The Bargain

by Mary J. Putney

  David always listened to her with respect.

  She made herself think of Candover again, and the light that sometimes showed deep in his gray eyes. “Until September . . .”

  Yet she could not remember exactly what his face was like. Handsome, yes, but the features would not quite come clear in her mind.

  She could visualize David’s face perfectly. Of course, she’d been around him constantly for several weeks now, so that meant nothing. Nothing.

  She glanced at David again, glad his attention was absorbed with driving. He had a strong profile, but lines of humor were drawn around his mouth and those striking eyes. In spite of the weeks he had been hospitalized, his face had the weathered tan of a man who had lived outdoors for much of his life. A strong face, remarkably attractive, really.

  Damnation, she was doing it again. In Candover’s absence, Jocelyn’s thoughts were beginning to focus on David. She really needed to see the duke again, to remind herself how special he was.

  But it would be at least another month until he returned to London—and when he did, she would be in the beastly position of having to explain that she could not become involved with him then, but would be willing to do so later, when she was free. Would the fragile, budding relationship between them survive such awkwardness?

  Bleakly she wondered if she’d ever get her life untangled again.

  Perhaps it was mere coincidence that Jocelyn returned home to find a gift from the Duke of Candover. It was a slim, handwritten book that contained several poems by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

  The duke’s note said:

  I thought you might enjoy these. The poems have not yet been published, though I believe Coleridge’s friends are encouraging him to make them generally available. I was particularly struck by the imagery of “Kubla Khan.”

  Until September—

  Candover

  Her throat tightened as she leafed through the volume. It was an exquisitely chosen gift, sensitive to her interests, rare and special, yet completely suitable for a gentleman to give to a lady.

  Coincidence? No, the gift was a sign. She had needed to be reminded of where her heart lay. David might be her husband, but Candover was her future. The evidence now lay in her hands.

  Chapter 19

  It was a measure of the friendship that had grown between the two women that Sally decided to bring her problem to Jocelyn. It was late in the afternoon when she called, and her ladyship had just ordered tea in the morning room.

  Jocelyn looked up with a smile when Sally entered. “What wonderful timing. I do hope you will join me for tea. But I’m afraid David isn’t here. He’s gone to visit Richard Dalton, who has had another operation and will be completely immobilized for the next several weeks.”

  “I know. Ian Kinlock told me he had broken and reset Richard’s injured leg, and the prognosis is promising.” Sally looked down at her hands and found that she was twisting her gloves nervously. “Actually, I knew David would be out. It was you I wanted to talk to.”

  Tactfully ignoring her guest’s fidgeting, Jocelyn poured tea and offered cakes, keeping up a light patter of conversation. After a scintillating discussion of how gray the weather had been for several days, so dismal for August, Jocelyn finally said, “Is there something I can help you with? I should be delighted to try.”

  Sally swallowed hard, the delicious cake sawdust in her mouth. “I don’t really think you can help, but I don’t know who else to talk to.”

  Jocelyn made an encouraging sound. Unable to meet her gaze, Sally stared at a landscape painting. “How does a woman get a man to fall in love with her? I’m sure you’ve had a great deal of experience in that area, and some advice would be very welcome. Though it might be wasted on someone like me,” she added bitterly.

  Jocelyn set her delicate Sevres teacup down with a clink. “I . . . see. Not an easy question to answer.”

  At least she wasn’t laughing. Sally was grateful for that.

  “I doubt if there is any one method to inspire love.” Jocelyn frowned. “Actually, I’m not sure how many men have really fallen in love with me. They say all heiresses are beautiful, so I think my fortune has inspired most of the admiration I’ve received.”

  “Nonsense. No doubt you’ve attracted some fortune hunters, but most of your admirers are seriously smitten. Look at David, and Richard Dalton.”

  “Sally, are you feeling unwell?” Jocelyn exclaimed. “You can’t be sun-touched when the weather has been so gray. Perhaps some out-of-season oysters? I like David and Richard enormously, and I hope they feel the same way about me, but no one is in love with anyone.”

  Sally reconsidered. “Perhaps Richard isn’t, though he could be with any encouragement. But David is certainly very taken with you.”

  To her surprise, Jocelyn appeared genuinely distressed. “David and I are friends, Sally. There’s nothing the least bit romantic between us.”

  Did the lady protest too much? Not wanting to upset her sister-in-law any further, Sally shrugged. “No matter. If you don’t know how you do it, there’s no point in asking your advice. I’m sorry to have troubled you.”

  “You haven’t troubled me.” Jocelyn broke off the corner of a cream-filled pastry and offered it to Isis, who had been watching the platter with gimlet eyes. “I’d be honored if you would tell me what is on your mind. Even if I can’t help, sometimes talking to a friend brings insight.”

  “If you laugh at me, I shall never forgive you!”

  “Of course I won’t laugh,” Jocelyn promised. “I gather that you are interested in a man who is not responding as you would wish?”

  Sally twisted her fingers together anxiously. “I . . . I seem to have fallen quite hopelessly in love with Ian Kinlock. We live near each other and often have dinner together. Sometimes I’ll meet him at Bart’s, and several times I’ve helped out at his consulting rooms, receiving patients and organizing the business end of his practice, which he completely ignores.”

  “I hadn’t realized you’ve been seeing so much of him. Presumably he must enjoy your company,” Jocelyn said encouragingly.

  “He always appears happy to see me, and he seems to like our conversations, but that’s as far as it goes. I’m not sure he’s even noticed that I’m female. And if he has . . . well, that fact doesn’t interest him.”

  Jocelyn frowned, understanding the problem. Would Ian Kinlock ever look up from his work long enough to notice an available female? “A surgeon as dedicated as Kinlock might not make a very good husband.”

  Sally gave a crooked smile. “I’m well aware of his shortcomings. A wife would always come second with him. I can accept that. I admire his commitment and selflessness. That kind of passionate caring is unique in my experience.”

  Jocelyn thought of the doctor’s compact power and craggy, appealing face. “I hope it’s not only his character you admire. He’s really a most attractive man.”

  “Believe me, I’ve noticed,” Sally said with wry humor. “If I hadn’t, my admiration would be more detached. Instead, I . . . I think about him all the time. How can I persuade him to treat me as someone other than a younger brother? I can bear to come second, but I want to at least be on the list of what’s important to him!”

  Jocelyn studied her guest. As usual, Sally wore a loose, high-necked gown with not so much as a ribbon to reduce the severity. Today’s dress was navy, not her best color. Her thick hair was the same rich brown as David’s, but it was pulled back into a tight knot from which no curl dared stray. Though her features were regular and she had wonderful green eyes like her brother’s, no one would ever take her for anything but a governess. “If you don’t want to be treated like a little brother, don’t dress like one.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Sally said, offended.

  “I don’t mean that you look like a boy. I suspect that you might have quite a good figure if you ever wore a dress with any shape to it. But you seem determined to be as respectable and invisible as humanly po
ssible.”

  “I suppose you think I should cover myself with ribbons and lace?” Sally said tartly. “I would look quite ridiculous. Besides, all that frippery is so—so superficial. A relationship between a man and a woman should be based on respect and mutual affection, not shallow appearances.”

  “That’s very true and admirable,” Jocelyn agreed. “But while affection and respect are the essential foundations of a good relationship, the fact remains that much of life is lived on the surface. For every hour that one discusses ethics or philosophy, there are a good many more spent in dining and driving and the trivia of day-to-day life, and there’s no denying that a pleasant appearance adds to one’s enjoyment of a companion.” She had a brief, distracting thought of the hours she’d been spending with David. He was very nice to look at.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Sally said reluctantly. “But I would look utterly ridiculous rigged out in something like what you’re wearing.”

  Jocelyn glanced down at her peacock-colored gown with its delicate French lace trim and applique work around the hem. “This may not be your style, but there are other modes available.”

  Sally sniffed, unconvinced.

  A thought struck Jocelyn. “Do you dress so plainly because of your principles, or because you’re afraid you can’t compete?”

  She half expected her sister-in-law to explode, but Sally considered the question seriously. “Some of both. I have held posts where it was wise to be invisible because of men who might have made my life difficult if they’d found me attractive.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Jocelyn said, a little shocked at Sally’s matter-of-factness about situations that must have been upsetting.

  Sally absently scratched Isis’s neck when the cat head bumped her leg. “Even before I became a governess, I found it wiser to dress severely. David joined the army when he was nineteen, leaving it up to me to run the household. My mother was a lovely lady, but not very practical. Because I was small, I did my best to look and act older when I dealt with tradesmen. After she died, I had to seek employment. My first position was as a schoolteacher, and I might not have been hired if I hadn’t made myself look prim and older than I was. The habit of invisibility has served me well, until now.”

  Jocelyn nodded, understanding better why Sally was so stern, so protective of her brother. No wonder David was tolerant of her sometimes sharp tongue. Rising, she said, “The time has come for a change of style. Come upstairs and we’ll see what we can find in my closet.”

  Sally looked at her with surprise and a touch of anger. “I didn’t come to beg clothes from you.”

  “Of course not.” Jocelyn swept her sister-in-law from the room. “But I always adored playing with dolls and haven’t had the opportunity to do so in years.”

  Sally had to laugh. As they entered her spacious suite, Jocelyn continued, “My maid Marie is quite choosy about which of my castoffs she will accept. She’s easily as well dressed as I am, and it costs her next to nothing.”

  Sally’s mouth quirked up. “You’re saying that if I work at it, I might become as well dressed as a lady’s maid?”

  “Oh, not that well. Marie has that matchless French sense of style. I envy her.” Jocelyn dived into the large closet, which had been built along one wall of her dressing room. “Will you feel better about my frivolity if I tell you that, pound for pound, I match my wardrobe costs with contributions to an orphanage? I have other charities, but this particular one benefits very specifically from how much I spend on clothing.”

  Sally looked startled. Apparently it had never occurred to her that Jocelyn might have charitable interests. Taking a mischievous pleasure in upsetting her sister-in-law’s preconceptions, Jocelyn rang for her maid.

  Marie appeared promptly. She was small, no taller than Sally, but with a more lavishly endowed figure. Wearing a gown of Jocelyn’s that she had altered with her skilled needle, she was very well dressed indeed.

  “Marie, we are going to discover what style best suits Miss Lancaster,” Jocelyn explained. “The hair first. While we’re working on that, think about which of my gowns would look well on her.”

  Sputtering half-hearted protests, Sally was placed in front of the dressing table. Marie unpinned her hair and brushed it out. “Excellent hair,” the maid said thoughtfully. “But something softer is needed, eh?”

  Working together, the three of them devised a style where most of Sally’s hair was pulled back into a gentle twist that waved softly over her ears. With trepidation, Sally also allowed Marie to do some cutting. The result was a fringe of delicate curls around her face. While not inappropriate for a governess, the hairstyle made Sally appear years younger, and much prettier. Under Marie’s tutelage, Sally soon learned how to create the style herself.

  Beginning to get into the spirit of things, Sally didn’t object again when Jocelyn and Marie started digging through the closet. Jocelyn pulled out a simple muslin gown in a shade of dark peach. “I’m tired of this one. Try it on, Sally.”

  Marie opened her mouth, probably to point out that the gown had never been worn, but Jocelyn silenced her with a glance. Her sister-in-law’s need was greater.

  Sally obligingly donned the gown. Marie pinned it at the back and hem, then said, “The mirror, mam’zelle.”

  Sally turned to look into the tall dressing mirror, then gasped. “Is that really me?”

  “It certainly is. You’ve been hiding your light most effectively,” Jocelyn replied, regarding the results with satisfaction. Her sister-in-law’s figure possessed a slim elegance that her normal garments had effectively disguised, and the warm peach tones of the fabric emphasized her fine complexion. While she would never be a classic beauty, she was now a young lady who would draw admiring glances anywhere. Even Ian Kinlock would surely notice.

  She turned to her closet again, her lips pursed thoughtfully. “What else would suit you?”

  As Isis curled up on the discarded navy blue dress, four more gowns joined the gift pile. When the selection was complete, Sally gazed a little helplessly at the sumptuous array of fabrics. “I can’t accept so much, Jocelyn.”

  “Consider the orphans. They’ll benefit when I replace the gowns.”

  Sally laughed. “Since you put it that way . . .”

  The two of them had more tea while Marie altered the peach gown. Since Sally wouldn’t see Ian Kinlock until later, she brushed the cat hair from her navy dress and donned it again. Studying herself in the mirror, she said, “It’s amazing what a different hair style will do. Even in my governess gown, I look much nicer than before.”

  “One more thing.” Jocelyn opened a dresser drawer and brought out a cashmere shawl patterned in russet and gold. With touches of dark blue and brown, it could be worn with almost anything. She felt a faint pang at the thought of parting with the shawl, but it was perfect for Sally. “Take this, too.”

  “Oh, Jocelyn.” Sally made a soft sound as she touched the luxurious fabric. “This is the loveliest thing I’ve ever owned. Thank you again. Your generosity shames me.”

  Jocelyn shook her head. “For true generosity, look to a woman who shares her family’s soup with a hungry stranger. I’ve never lacked for anything, so I deserve no credit for giving away what I don’t need.”

  “The richest family I ever worked for was also the meanest when it came to helping those who were less fortunate.” Sally gave her a shrewd glance. “Why will you never except compliments, Jocelyn?”

  The unexpected question rocked her. Worse was the instant, unnerving answer. Because I don’t deserve them. She had known that ever since—ever since . . .

  Changing the subject, she asked, “Who is Jeanette?”

  “How did you learn about her?” Sally draped the shawl around her shoulders, checking the mirror to see how it hung.

  “David mentioned her name when he was out of his head,” Jocelyn said, carefully casual. “Later I asked who she was, wondering if I should send a note about his recovery,
but he avoided answering. Is she the sort of female men won’t talk about?”

  “No, she’s not of the muslin company. To be honest, with so much happening in the last months I’d almost forgotten her existence.” Sally tweaked a stray curl into place. “According to David’s letters, Jeanette is from a French Royalist family and very lovely. I suspect he meant to offer marriage, but then he was sent to Brussels. He hasn’t mentioned her to me since returning to England.”

  “I see. No doubt he thought it best to write her personally.” Jocelyn carefully folded the peach gown to prevent it from wrinkling when Sally took it home. So David had plans of his own to marry. No wonder he’d suggested annulment as the swiftest way to end their unintended marriage.

  Thinking back to the time he’d asked if she’d considered allowing their union to stand, she realized that he’d been tense when he raised the subject. As soon as she rejected the possibility, he’d relaxed again. Clearly he’d only made the suggestion because of the lawyerly practicality he shared with Crandall. His own attentions were fixed on someone else.

  God and the ecclesiastical courts willing, by spring both of them would be free to follow their hearts. She was glad that his feelings were engaged. Probably that was why it was so easy for them to be friends. She just hoped Jeanette was good enough for him.

  But why, she thought wryly, did a man seem more attractive as he became less available? How humbling to think one had so much in common with a cow stretching its neck through a gate for better grass.

  Before leaving to face the world, Sally studied her image one last time. Her cheeks glowed pink with excitement above the vividly colored shawl. “Will I do?”

  “Perfect. You look lovely, but still yourself,” Jocelyn pronounced. “Remember, though, fine feathers are only part of what is required. More important is to feel that you are attractive. You must believe that it’s only right and proper for Kinlock to find you irresistible.”