently avoided their offers of marriage.
Without warning, he turned on his heel and returned to the ballroom.
A blend of voices drew Emmeline’s attention to the door through which the viscount had disappeared. It seemed her peace was to be short-lived. Several matrons, fans in hand, gathered in a tight circle. She was about to move from her hiding place when the conversation became discernible.
“Will he really declare himself this evening?”
“Everyone knows it for a fact.” The woman who answered spoke with conviction, as if daring anyone to question her.
“But who? Who does he plan to offer for?” asked another.
The topic of their conversation roused Emmeline’s curiosity before she remembered she shouldn’t be eavesdropping.
“I don’t think he particularly cares. Rumor has it Lord Anslowe has a list of prospects. Goodness knows there are plenty of women with a dowry to suit his needs.”
“What are his needs?” A timid voice asked the very question Emmeline wished to know.
“Someone with enough money to save his estate, of course. His father’s gambling debts left him barely solvent. All he wants is to be free to pursue his passion for politics.”
Strange how a few gossipers could lay out a man’s life in the course of a short conversation. Did Lord Anslowe feel trapped? She couldn’t imagine it.
A scoff. “But why would he wait until the end of the Season when all of the prime fruit has already been picked?”
“He was too busy with his beloved Parliament to be bothered. And he knows he can snap his fingers and have any number of women who fit the bill.”
“I suppose so.”
Emmeline really should be getting back to Mama, though she dreaded it. She fiddled with her glove a moment.
“But who do you suppose?”
“Miss Jennings, with her twelve thousand. Mark my words.”
“Why would he agree to put up with her constant wailing when he could have the pretty Miss Hastings for only a few thousand less?”
Did Lord Anslowe truly not care who he married? All at once, her heart began to pound erratically, as an idea took shape in her mind. Though such an arrangement would fall far short of a love match, at least she would be making her own choice.
She worried her lip and took a moment to think. What might she say to entice him?
No, it was too bold. Too daring. But she was desperate. Ready to try anything if it meant escaping Mama’s plans for her. The worst he might say was no, leaving her in the precise position she found herself now—unattached and stuck with a mother unwilling to let her forget it. Stowed away into a bleak and miserable future of spinsterhood.
A strange weightless sensation overtook Emmeline at the thought of what she was considering. She slipped around the pillar and moved to the far door, reentering the ballroom.
She surveyed the crowd, looking for someone of Lord Anslowe’s height. His chestnut brown hair that always looked a bit rumpled, as if he couldn’t be bothered to do it properly. There. He hadn’t made it very far into the ballroom. He stood in a small circle with Miss Hastings at his side.
She took the opportunity to study Miss Hastings. She was a far sight prettier than Emmeline, with her golden hair and sparkling blue eyes. But her teeth were crooked while Emmeline’s were straight. She shook her head. What a silly thing to consider.
When she looked next Lord Anslowe was leading Miss Hastings and her ten thousand pounds away. To dance? To the verandah? Where he was planning to propose? It was now or never.
They were coming Emmeline’s way. She stood only a few feet away from the door that led out to the balcony. Her stomach knotted up and her lungs seemed to have forgotten how to draw in air. Closer.
Lord Anslowe leaned toward Miss Hastings. “You have many enticing qualities, Miss Hastings.”
Before she could stop herself, Emmeline reached out and laid a hand on Lord Anslowe’s sleeve. He turned and suddenly the full weight of his gaze was upon her. “Pardon me, Lord Anslowe, but I must speak to you.” Somehow, she forced strength and purpose into her voice. “It is a matter of some urgency.”
His mouth twisted with a hint of curiosity. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Emmeline noted the perturbed expression that had crossed Miss Hastings face, but with Lord Anslowe’s deep brown eyes upon her, she barely gave it thought.
Would he agree to speak with her? A woman he’d never been introduced to? She couldn’t begin to guess what he might be thinking. He turned back to Miss Hastings. “You’ll excuse me a moment, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Miss Hastings gave Emmeline a pinched look before releasing his arm.
Emmeline exhaled. Lord Anslowe fixed his attention upon her, as if waiting for her to do or say something. “Perhaps we could step outside?” she managed. Drat her breathy voice.
He nodded, still staring at her. She preferred enjoying his handsome features when his eyes weren’t boring into her. “Shall we?” he said at last, extending his arm.
This time the cool air on the balcony was anything but calming. In fact, all alone with Lord Anslowe, it seemed rather warm. Her mouth was suddenly dry. When was the last time she’d spoken to anyone outside of Mama’s hearing? With her pulse thrumming in her ears, Emmeline dove right in, afraid she would otherwise lose her nerve. “You’ll excuse me for being so bold, Lord Anslowe. I heard you were in the market for a wife.”
He cocked his head.
She went on, determined to get it all out before he could speak. “My source insisted you weren’t overly particular about who, so long as the woman possesses a large dowry.”
Lord Anslowe swallowed, seeming to overcome his surprise. “And who is your source, if I might inquire?”
Heat rose in her cheeks. How she wished for a fan. “Does it matter?”
A smile brushed the corners of his mouth. “I suppose not, though I’d be curious to know.”
Perhaps easing into her proposal wouldn’t hurt. “Very well. I overheard it from a circle of gossiping matrons.”
Now there was real mirth in his eyes. “I see. Then I may as well confirm what they said is true. I am looking for a wife. And the size of her dowry does matter. I must be practical, after all.”
“Yes, of course,” she agreed. “That is precisely why I wished to speak to you. I am practical-minded as well.”
He inclined his head. “An admirable quality.” Something in the tone of his voice made her think him sincere.
“Yes, well.” She was making a fool of herself and now her little speech had been completely overturned. “But to my point. I would like to propose an arrangement. A bargain, really. You need a wife with a dowry. I would like to offer myself as a willing candidate.”
“Indeed?” he said, almost under his breath.
“I have a dowry of fifteen thousand pounds to recommend me.”
The only indication of surprise came in the form of the smallest lift of his brow. Then he gave a nod, as if in approval. Emmeline’s breath grew stilted. It seemed as though her lungs were trying to inhale and exhale simultaneously.
He leaned back against the pillar, crossing one leg over the other in a casual stance. “I suppose I am fortunate you intercepted me before I offered for Miss Hastings. Is that who the matrons predicted I would propose to?”
“Yes. Better her than the wailing Miss Jennings.”
He flashed a grin. “Of course. But you have a dowry of 15,000 pounds. Why were you overlooked as a possibility?”
Emmeline tried not to flinch at his question. Better to be upfront about the matter. “My father’s money comes from trade, my lord.”
He did the last thing she expected. He laughed. “You should know there’s nothing I like better than upending the old gossips’ expectations, so that counts as a point in your favor. What, exactly, are you hoping to get out of this arrangement? You don’t seem the type
to fawn over titles, which is all I can really claim as an enticement.”
Emmeline rubbed her elbow, still sore from Mama’s bruising grip. “I am looking to escape my mother, Lord Anslowe.”
“A veritable she-dragon is she?”
She gave a little shrug, trying not to show how much depended on this conversation. How her entire future seemed to hang in the balance. “You might say that.”
His mouth pressed into a firm line. Indicating what, Emmeline couldn’t say. “So if I understand you correctly, if I ask you to be my wife you will agree?”
She hesitated. “Well, I think it might be wise for us to come to some sort of agreement about exactly what this arrangement would entail.”
“Besides marriage?”
“Within marriage.”
“It sounds like you have some specifics in mind. Please go on.”
She took a moment to collect her thoughts. There was no sense in rushing through this now that she had his attention. “I know politics are important to you,” she said finally.
One brow went up, and she could practically feel the waves of amusement rolling off him. But she went on doggedly. “You would stay here, in London. I have always wanted my own household. I could live in the country and oversee the matters of your estate.” It was perfect, really. “We would correspond, of course. To exchange any necessary information. And you could come for visits every other month, stay for a day or two while you see that everything meets your satisfaction.”
The whole thing sounded preposterous. Her breath hitched as she awaited his reply.
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