The Bartered Bridegroom

by Teresa DesJardien

  Still, this made no sense. Large sums had been lost by Papa before. Katherine had always thought he’d used funds not vital to the estate to settle them. But he must have dipped far too deeply this past night—for why else would he now be in such straits? The wager’s sum must be bad enough, large enough, to threaten the estate. That was the only thing that explained Papa’s willingness to accept this proposal... well, that and the significant rise in standing his daughter would take were she to

  become the wife of a marquess’s second son. She would become Lady Benjamin, losing her own Christian name, having to adopt her husband’s style, no more to be known as Katherine except to her most intimate of friends.

  Papa would not be unmoved by such an elevation in his hoydenish daughter’s rank in life. He would, in fact, be delighted with it.

  “But. .. why me, Lord Benjamin?” Katherine spoke directly to the marquess’s son as she rose again to her feet. The muscle in Lord Benjamin’s jaw was working again—she would swear anger filled him, not passion. “Why marriage? You do not love me. You do not even like me, as you do not know me well enough to like me,” she said aloud the questions to which she could think of no sensible answers. “Your precedence ... we all know you could do better than to marry me, a lowly knight’s daughter, little known for her polish. Oh!” she cried, thinking again of the debt her papa had claimed. “It has to do with money! You require money! That is why you are willing to marry so far beneath you!”

  She almost felt relieved, for at last she understood. “But there has to be another way to settle this. I assure you my person, my dowry, is far less valuable than, say, a piece of land Papa might deed to you, or perhaps some of the horses and a carriage or two from his stables—”

  Lord Benjamin cut her off by abruptly turning away. His hands gripped together behind his back; he had posed much the same way after kissing her—although now his wide shoulders were held stiff, and any banter was erased. “Only a betrothal will do,” he said over his shoulder to her, his tone flat, brooking no argument.

  Then he must need a wife to go along with the money. That was the only explanation that seemed logical.

  Equally clear, he did not have time to court someone. What could cause such haste? Did he need to be married to fulfill some codicil of a will? To reestablish his name via a connection to an unsullied female? But none of that stood to reason! As far as unsullied females went, a man could do better than to ally himself with the “peculiar Miss Oakes...

  Whatever demon drove him it was not her concern. She was betrothed to Cyril Cullman. Not even Papa’s unexpected dictates could change that reality or her allegiance, because in a mere month she would be of age, and she would marry as she wished. Papa could lock her in her room, but he could not stop time from moving forward. He could not insist on this betrothal.

  Still, curiosity filled Katherine. Papa had to know his daughter could not be made to marry where she did not wish, and Lord Benjamin had done nothing to woo her. So whatever could have made them call her from her bed in the dawn hour in hopes of achieving such an improbable result as her agreement?

  She drew herself up, looking down her nose at the back her “suitor” had turned to her. “Lord Benjamin,” she said with icy calm, “I believe I deserve to know why you are so anxious to marry me, and in such a hurry. Please explain.”

  Chapter 6

  Papa groaned and settled heavily in a chair, while Lord Benjamin turned and stared at Katherine. Merciful heavens, what was the man thinking to create such a searing light in his gaze? What could have driven him to take the bizarre step of asking for the hand of the woman he had scolded yesterday, a woman whom he obviously disliked?

  To her surprise, he blinked as he turned to face her and the anger died back. He even gave a laugh, the sound more angry than amused, but a laugh all the same. Perhaps his shoulders relaxed a little.

  “Miss Oakes, could it be that there is a wager? One that stated I could not be betrothed by cock’s crow?”

  “Another wager?” Added to whatever folly in which Papa had entangled himself, and her? By cock’s crow . ..

  “The sun is already up,” Katherine pointed out, relief surging at the thought. “The cock has already crowed.”

  “And your father has already granted me your hand.” Katherine winced, as one does when one has been struck, unable to deny his claim.

  “You would do . .. this? Become engaged, for the sake of a wager? Is it not enough that you have forced my father’s hand through gaming?”

  He shook his head, not at what she’d said but some inner turmoil of his own, she presumed. He is not pleased at this either, she thought with a tremor of surprise.

  “You will recall that you owe me a favor—that there was an agreement between us,” he stated.

  Papa threw her a baffled look from where he sat, his elbows on his knees and his hands twined together. “You have met before tonight?”

  “Very briefly,” Lord Benjamin said, sounding banal, as if their first meeting had been nothing, had been normal. “Through a mutual acquaintance.”

  A mutual acquaintance named Fallen Angel, Katherine thought, grateful that Lord Benjamin made their only other meeting sound as if it had occurred in a crowded ballroom. Certainly Papa’s expression relaxed.

  “I now call in that favor, Miss Oakes,” Lord Benjamin went on. He lifted his chin, the gesture silently demanding she pay his words heed. “I ask that you agree to be publicly betrothed to me for a month. Then, if you wish, you may cry off and I shall disappear from your life forever. You need not truly marry me. That assurance must put your mind at ease, to where you can agree that it is hardly an unfair favor that I ask?”

  “Not unfair, no,” she said, meeting his light-blue eyes squarely, as if she might understand if only she could see there into his soul. However, his steady gaze told her nothing. “But it is a favor that makes no sense. I can understand a need to marry—but a need to merely be betrothed for a month?”

  His mouth worked for a moment, and he cast a quick glance toward her father. “All that is important is that I be betrothed.” She nodded, a shadow of tranquillity returning to her as she considered that her questions held no real purpose, for she would not concede to his request. How could she? She was betrothed to Mr. Cullman. Still, she wanted to understand before she gave this man her complete refusal.

  “But I must ask you again, why me? Did you hope this particular family would lose to you? Did we appear grasping and eager to advance our precedence through marriage? Or would it have served to gamble against any woman’s father, so long as he had a marriageable daughter?”

  Lord Benjamin scowled at her—confusing her even further, for why should he want to be betrothed to a woman he could look at with such daggers, even for only a month?

  Because not many women would agree to a false betrothal, she answered her own question. Papa’s debt to this man had put her in a uniquely vulnerable position.

  “Your father’s involvement was ... what circumstances dictated,” he said through a tight mouth.

  It was not much of an answer, but all the same Katherine felt

  another wash of relief. She understood that something larger, something beyond this one foolish wager, was transpiring. She understood that the matter involved her, but it was not about her.

  “You asked for a betrothal of one month. Why? No, you need not answer that.” She made a little discarding motion with her hand, cutting off the comment he’d parted his lips to offer. “I know already. You said you needed to be betrothed, but that marriage is unimportant. Clearly, you want me to play a part, in public—for reasons that you are reluctant to reveal. I see that much. But, Lord Benjamin, what would become of me after that month?”

  “You will cry off.” He looked as if he’d sipped bitter wine; the words were unpleasant for him to utter.

  “Ah!” She considered, a finger to her chin, as she began to pace. “I could do that, of course. No harm in that. A lady is allowed
to change her mind.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Exactly,” she repeated, still pacing. She wondered if he heard the derision in her voice.

  She came to a halt, turning to her father. “Let me see if I have this correct. We pretend to be betrothed for a month, then I cry off,” she said succinctly. “We do not marry. I am not to know why we must be betrothed in the first place, nor how it is that Lord Benjamin stands to profit from this peculiar arrangement even though we part at its end. All the same, Papa’s debt to you”—she glanced toward Lord Benjamin—“is then considered settled. You will be free to do whatever it is you wish, as will I, matrimonially or otherwise. Do I have this correct?”

  Lord Benjamin nodded, relief shining through his gaze despite the continued frown that had settled between his brows.

  “But it seems to me that I am the only one who would not profit in any particular way from this arrangement,” Katherine said. She raised her left eyebrow, the gesture meant as a challenge.

  “Katherine—” Papa said in warning tones, but Lord Benjamin waved his objection down.

  “She is correct. She should gain something from this as well, since it must be agreed that crying off from a betrothal does not. . .” He fumbled for the right word.

  “Does not enhance my worth on the marriage mart?” Katherine supplied crisply. The words ought not sting, but they did. A lady had to have some pride of self, after all, lest she be slovenly or lacking any spirit. And self-pride did not welcome questions as to its integrity.

  “Exactly,” he said, the sound almost a sigh. “Name your price.”

  “Ah. How tidy,” she said, not quite able to keep the acid from her tone. “A business arrangement.”

  He made a small noise, not quite a laugh but more like derision. “What betrothal is anything else?”

  “There is love.”

  “Foolishness!” Papa said.

  Lord Benjamin merely shook his head.

  “You do not believe in love?” Katherine asked.

  She was not a romantic. She certainly believed in love, but she knew that life was made up of more than the curiously delicious sensations awakened by kisses and notions of love. Choices that would affect the rest of her life, a potential marriage, potential children, were vitally important and must be made with care. “Love” did not lend itself to care or caution. Love was a thing given over to acts of spontaneity, to giddiness, to regrets or perhaps relief if all went well despite a hasty choice. Love was irrelevant to marriage—especially in this instance, where a marriage was never meant to go forward.

  Lord Benjamin’s answer to the question of love was also irrelevant now, since she’d not accept his suit—but his hesitation intrigued her. Why should it? No matter what he said, she meant to stand by her betrothal to Mr. Cullman—a logical, appropriate choice. Why would she care for one moment if Lord Benjamin believed in love?

  “Love?” Lord Benjamin repeated. “Do I believe in it?” He blinked twice, and it was clear his vision had turned inward, toward memories. “No,” he spoke slowly. “That is, once I did not believe that love could last between a man and a woman. I was sure marriage was only a contract, long and binding and terrible.”

  Katherine fell still. Of whom did he speak? Whose marriage had left such a legacy? His parents’?

  “Once?” Katherine shivered ever so slightly, for Papa had asked the question that had risen to her own lips—as if the answer was important for him to hear as well.

  “Then I saw my brother and his wife,” Lord Benjamin said. He blinked again, and he was back in the moment, and spots of color appeared along his cheekbones as he realized the other two occupants of the room stared at him. “They love each other. I do not doubt it,” he said very low.

  He does believe in their love, Katherine thought, feeling slightly dazed. She might not be a romantic, but it astonished her to find that at least some small part of Lord Benjamin was. She never would have guessed such a courtly sentiment could reside in this man.

  He nodded, swallowed, and his expression shifted, making it clear that he would offer no more elaboration on the matter.

  He folded his hands together before him. “What say you, Miss Oakes? Will you have the false betrothal?” A quick denial was poised on her lips, but he went on. “Will you save your papa from the debt he says he owes me?”

  The two men exchanged yet another long, speaking glance, and Katherine felt her throat tighten around the single, firm negative she’d meant to utter.

  The debt. She had pushed aside looking at the catalyst to all of this foolishness. She’d all but forgotten that Papa was deeply, perhaps even ruinously, in debt to this man. Too, she’d tried to ignore a keener, more awful understanding: that Papa had done what she never would have believed he’d do. He had traded Katherine’s hand in marriage in exchange for release from this obligation he owed Lord Benjamin.

  It was not merely her future being decided this early morning, nor even Mr. Cullman’s, but the future as it included Papa. What affected him, affected her brothers.

  “Papa, is there no other way?” she pleaded, her hands balling into fists within the folds of her skirts.

  Papa shook his head, and refused to meet her gaze as he sank into a chair positioned before the fireless grate. “Reputations are at stake, Katie,” he mumbled.

  Not just money, but reputations, too? How large was this debt, to make Papa behave this way?

  “Miss Oakes?” Lord Benjamin asked quietly, even politely. “Is there to be a betrothal between us?”

  “Yes,” she said, her decision made in a moment’s time, because there was no other answer to give. She would not ruin her family, not for the mere loss of one month’s time. She only had to playact for a handful of weeks, and then her future would be hers once more to direct. For Papa’s sake, for her brothers, for the good of the family, she must comply with the situation.

  Lord Benjamin nodded, but he did not look particularly gratified. How curious, Katherine thought.

  “For Papa’s sake I will be betrothed to you. Lord Benjamin,” she elaborated. “I will not marry you, ever. No matter the consequences.” She glared at him. “Just so we are entirely clear on that specific point.”

  He gave another nod. “Entirely clear.” If anything, he now looked faintly startled, as if she had surprised him. It would seem Lord Benjamin had not been completely sure of his ability to gain what he wanted. Good. She liked that he was not completely complacent, and that at least in this one matter she could read his feelings on his face.

  His face—that was one thing she could credit him with: an open face. It might be filled with censure, or outrage, or disappointment, but at least he did not hide his thoughts. That betokened a kind of honesty in his nature, if not nobility. Too, she admitted reluctantly to herself, there was something rather winning about a face not schooled into what she had come to call ‘Town sophistication,” a kind of urbane ennui, such as she saw daily at London gatherings . . . and even sometimes written across Mr. Cullman’s features.

  Staring into the face of the man to whom she’d just promised a thirty-day betrothal, it struck Katherine anew that while Lord Benjamin might not hold a candle to Cyril Cullman’s handsome face and stylish mode, he had a kind of rugged, unflamboyant good looks. A woman could go about town on the arm of a dozen less appealing men, she thought, startling herself with the observation. She lowered her gaze from him, a little shocked at herself for having stared so long at him and for the thought that had come unbidden to her mind.

  If she was to think of appealing faces, better to think of Cyril’s—and to fret how it would appear when he heard this news. Katherine shuddered, trying to imagine how she would feel if their roles were reversed and she must hear that he was

  betrothed to someone else, albeit “only for a month.” She closed her eyes, letting out a silent breath meant to help calm the agitation she felt.

  There was no point in thinking that way. It would not be the same. As the
woman. Katherine had every right to cry off—and she would, the very moment she could. Until then, she could only try to see that Cyril heard the news first from her. She’d explain how false it all was to be, how fleeting. He will understand, she told herself—and shuddered again, not entirely sure of her own assertion.

  “Katie?” Papa looked up from his seat, concern etched on his face. She shook her head, silently telling him nothing was amiss. Not amiss? How droll! Everything was amiss—and it would take a month before it could all be put right again.

  Plundering the depths of her nature for something that might pass for poise, she turned with at least an outward show of calm to Lord Benjamin. “I will do this,” she told him, “but for my own sake I demand one thing you must do for me. If you do not, and not to your best ability, I will immediately terminate this charade of a betrothal. I will shout out the truth to all of London, with no consideration for this month of pretense you demand.”

  He grimaced over a nod of comprehension. “I understand. What would you have me do?”

  At least he did not insist on pretense among themselves—his directness was something to his credit. He sounded reasonable, even . . . rueful. Rueful? It must be her imagination, for what could motivate a man to arrange a false betrothal and also make him regret the need? If indeed he regretted any of this lunacy he’d fashioned.

  “I want for you, as my supposed fiancй,” Katherine stated, “to act as my representative in business matters.”

  “Business matters?” Papa scowled. “I can conduct any business matters for you, Katherine.”

  “Can, but will not,” she said, the demand in her voice giving way to something softer. She hoped her words would not sting too sharply if they were more gently said. “You will never do what I wish. Papa.”

  “I—!” Offense colored his features as he sprang to his feet. He blustered for a moment, roughly stuffing his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, but after a brief struggle he managed to suppress his exasperation. "So then,” he said in a voice stiff with hard-won control, “what is this that you wish I would do for you but claim I would not?”