by Rose Lerner
“If you don’t expect me to convert, and you don’t mind our children being Jewish—” She hesitated. “That is, I know you may want to celebrate your holidays with them. But it can’t be only that. I can’t—I want them to have what I didn’t. To grow up knowing our prayers and having friends like themselves.” Meyer’s children, she thought, with a bittersweet, hopeful pang. Her kids would have that big family, she promised herself. One way or another. “If you’re willing to sort all that out, then I want to see if forever is a possibility. With you. I—”
Gladness transformed his face. Words didn’t seem like enough, suddenly. She went to him and kissed him, almost crying again with how relieved she felt, how happy, to feel his mouth against hers. She could feel herself lighting up inside like a chandelier, one small candle after another.
“I spoke to Clement,” he said, his smile breaking out, “and he talked to St. Aubyn with me. I showed him my design for the ruin. He loved it, and he’s going to buy it for his place in Kent. I don’t know why I didn’t just do that at once, instead of throwing up my hands and bemoaning my fate. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you too. I’m sorry I didn’t take you seriously, only because you were English.”
He hooked a finger in her sash. His eyes gleamed happily, slicing right into her, and it felt wonderful. “I told you I’d endure a week of agony if it would save you a moment of unwished-for pain,” he said. “But do you remember when you said, Who else should one be angry at but one’s friends? I think...I think that if we wish to be closer to each other than anyone, we shall likely cause each other more pain than anyone. Just as a consequence of proximity. It’s hard to reconcile myself to the idea. I’m sorry I laughed at Henney’s name. I’m sorry I let my pride rule me, and make me think I must offer you money, or a house, or a family, or anything more than just myself. I’m so sorry I said that, about your reputation, and my fathers’ parishioners. I’m sorry I didn’t credit you with an ordinary human capacity for hurt and fear, only because you’re brave. I wish I could promise not to hurt you again, but I suppose I will. I can only promise you that I’ll always be sorry. I’ll always try to make it up to you. And I’ll always love you.”
Maggie blazed with light. “Offer me yourself. I’ll take it.”
“St. Aubyn’s given me an advance and offered to let us go at once to his property to draw up proper plans. Will you go to Kent with me?”
“Yes,” she said, and then wanted to say more. Wanted to be the one asking, finally.
I do, actually, want to find someone who’ll ask me to marry them, he’d said a lifetime ago, and she’d thought it was so sweet. “And—of course it’s too soon to talk about forever. But let’s, this year, look at the problems one after another, and find solutions. And in a year, if I still feel about you how I do now, I’ll ask you to marry me.”
He crushed her to him and held her tight. “I’d like that,” he said into her hair.
There was one more thing she was afraid to say. She made herself say it, her cheek pressed against his coat. “I’ve never even been faithful to a man before. I don’t know if I’ll like it.”
He let her go, and there was a silence. She held her breath. “Do you think, between us, faithfulness might mean something other than strict chastity?” he asked hesitantly. “I don’t see why holding our own connection sacred should prevent us from, possibly, forming others. I don’t—” He laughed, ducking his head. “The truth is, Maggie, that I hope you won’t expect me to go at the pace I’ve been going forever. You may want other company to satisfy you, after a while.”
Relief flooded her. If he did not mean, by marriage, what people commonly expected it to mean—if he was willing to negotiate—if he did not begrudge her freedom—maybe they could have forever.
He bit his lip. “I think part of why I set my heart on marriage so soon, was because I’m afraid you won’t feel the same in a year. That your feelings will change, and then there’ll be nothing holding you to me. It’s small of me.”
I’m behaving like Clement, he meant. She knew him so well already. In six months, she would know him much better. For a second she thought, Get the ring on your finger before he comes to his senses. What a pair they were!
“I don’t think they’ll change,” she said impulsively. “I think—I think they’ll be more, such a great mass of feeling I don’t know how I’ll cram it into my heart.”
“We should probably wait to begin living together,” he said reluctantly.
“Yes.” She tried to be sensible. “Not—not too long. But I couldn’t afford it just now, anyway. I think I need to open a bank account, and start putting money in it. I’m so cross with myself for not having saved anything!”
“I need another account, too, one I can’t draw on. I always deposit my money straightaway in the bank, good as gold, and then a week later it’s gone on bills and notes of hand. Might we make a pact, and go to the bank together?”
“I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Yet.” His blue eyes sparkled. “Give me time.”
“I will,” she promised.
From Rose
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Thank you for reading All or Nothing! I hope you enjoyed Simon and Maggie’s story.
Would you like to know when my next book is available? Sign up for my newsletter at www.roselerner.com/, or follow me on twitter (@roselerner) or tumblr at http://roselerner.tumblr.com/.
Visit my website for free short stories and DVD extras like deleted scenes and bibliographies.
Turn the page to learn more about my other Regency romances, including True Pretenses, in which a small-town heiress desperate to get her hands on her dowry offers a marriage of convenience to a traveling con artist.
More books by Rose
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Lively St. Lemeston series
Sweet Disorder
True Pretenses
Listen to the Moon
To find out when new Lively St. Lemeston books release, sign up for my newsletter!
Not in any series
In for a Penny
A Lily Among Thorns
* * *
True Pretenses
* * *
Never steal a heart unless you can afford to lose your own.
Through sheer force of will, Ash Cohen raised himself and his younger brother from the London slums to become the best of confidence men. He’s heartbroken to learn Rafe wants out of the life, but determined to grant his brother his wish.
It seems simple: find a lonely, wealthy woman. If he can get her to fall in love with Rafe, his brother will be set. There’s just one problem—Ash can’t take his eyes off her.
Heiress Lydia Reeve is immediately drawn to the kind, unassuming stranger who asks to tour her family’s portrait gallery. And if she married, she could use the money from her dowry for her philanthropic schemes. The attraction seems mutual and oh so serendipitous—until she realizes Ash is determined to matchmake for his younger brother.
When Lydia’s passionate kiss puts Rafe’s future at risk, Ash is forced to reveal a terrible family secret. Rafe disappears, and Lydia asks Ash to marry her instead. Leaving Ash to wonder—did he choose the perfect woman for his brother, or for himself?
Warning: Contains secrets and pies.
Buy it now!
The Liar’s Dice
Jeannie Lin
Lady Bai, called Wei-wei by her aristocratic family, has always been the perfectly obedient daughter—but only on the outside. Inwardly she dreams of freedom. When she dares to pay a forbidden visit to a public tea garden in men's clothing, only Gao looks close enough to notice her borrowed robes. Alas, looking closely at the enigmatic Gao tells Wei-wei only one thing: he's a scoundrel.
When the pair witness a fatal stabbing, Gao surprises her by staying at her side as she investigates the brutal crime. Together they uncover more secrets, somehow tied to her brother and the seedy gambling dens
he's been visiting on the sly. Gao seems to know far too much about the brutal ways of the street, but Wei-wei is drawn to him and his habit of seeing through all her disguises.
Wei-wei revels in her newfound independence and her growing feelings for her mysterious companion, but all too soon she's faced with a cruel choice — discover the truth and bring the killer to justice, or protect her family at all costs.
The Liar's Dice is a novella in the Lotus Palace series, taking place after the events of The Jade Temptress.
Acknowledgments
* * *
When I was first approached to do this anthology by Rose Lerner, I didn’t have a story in my head. I wasn’t planning on writing another story in the Lotus Palace/Pingkang Li Mysteries story for a while and, despite frequent inquiries about the character of Wei-wei, didn’t know when or how she’d get her own story.
So I really have to give special thanks to Rose Lerner for asking me to come along on this journey. And for helping me along the way with advice and encouragement. Also a huge thanks to Molly O’Keefe who, along with Rose, spearheaded this wonderful collection.
Chapter 1
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I’ve always lived in a world of books. The feel of paper beneath my fingertips is as warm and familiar to me as a mother’s embrace. I could barely walk before my father put a brush in my hand. It didn’t matter that I was a daughter instead of a precious son. Ours was a family of poets and scholars. Learning was what bound us together, from this generation to the last and the one before.
It was unfortunate that life didn’t unfold as it did on the page. For instance, I had studied every line of the tale of scholar Liang and maiden Zhu. From the start of their ill-fated love to the moment their spirits were transformed into butterflies. Two lovers finally reunited as they circled one another in the sky.
In the story, maiden Zhu dons the robes of a scholar and ties back her hair. Immediately she is transformed. No one questions or discovers her identity, even though she studies side by side with male students. She convinces everyone, even those closest to her, that she is a young man.
Yet here I was, wearing one of my brother’s discarded robes, and I couldn’t even convince myself. I ran my hands over the material, straightening and tugging and straightening again while I stared into my bronze mirror.
It was dark outside. No one would notice, I kept telling myself. I gave my sleeves one final tug before extinguishing the lantern and slipping out into the courtyard.
I fidgeted all the way to the stable. I had been waiting for months for a chance like this. Huang, my eldest brother, had informed us that his duties in the imperial archives would keep him late into the night. He’d been appointed assistant collator shortly after passing the imperial exams. The rest of the household would be occupied with Yue-ying. Huang’s wife was with child and in her eighth month.
Mother hovered anxiously by Yue-ying’s bedside while our maidservants took turns rubbing Yue-ying’s back and offering special soups and herbal remedies. We were all anticipating the arrival of the next member of the Bai family. “It will be another son!” the servants proclaimed, because that was the highest blessing one could give. Mother’s eyes would shine proudly at the thought of a grandson.
The Bai family was notorious for producing strong, capable sons. And here I was, like maiden Zhu, born so tragically a daughter.
At twenty-five, I was practically a forgotten woman, unmarried and overlooked. My family still called me Wei-wei, my childhood name. A milk name. I didn’t mind so much most days. Fate was what it was and I’d never been anything but Wei-wei, a daughter among sons. But still I wondered what it would be like to know the freedom of being a man, even for one night.
With Huang gone and the household distracted, I reached the stable without incident. Zhou Dan had prepared the horse and carriage in advance, just as we’d agreed.
The manservant lifted his lantern as I approached, revealing a scowl on his youthful face. Zhou Dan had been born a year after my brother and one year before me.
“Just for a few hours,” I assured him, straightening my cap once more before climbing in back.
His scowl deepened, but he made no argument. We had already discussed this earlier. Zhou Dan had turned a blind eye on Huang’s exploits many a time. He had also collected a few indiscretions of his own, indiscretions I was well aware of, but the master and mistress of the house were not. And I made certain Father and Mother remained unaware.
Yes, we had discussed all this days ago.
Zhou Dan drove the carriage forward, with the horse plodding at a slow and steady pace. Zhou Dan left his seat to shut the stable door and then we were away, down our lane and onto the main avenue.
I breathed in the cool night air, willing myself to remain calm. To not waver. Whenever my father or Huang addressed anyone, they did so with confidence.
The city of Chang’an enforced a curfew after sundown, but my brother Huang moved between the gated wards at night without being challenged. It hadn’t been too difficult to seek out a night pass. I’d made a copy, matching each character brush stroke for brush stroke.
We reached the ward gate and I held out my pass while my heartbeat raced. But the guardsman waved us on with barely a glance. I was almost disappointed. That piece of paper had taken me hours of work.
As the carriage rolled forward, my heart beat even faster, but this time with elation. I felt as if I were floating. The adventure had begun!
I had been preparing for this outing for months. In truth, I had been preparing my entire life in many ways, small and large. First there were the writings. Outside of my family, I spent more time with books than people.
Maiden Zhu’s story had planted the idea in my mind, but it said little of the actual complications of disguising herself. So I sought out poems and writings about the scholarly life. Scholars seemed to write quite a bit about their youth, usually with a sentimental air. And most importantly, I observed how my father and Huang spoke and behaved around other men.
Exhaling slowly, I threw back my shoulders and puffed out my chest. My chin lifted to an angle that spoke of status and confidence. No averted gazes, no covering of mouths when I smiled or laughed. From what I could see, it was these few inches and angles that made the difference. Secrets no one mentioned in tales of Zhu and Liang or any other writing.
The carriage rolled past the outskirts of the North Market. Though gates to the main market were closed, the ward was far from asleep.
I was stunned by the glow of lanterns hung over shop doors and food stands. There was a thriving night market set up along the lane. Benches had been set out and workmen gathered, sitting shoulder to shoulder to have their evening meal. The smell of a rich, savory stew filled the air. The night felt similarly rich, laced with hidden spices.
At a time when our household had retired, these citizens were just beginning their evening. They were laborers and merchants, I realized. Their leisure time didn’t begin until after the market gong sounded and the streets closed.
The lanterns became sparser as the carriage rolled on, but they continued to light our way, hanging from the occasional post and entrance way. Our destination was at the edge of the warehouse district. I had never been there, never been allowed, but my brother had spoken of it. Zhou Dan seemed to know it as well.
The tea house had celebrated its opening ceremony a few months earlier. I’d wanted so desperately to attend, but it was out of the question. A daughter from a wealthy family in a common tea house? Scandal.
Yet drinking establishments were known to be places where scholars went to meet and make themselves known, discussing politics and poetry. Apparently men went to such gatherings to build their reputations, yet for a woman they meant nothing but ruin.
Zhou Dan brought the carriage to a halt in the street in front of a two-story building. Light glowed from inside, and the faint hum of conversation made my pulse quicken. This was where ideas were exchanged. This was where things h
appened.
As I climbed down to the street, Zhou Dan reached for me, his hand just grazing my sleeve. “Lady Bai—”
“Not a lady,” I whispered through my teeth.
He sighed, resigned. “Be careful.”
I ran my hand over the front of my robe once more, as if the action would somehow bring the illusion to life. The robe belonged to Huang, from his more flamboyant days when he frequented the pleasure quarter. I’d mended it myself.
Zhou Dan stayed outside with the carriage, while I strode inside like I belonged there. That was something else about the way men moved. As if they had a right to be anywhere and everywhere. Even the polite bow upon greeting wasn’t so much asking permission as much as acknowledgment. I am here.
Well, I was here. The moment I set foot inside the main room, I realized something.
I had no idea how one walks into a tea house. I had studied the classics and poems about the pleasure quarter. I was certain that for every essay my brothers had read, I had memorized ten. But no father or uncle or cheerful colleague had ever taken me into an establishment like this.