The Bellerose Bargain

by Robyn Carr

  "Rodney, you fool, make her a chair; use the other men!" Geoffrey shouted.

  The ensuing scene brought more mirth, but only from those not participating, namely, Alicia and Geoffrey. The horsemen could not laugh, for they were required to clasp hands between them while Rodney directed Margaret as she left the coach backside first and dropped her large, round bottom on their arms, an action that nearly toppled all four into the muck.

  By the time the six of them were safely landed, Alicia was holding her sides and Geoffrey was coughing loudly into his handkerchief. He wished, for a moment, that he’d been raised in the simple life so that he, like Alicia, could laugh openly without the worry of displaying poor breeding.

  After a fair amount of pounding and attempting to jar the heavy oaken doors of the manor, it was clear that the place was barred from within, but no one would answer.

  "There was to be a caretaker here," Geoffrey grumbled.

  "I wager he absconded, milord," Rodney offered. "Dropped the bar in place and went out another door or window."

  The women stayed near the front door while the men, properly booted and brave, looked about the rest of the outside of the building. It was quite a long time before the sounds of the board slipping and the hinges squeaking could be heard. Geoffrey stood in the opened door with a sour look on his face, practically glaring at Alicia. "My lady," he crooned sarcastically, "Bellerose."

  Alicia gingerly stepped inside. There was dirt nearly as thick inside as out, broken and useless furniture, evidence that animals had roamed through, rags that might have covered windows at one time hanging from the walls, and a smell that would insult the laziest nose. "A rose indeed," Alicia hummed.

  She stood with Geoffrey just inside the door while the others wandered through, the men looking upstairs, and Margaret, muttering her disgust, examining the downstairs rooms. Lord and Lady Seavers stood quiet and contemplating for a while, listening to the echoes of footfalls upstairs and Margaret’s moving around downstairs. "How did you get in?" Alicia asked.

  "The door to the gardens was not bolted. The caretaker, the good man who was to clean and protect the place, scooted with the money I gave him."

  "Was it much?"

  "Five pounds, ten more of which he’d get on my arrival when the place was presentable."

  Alicia began to laugh.

  "Five pounds amuses you, madam?"

  She shook her head, but could not stop her laughter. "I imagine it was the easiest five he’s ever earned, and he was quick to see that there was no way to earn the ten you promised."

  He put both hands on his hips and stared at her. "And you find that a good jest, eh?"

  Giggles overtook her and she blinked away tears as she tried to explain. "This fortune, my lord. You’ve paid so much, so many times over, to have it. A hundred to a wench, more for her gowns and so billed to you by the king, a caretaker that steals, and God knows how many more debts before you can count your gold."

  He screwed his face into a pout and looked around. "I admit it’s funny as hell."

  Alicia laughed the harder at that. "Not only did you have to marry," she stammered. "You had to capture, educate, dress, and fight your bride."

  He looked at her in complete confusion, but she was not intimidated by his stare. While he stared, she controlled her laughter. "Fight?" he asked.

  "Aye, my fine lord," she said with a nod.

  "How do I fight my bride?"

  "You’re afraid to be my friend. And more afraid to be my lover."

  "Be damned," he argued. "I do as I please."

  "Liar," she said, arms crossed and small foot tapping.

  "You are an ungrateful wench," he scolded, but it was hard to look at her without a smile. She was so full of herself this afternoon. "Never have you thanked me for all you’ve gained through this alliance. And admit, my fair lass, I’ve thanked you aplenty and you’ve been angry with me for that."

  "I don’t feel appreciated." She shrugged.

  He threw his arms wide and looked at her in dismay. "Tell me, maid, what you want?"

  She chuckled again, covering her mouth. Her eyes were alive with mischief as she looked at him. "It is great fun watching the pain on your face as you unleash every farthing for what you want. Yet I can’t say why you continually thank me. You’re unhappy most of the time."

  "I have a great deal on my mind," he said in defense. "I will be happy when this is done."

  "I’m not sure, my lord. When it’s done it may simply be—" she shrugged and went on, "— done."

  "What do you prattle about, wench?" he demanded.

  She looked at him with a wisdom that made him uneasy. "Did it ever occur to you that what would make you happiest is something you cannot buy?"

  His expression closed, for it was a thing he had not considered. At least not for now. Right now all that he wanted had a price.

  She laughed and danced away from him, going in the direction of her woman. A sharp thwack on her backside put a jump in her step. She turned with a frown.

  Geoffrey raised one eyebrow and leered, his eyes roaming from the top of her head to her toes. "One day you may regret taunting me so."

  "Be cautious, my lord," she warned, shaking a finger at him. "Don’t run up any more debts."

  The house was a big disappointment to Geoffrey. And its run-down condition caused him to walk about and mumble to himself for the better part of an hour, until he sent Rodney to fetch a flask of whiskey from the baggage. No one was quite sure what was going on inside the captain’s head while he drank and contemplated, but the rest of the group let him be and set about making the best of a bad situation.

  Rodney found a decent supply of dry wood in a building that was a poor excuse for a barn, and Margaret was able to fashion a light meal out of food that had been brought along for the trip. Alicia decided the only decent room on the lower floor was probably a sitting room, and it was not long before a fire was blazing to warm it.

  Alicia tucked up the hem of her fine velvet gown, pinning it up and letting her petticoats hang below to catch the dirt. She found a broom and began to clear some of the filth off the floor. She caught sight of Geoffrey as he passed the room, his drink in his hand. He was deep in thought.

  In a bedchamber, Rodney found a mattress that did not seem to be inhabited by creatures, and he dragged it down the stairs and set it in front of the fire. While the horsemen took care of their animals, Rodney, Margaret, and Alicia sat before the fire to partake of bread, fruit, and cheese. Geoffrey entered with his drink and looked at them from the doorway.

  "Some garden party," he commented dryly.

  "Are you hungry?" Alicia asked, holding a slice of bread and cheese toward him.

  "The sight of this place has taken all thoughts of eating from my mind."

  "Will we be finding an inn for the night?" she asked.

  "We’ll stay here the night and leave early in the morning."

  Margaret gulped hard and began to cough, but neither Alicia nor Rodney was surprised. They did not really expect Geoffrey to part with more money for lodging when there was a roof and fire here, however mean the accommodations.

  "Where will we sleep?" Alicia asked. It seemed she was the only one who would question him.

  "The women, here. The men, wherever each one finds his comfort."

  Rodney rose with a snort, his mouth full of bread and cheese, and pulled his coat tighter about him. "I’ll find my comfort in the barn. There is at least a pile of hay there." He chewed and smiled down at Alicia. "I’ve made the best of a pile of hay before."

  "Can some be spared from that pile?" Alicia asked. "Mrs. Stratton deserves better than the floor, and this feather tick won’t do for us both."

  "Aye, lass," he said appreciatively. "I’ll fix something up for her." And with a nod toward the serving woman, he quit the room.

  Alicia looked at Margaret with a smile. "I think he’s grown quite fond of you," she teased.

  "Bah!" she coughed, her che
eks brightening somewhat. Alicia could only giggle, a thing that made the woman flush the more, and shortly she rose to leave the room to conceal her embarrassment.

  Alicia remained on the tick, nibbling at her bread and cheese, while Geoffrey looked in from the doorway. With a sigh, he moved toward her and picked a crust from the basket that had been carried in.

  "If I didn’t think it quite insane," he said with a mouthful of dry, hard bread, "I would think you find this enjoyable."

  "It doesn’t distress me, Geoffrey. Why should it?"

  "It is a filthy sty. It is not an inheritance but a joke. A very bad joke."

  "But since it is not mine, why should I be troubled? And though you have to worry with what to do with this, you’ve been given a good deal of money to start your shipping, so what does it matter?"

  "I shall have to have the place refurbished before it can be sold."

  She shrugged. "You’ll make it up in the price you get."

  "It is not a serious thing to you, is it?"

  "I think I am lucky I was poor," she confided. "You rich nobles have more problems than I could bear."

  He relaxed back on his haunches and looked at her, shaking his head. "Alicia," he murmured, "I think perhaps you are right."

  Her eyes warmed and her smile was soft and sweet. "I like it when you use my name," she whispered.

  He turned away uncomfortably and looked into the fire. "I forgot myself," he grumbled.

  "Yes," she said, her smile still directed at him. "I know."

  It would have been convenient for all six travelers to stay in one room for the night, the room that had been partially cleaned and warmed. But Rodney and the horsemen chose the stable, for the hay was soft and the coach and horses could be watched. Margaret fashioned a comfortable mattress of hay on the floor in a far comer of the sitting room and lay down exhausted the moment the sun was low in the sky. It was not long before her snores could be heard throughout the room.

  Geoffrey had gallantly offered to stay inside the house for the night to see to any needs the women had, and though he was tired, he sat on the feather tick beside Alicia and looked into the fire.

  "I’m sorry you’re disappointed, Geoffrey," she told him. "You’ve gone through a great deal for very little."

  "I complain too much," he conceded. "What has come of this marriage gives me a decent start. But it’s a hard pill to swallow," he said with a laugh.

  "How so?"

  "I find myself almost wishing that Perry had managed to take it away from me."

  "That again. Well, what do you suppose he’d have done with it?"

  "Hard telling, but I assure you he wouldn’t be grateful for it. And in some devious way he’d have turned it into money and got himself a large estate to sit and rot on." He shrugged. "Perry hasn’t had enough power to suit him for a very long time."

  "I don’t seem to understand why he is poor. His father was an earl, was he not?"

  "Aye, and his brother holds that earldom still, but Perry has wasted and lost what little was given to him. His family has left him to find his own means—and clearly he intends to come by it as easily as possible, through marriage."

  Alicia turned her head sharply to look at him. "And aren’t you proud that you didn’t choose such an easy escape!"

  "I give you that, lass. I couldn’t see a better way for myself either." He pointed a finger at her. "But I began my shipping and fought hard for the king." He paused. "I needed more."

  "Aren’t you afraid, Geoffrey?" she asked him, her face wrinkled into a frown. He almost answered her, thinking she was talking about the danger in war and privateering. "Aren’t you afraid there will never be enough?"

  He studied her for a moment before answering. "There are so many times I can’t bear to be near you," he said softly. "I envy so much about you."

  "Envy me?" she laughed. "You are not only ruthless but foolish!"

  But Geoffrey was serious, and for the first time since they’d met, he was actually finding himself wanting to share some of himself with her. He was comfortable talking; the brandy had soothed, the fire was warm, and but for the regular snorts from the sleeping servant, the room was quiet.

  "It does not take much to make you happy. Indeed, the simplest things amuse you."

  "That’s not completely true, my lord," she said with a hint of guilt. "I left the inn with your man because I could not be happy in the country with a simple farmer."

  He reached out and touched her cheek. "And was there a farmer, Alicia?"

  "No," she said with a sigh. "No, there was no one. And I had no dowry, no family, no schooling but for some simple reading and ciphering when I was very small." She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. "I would have nothing if it had not been for Rodney... and you. You’re right, I should thank you more often and ask you for less."

  "I can’t believe the country lads did not chase you from brook to woods."

  "Believe!" she laughed. "There were no combs for my hair, my clothes did not fit, and most of the time I did not have shoes to put on my feet. Aye, there was not much to chase.

  "Yeomen are like nobles, my lord. They, too, look for a wife with money or land or at least one cow to bring to the marriage."

  "Most country girls and especially tavern maids can find ways to better their lot."

  "I know you think I’m a whore," she said quite easily. "But the truth is that I was not. Armand held quite a stick over the head of every maid who served for him. A pregnant lass was not as quick on her feet."

  "He beat you?"

  "Regularly."

  "But he did not sell you to his customers."

  "No, he did not do that, but then most of us sold ourselves, but not for gold." She laughed ruefully. "I don’t think I know of a lass who did not fall in love with at least one courtier passing through. They lied so well; promised a life of ease in London with such perfection." She sighed and played with the hem of her gown. "What poor shoeless wench wouldn’t want to believe?"

  Geoffrey was quiet for a moment. "And is that what happened to you?"

  "Yes. And it shan’t happen to me again. Your hundred pounds put me above that trickery."

  "I think I see the bruise of your last beating," Geoffrey said with affection. "Your broken heart."

  "But it is mended," she said defensively. "I name myself as much the fool as my vanishing courtier, the blackguard. I had seen the same happen to maids before me, yet held myself as something special."

  The fire gave off sparks as a log fell, and Geoffrey moved to the hearth to throw on another log. Alicia shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around herself, tucking it in around her knees. As he moved back to the feather tick, Alicia appeared to be a small bundle of misfortune needing his care, and he put an arm about her, pulling her close.

  "Perhaps things will go better for you from now on," he said.

  "And for you," she said.

  "True," he returned. "We have helped each other. Let us take great care not to hurt each other."

  "And how could I hurt you, my lord? You have had my word that I won’t confess the truth of our arrangement. I can’t leave you and I can’t stay with you. There is nothing I can do to hurt you."

  "I don’t believe that you have accepted the conditions of this marriage, Alicia," he whispered, his lips against her ear.

  "What matter in that," she said, somewhat breathless from his nearness.

  His arm went around her waist and his lips touched her neck. "You must remember everything we share is for now.

  "You must take what you can from me and let go when the time has come. Or you will be hurt."

  She pulled away from him a very little bit so that her lips were close to his and her voice was soft, her breath in his half-open mouth. "And you, Geoffrey. You must let go when the time has come. Do you think you can?"

  His mouth came down on hers and they tumbled onto the feather tick, caught in a passion that surprised neither and delighted both. Alicia circled his
neck with her arms and held him fast, for this was no test or game; she would not release him. She meant to know how far he would take this bargain.

  Geoffrey felt her response and a wanting grew in him. He cautioned himself to move slowly, to conceal his desperation if he could, to love her gently. But he was a man starved, and control was difficult, for he had suppressed his hunger for her so completely that he had not taken any woman since Alicia came to London. He had not acknowledged how passionately he wanted her. His fingers moved along the buttons on the bodice of her gown, and a groan escaped him as he touched the soft skin of her breast.

  "Please, do not expect to find me a virgin," she reminded him.

  His hands worked a magic on her and he ignored her quiet plea. The only sound from him was the soft murmuring of her name. "Alicia. Alicia ..."

  "I am not your bride," she whispered. "This is not a part of the bargain."

  "Don’t deny me, Alicia. Don’t deny yourself. Love me."

  Her body needed only what he offered, but her heart needed something more, and though she made no effort to stop him, she let her lips break from his to voice her questions. And while she felt the hem of her gown sliding up to expose first her knee and then her thigh, she whispered to him.

  "Am I to take? Or am I to give?"

  "Love me, Alicia. I’ve wanted you for so long."

  "I do love you, Geoffrey. But do you know who I am?"

  He rose above her slightly, looking down into smoky gray eyes, her hair loosed and tousled on the feather tick. He felt as though his breeches were a vise, needing to be loosened, but she stayed him with her words.

  "Alicia, you are noble, strong, sweet…"

  "A tavern wench—already used and cast aside."

  "That was another time, another Alicia. It matters little. You’re the woman I’ve come to love."