Bartered Bride

by Anne Herries

  ‘Is something troubling you, Rothsay?’

  ‘Was I frowning?’ He glanced down at her and smiled. ‘Forgive me, my thoughts had strayed and that is unforgivable on a night like this. Did I tell you that I am very proud of my beautiful fiancée?’

  ‘Proud?’ She lifted her delicate eyebrows, her mouth pursued in a teasing smile that was, had she known it, both provocative and sensual. ‘That is a great change, Rothsay? I believe it is not a month since you called me a damned adventuress.’

  ‘I must beg your pardon for that, Lottie. I did not know you then. You know I mistook you for your sister.’

  Lottie’s cheeks felt warm. He already despised Clarice—what would he think if he knew that she had tried to blackmail her?

  Realising he was waiting for an answer, she looked up at him. ‘And you do know me now? Are you sure?’

  ‘I am beginning to learn more,’ he replied and laughed throatily as he saw the expression in her eyes. ‘You are a minx, Lottie. If we were not entertaining I should punish you for that, but it would take too long and our guests would miss us.’

  Lottie gurgled with laughter. Banter of this kind was amusing. She was very glad she had not brought up the subject of Sam Blake earlier in the day. It would have angered him and thrown a cloud over the evening. As it was, Rothsay seemed to be in a good humour, which meant she could relax and enjoy the ball.

  After their dance, she was surrounded by young gentlemen asking her for a dance. Most of them had only been introduced to her that evening and showered her with compliments, asking ridiculous things like why they had not seen her first, and did she really wish to marry a scoundrel such as Rothsay? Since they were clearly his friends and the banter was all in good fun, she merely laughed and assured them that she was very happy with her choice.

  It was not until much later in the evening that she danced with Sir Bertie Fisher.

  ‘Are you settling in well, Miss Lottie?’ he asked. ‘Mama is delighted to have you as her close neighbour. She tells me she hears good things of you—and I believe you have been shopping together in Northampton?’

  ‘Yes, we have, sir. I bought some beautiful silk for my wedding gown.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the wedding is fast approaching. Tell me where do you go on your honeymoon or has Rothsay kept it to himself?’

  ‘I am not certain we shall go away,’ Lottie replied and now her cheeks felt warm. He was not the first to mention the honeymoon and she was perfectly certain that Rothsay had no idea of it. The word had not crossed his lips and she would not dream of asking such a question when she knew very well the reality of her situation. ‘I believe Rothsay has business and I have much to do here.’

  He said nothing, but she sensed that he thought her answer odd, and perhaps it was. She was not perfectly certain what occurred when two people married for the sake of convenience—did they go through the motions of a honeymoon or simply got on with their independent lives?

  At the end of the dance, she smiled at Bertie, then left him and went upstairs to freshen her gown and apply cool water to her cheeks. It had become very hot in the ballroom and she needed a moment to recover.

  A lowering thought had occurred to her. The young women who had looked at her with envy this evening would very soon be laughing behind their fans when it was realised that Rothsay had little regard for his wife and meant to carry on exactly as before.

  She had known it from the start. She just had not expected it to hurt this much.

  Now she was being quite ridiculous. The ball had put a lot of people to a deal of trouble and she would be stupid to spoil it for them or herself. She must go back down and smile and laugh, as if she were the happiest woman in the world—which she would be if Rothsay loved her.

  Returning to the ballroom, Lottie stood up with her partners for every dance. Rothsay escorted her into supper and their table was one of the largest in the room, everyone wishing to spend at least a few minutes with them. Lottie forgot her doubts as Rothsay teased her and accepted the teasing of his friends in good spirit.

  ‘You are a dashed lucky dog,’ Uncle Freddie said. ‘Had I been twenty years younger, I should have cut you out, Rothsay.’

  Lottie threw him a laughing glance. ‘Had I seen you first, dear Uncle Freddie, it is quite possible that I would have taken you.’

  ‘Sensible gel,’ Uncle Freddie said and winked at her. ‘Keep ’em guessing, that’s the secret of a long and happy marriage. Not that he would be fool enough to stray now that he has found you, m’dear.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lottie replied and glanced at Rothsay. She was shocked by the brooding expression in his eyes. What could he be thinking?

  She wondered if he was thinking of his mistress and wished she could ask if he intended to keep a mistress after they were married, but that of course would be quite shocking. Wives and fiancées did not ask such awkward questions.

  After supper Rothsay claimed his second dance of the evening. It was once again a waltz and as his hand pressed lightly at her waist, she felt as if she were melting with pleasure. The music was sweet and the air was filled with the perfume of the flowers that had been banked along the bottom of the dais. Overhead, the glittering chandeliers threw showers of light over the dancers and their jewels sparkled at throats and fingers. It was, Lottie thought, a scene of privilege and indulgence. Only the very wealthy could afford to give parties of this kind, and she found it sobering to think that the food left over from this evening could probably feed a village community for a week.

  Well, why shouldn’t it? Lottie decided that in the morning she would have some baskets of good food made up and taken to the poorer tenants. It was only right that they should share the delights of their lord’s celebrations. She would speak to Mrs Mann about it in the morning.

  ‘You are very thoughtful, Lottie?’

  ‘Yes, my mind had drifted,’ she said. ‘It must have cost you a great deal for this evening—and a great deal more for the wedding.’

  ‘It is no matter.’ His gaze narrowed. ‘Are you thinking of crying off at the last minute, Lottie?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ she replied. ‘I have no intention of it. I was just thinking of all the people who would benefit from just a little of the money that we have spent this evening.’

  ‘Well, as mistress of Rothsay I dare say you may dispense charity where you see fit in the future.’

  ‘You will not mind if I send food to the tenants?’

  ‘Why should I? My mother always did so, though the last few years I have seldom been here and these things may have been neglected.’

  ‘Then I shall certainly do so. Forgive me, Rothsay. This is not the moment to speak of such things.’

  ‘No, it is not,’ he agreed. ‘We must find time to discuss many subjects, Lottie, but I think we could put serious matters out of our minds until after the wedding, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, certainly. This is a very special night, Rothsay. Thank you for giving me something so wonderful. I am not sure I deserve it.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said and smiled oddly. ‘I think you do, Lottie. Besides, you had all the work of it—so I should be the one thanking you.’

  Their dance ended and Rothsay went off to do his duty, dancing with a married woman, who seemed delighted with his attention and flirted with him desperately.

  Lottie tried not to mind that he appeared to enjoy her efforts. She had been told that Rothsay had a mistress. For all she knew, the woman might be amongst their guests…might even be the lady he was even now escorting out to the terrace.

  She fought an unworthy urge to follow and confront them. Instead, she accepted the hand of her next partner, resisting the temptation to look at the French window through which Rothsay had disappeared with his beautiful partner.

  However, he was back in the ballroom within a few minutes and she saw him talking to Aunt Beth and Henrietta, who were watching the proceedings, but not dancing.

  ‘I am past my dancing days,’ Aunt Be
th protested when Lottie suggested she might care to indulge once or twice.

  She saw Rothsay escort Henrietta from the room and knew that his godmother would have left the ball earlier than most because she could not stand late hours.

  However, he had not returned within half an hour, and the lady who had flirted with him so wickedly was also missing.

  Lottie felt her throat tighten and her smile became a little forced. Surely Rothsay would not have invited his mistress to his engagement ball? It would be a terrible insult, for everyone would know and pity her.

  No, no, she would not deign to think such things. He was no doubt taking the chance of a cigar in the fresh air or perhaps talking with his godmother.

  He returned shortly before the guests began to take their leave and joined her as she said goodbye to them. Most would be returning in a few days for the wedding, some were staying and simply went off to their rooms. When everyone had gone, Rothsay poured himself a glass of brandy from one of the decanters set out on a sideboard.

  ‘Well, Lottie, I think we may say it was successful, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I am sure of it,’ she replied. ‘I am glad you were satisfied with the arrangements, Rothsay. If you will excuse me, I shall go up now. I am a little tired. Goodnight.’

  She left him without another glance. There was a pain in her chest, which she found difficult to bear. The urge to weep was very close, because she could only conclude that Rothsay had been gone so long because he had slipped away to snatch a little time with his mistress.

  Once alone, Lottie allowed Rose to unhook her gown at the back and then sent her off to bed, after thanking her for sitting up so late.

  ‘I can manage now, Rose. Thank you so much for looking after me. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight, miss. I hope as everything went well?’

  ‘Yes, it was all delightful. I shall come to the servants’ hall tomorrow to thank everyone. At the moment all I want to do is sleep.’

  All she really wanted to do was to sleep. Her first rush of emotion resulted in hot bitter tears, but after a while she wiped them away. She was being so foolish. Rothsay did not wish for a clinging bride. He wanted a sensible woman who accepted the fact of his mistress. She could not fault his manner of late. He was polite, considerate, but uninterested in more than a comfortable arrangement.

  She was the fool. She was the one who had gone into this with her eyes open. He had kept his part of the bargain in full and she must do the same. Many gentlemen kept mistresses and their wives turned a blind eye. She must do the same—but she had not expected it to hurt as much as it did.

  For a moment she was overcome with anger and an urgent desire to weep and rage, but she conquered her feelings.

  She must think of all the things that would bring her contentment and make her life worthwhile.

  As Lady Rothsay she could do a great deal of good. Rothsay admitted that he had neglected the things that were so necessary for the well being of his tenants. She could repair much of that neglect. Her marriage would be good for her family. Aunt Beth was assured of a home here or in Bath when Lottie chose to visit, since a house there was one of Rothsay’s wedding gifts. He had been extraordinarily generous, far more so than she could have expected after the way the business began.

  She could not withdraw. She did not wish to withdraw. She had experienced a moment of weakness, but she would conquer it. In the morning, she would become the calm controlled woman the world saw and these needs and longings inside her would be banished to a distant part of her mind.

  Nicolas smoked a last cigar in the gardens. He frowned as he wondered what lay behind the withdrawal he had sensed in Lottie. During their first dance, he had felt her happiness and the closeness between them, and had wished that he could whisk her off somewhere to be thoroughly kissed. However, she had seemed changed when they bid their guests goodnight. He wondered what had happened in his absence. Had she heard something that upset her?

  After escorting Henrietta to her room, because she was too tired to remain longer, he had been called to attend to some business he would rather not have been troubled with on such a night.

  His mouth tightened to a thin line. At the court sessions earlier that day, he had discovered that he was not down to try Sam Blake, but another set of rogues altogether. They were accused of murder and, since they had been caught in the act, the sentencing was easy. He had ordered them to be hung, but their sentences could be exchanged for transportation as a bond servant for seven years should they choose. Men invariably chose the latter and some of his fellow magistrates considered he had been too easy on the rogues.

  It was only after the trial, which had taken some hours because he had listened to all the evidence, that he had learned Bertie Fisher had sat on the poaching case. He had sentenced Sam Blake to three years in the local prison, which was, in Nicolas’s opinion, far too severe. He had remonstrated with Bertie afterwards, but his neighbour was adamant that poaching needed to be stamped on.

  It was, of course, a serious crime, because many violent individuals became involved in the business, which was often linked to other more serious crimes. However, Nicolas had found himself wishing that he had let the man off with a warning in the first place. Especially in the light of what had happened this evening.

  He had been given the news that three men had broken free when being taken back to the prison. Two of them were the murderers, who were to be transported—and the third was Sam Blake.

  ‘The damned fool!’ Nicolas had been frustrated to learn of Blake’s escape. ‘Had he accepted his sentence I might have been able to have it cut in a few months. Now he will be a wanted man and may be shot on sight—and he may well hang if he is taken.’

  The news had unsettled Nicolas, making him disinclined to return to the dancing. He had, however, rejoined Lottie to say goodnight to his guests.

  The point was—was her new mood down to what she had heard or was she merely cross with him for deserting her?

  He threw the cigar into the shrubbery and went in, unaware that he had been watched for some minutes from the shadows.

  Lottie rose a little after her usual time at nine o’clock. She washed in the water Rose had brought her and went down to the breakfast room. She was feeling rested and perfectly calm, her feelings under control. She did not know for certain that Nicolas had been with his mistress the previous evening. Perhaps she had been too hasty in her conclusions and ought to give Rothsay more credit, for he was a gentleman and such behaviour would not have been expected of a true gentleman. She had allowed her jealousy to mislead her.

  A few of the men were already in the breakfast room but there was no sign of the ladies—and she was told Rothsay had been in an hour before her.

  ‘You are an early riser, m’dear,’ Uncle Freddie said and smiled at her approvingly.

  ‘It has always been my habit,’ she said. ‘I do not much care for breakfast in bed, and I like to walk while the dew is still upon the grass.’

  ‘If you go walking this morning, you should take a groom or your maid with you,’ Uncle Freddie said with a frown. ‘I hear there are some dangerous men in the area. I doubt they will come on to the estate, for Rothsay’s keepers are armed and alert, but if you go to the village you should be careful.’

  ‘I do not plan to walk this morning. There is bound to be a great deal of food left from last night, you know. I would not have it wasted. I intend to visit the kitchens after I have eaten and arrange for baskets of food to be taken to our tenants and the poor of the village.’

  ‘That’s the ticket. Don’t approve of waste meself. We always send the food to the local orphanage, though I’m not sure the children see much of it. I dare say the governors take the best for themselves. Not much we can do about it.’

  ‘Oh, I think one ought to try to improve things where one can,’ Lottie said. ‘At home I sometimes visited the workhouse. I think I was able to ease the condition of the poor by being elected to the b
oard to see that the improvements I suggested were carried through. As Rothsay’s wife I shall be able to do more.’

  ‘Yes, you will if you care to,’ he agreed. ‘But all work and no play—you know the saying, m’dear. You must have some fun before you settle into the life here. Rothsay will want you to entertain for him in London, I dare say.’

  Lottie wondered if that were true. She did not think it but would not tell his uncle. Instead, she chatted to him about the wedding and enquired what he wished to do with himself all day.

  ‘Might take you for a drive this afternoon if you have time for it, m’dear. I was accounted a whip in me young days.’

  ‘Would you drive me about the estate? I have never been much further than the lake or the park. I should like to see the village and some of the farms.’

  ‘Delighted,’ Uncle Freddie said, looking pleased with the idea. ‘Rothsay should have done it at the start, but he is an odd fellow at times. I dare say he will wake up to his responsibilities once you are married.’

  Uncle Freddie was a good trencherman and Lottie left him to the enjoyment of his breakfast, having partaken of a cup of tea and a buttered roll with honey herself.

  She visited the kitchens and discussed what Cook felt could be spared from her larder.

  ‘Most of the fancy stuff is finished, Miss Stanton, but there is quite a bit of ham and roast meat left over. It won’t keep more than a day or two at most in this weather. We shall need some of it here, but I’ll be cooking fresh this evening and a lot will waste if last night’s spread isn’t sent out. I had it in mind to send a bit to the tenants, but now that you’ve taken the trouble to consult me I shall send the meat pies and pasties to the village hall. There’s a fête today for the children, miss, and they will find it useful.’

  ‘That is excellent, Mrs Bent. In future you have my permission to send what is not needed here for the poor folk. We shall see if the children can be given a few treats during the year—perhaps a tea or supper at the village hall?’