The Marriage Bargain

by Blaise Kilgallen

  And when I’m in Surrey, I shall be able to visit my relatives’ graves there.

  Remembering her heartache upon leaving the tiny hamlet where she grew up, that reason alone made up the difference.

  And it would be tantamount to a year’s worth of happiness to spend a week in the country—with pleasure, excitement, and frivolity.

  Meanwhile Wilma waited and fidgeted. Her blue eyes seemed worried because of Emily’s quiet diddling. The viscountess said, “I am crossing my fingers and praying you will agree. Please say yes!”

  Finally, Emily responded. “Perhaps I will accept your invitation after all…”

  Wilma’s face brightened considerably after hearing those words. “Oh, yes, Emmie. It will be grand fun for both of us! I want to spend more time with you, and, now I can. You will see that my dear Harry isn’t stuffy. Not at all a pompous husband. He’ll love having you hanging on his other arm—strutting his stuff among his peers at the Carlisles’ party.”

  “If you’re certain your husband won’t think it crude for me to be your guest, then I’ll accept. And thank you, Willy.”

  “Oh, Em, I’m so happy you will come with us! And so shall my husband. Trust me, he will.”

  Emily inhaled, allowing her lungs to fully inflate. She had been half listening to chatter from her friend as she nibbled on a fruit pastry. Her insides had since calmed down instead of rumbling with strange noises. Suddenly ravenous, she devoured three of the delicious pastries without thinking. Wilma ordered another pot of tea and rattled on more excitedly about the Duke’s house party.

  With fate smiling down on her while with her former bosom bow, Emily’s troubled world ended rather happily. The Duke of Carlisle’s estate was in walking distance to her childhood home. She could visit her parents’ graves. She hadn’t been able to do so in two years. Anticipation grew with the notion. After leaving Tony her blue devils finally faded. She would update her wardrobe. She may not be quite a drab country mouse after that. She couldn’t afford the best, but she heard of secondhand rag shops that stocked elegant, expensive garments no longer worn by wealthy women who gave them to their servants to sell.

  Emily lost something precious today when Tony didn’t stop her hasty departure, but her diminished ego and tattered self-respect soon reemerged smiling. She no longer blamed herself, and instead, she placed the onus where it belonged—on her adopted uncle and London’s caddish Anthony Kendall. Drat them both!

  Finally saying their farewells, Emily hugged Wilma gleefully. She would spend the rest of her afternoon shopping.

  “Let me go with you, Em. I’ll add your purchases to my account.”

  “No, Wilma. Earl Leathem has been quite generous. I have no expenses at Fielding House. The more I think about it, the more I know I can afford what I need for the Duke’s party.”

  A short time after she left Wilma, Emily located secondhand shops on a side street. She rummaged through several and chose three pretty, muslin gowns for daytime wear, and two elaborate gowns for evening, all of them purported to be worn only once or twice. Her expanded wardrobe cost less than she would pay for a single ball gown at a London modiste’s. She added other fripperies like underpinnings and nightwear, and was especially delighted when she spotted two saucy bonnets in another shop window, also at affordable prices. One sported a jaunty, fluffy ostrich feather. In the same shop, she picked up two pairs of serviceable satin slippers and a pair of leather half boots that showed only minor scuffing on the soles. She also purchased several pairs of fancy silk stockings with clocks up the sides and for which she had always pined. Each new purchase seemed to energize her and sooth her raw nerves.

  Emily had been imbued by a fashionable sense. She felt certain she wouldn’t embarrass Wilma or her viscount because of her secondhand wardrobe. Her mother taught her good taste along with proper speech and ladylike behavior. When she thought about Wilma’s invitation, Emily’s spirits soared. She had indulged in an orgy of buying during the afternoon hours, but she bought wisely although she spent more than she expected.

  If not now, I may never again rub shoulders with the cream of London’s Society. Besides, my purchases will do double duty for several more months.

  Chapter 3

  EMILY’S arms were full of packages when she returned to Fielding House. Seeing her come up the front steps when his butler opened the front door, Gavin met her in the foyer. Two bulky bundles tumbled from her hands. He quickly stooped to retrieve them.

  “Are you shopping for your trousseau, Miss Dancy?” the earl inquired, chuckling as a dark eyebrow quirked upward. “Has Kendall popped the question?”

  Emily winced, juggling several other small packages. “As luck would have it, my lord, Mr. Kendall did not.”

  Somewhat surprised by her answer, the earl grabbed a package that was about to drop to the floor. “Come here, I’ll help you with these.” He nodded toward the staircase to the upper floor. Then he asked, “Why is that?”

  Emily quipped, “My tryst with Mr. Kendall…as you called it, my lord…didn’t go the way you guessed it might.”

  Gavin saw a tiny sardonic twist to Lilianne’s governess’s lips, and a sharp ring to her usually muted voice.

  “I don’t expect to see Mr. Kendall again anytime soon,” Emily finished briskly.

  The earl cleared his throat, sensing he had been rather blunt with his question. “Well, umm, I am sorry to hear that.” His lips pronounced the words, but Gavin felt much better knowing Emily wasn’t affianced to Baron Kendall’s rakish whelp. “Sorry Kendall wasn’t the man you thought him to be.”

  Her back was toward the earl as she strode up the central stairs in front of him. “May I ask you something, Lord Leathem?”

  Gavin had halted a step below her and frowned. “Don’t tell me you are giving me notice again, because I haven’t changed my mind. I won’t accept your resignation,” he replied firmly. “I said so earlier today.”

  His hands were full of Emily’s purchases as she looked over her shoulder at him. One step apart and slightly even with his dark eyes, Emily’s gaze met with frowning annoyance in Leathem’s.

  “That’s not it, my lord,” she said, her head swinging from side to side. “I bumped into a childhood friend of mine this afternoon on Regent Street. Her name is…was…Wilma Traymore. She is now Viscountess Porter.”

  “I know Harry Porter. He is a member of my club. Umm…quite a coincidence that you should be acquainted with his wife.”

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it? Wilma mentioned her husband knows you after I told her you hired me as Lilianne’s governess.”

  “Porter’s a fine fellow. However, I never had the pleasure of making his wife’s acquaintance.”

  “And I have never met Wilma’s husband. But she and I grew up in the same village. It was a wonderful surprise to run into her here in London.”

  “I don’t recall you mentioning your birthplace. Where is that?”

  “I grew up in Surrey, Lord Leathem, a tiny village called Toynton-under-Hill. I was a toddler when my parents arrived in Surrey.”

  Gavin’s mind snapped into recall. Some things were strange and some were coincidental, weren’t they? He was recently invited to a house party at Wyndemere, the Duke of Carlisle’s estate near the same small village. He had his secretary accept the invitation just this morning.

  “Wilma and I lost touch for almost two years.” Emily swallowed. “And I missed her terribly during that time. But when we met accidentally today, she and I stopped for tea, and Wilma invited me to spend a week with her so we can become reacquainted.”

  Emily never mentioned where that visit was to be spent.

  “I told her I would love to, but I needed your permission.” She met the earl’s eyes, hesitatingly. “I hoped you would allow me to take my holiday with her.”

  “Hmm…well, now,” Gavin replied, his baritone pleasantly modulated. “It just so happens I plan to be away next week. I was about to sugg
est that you accompany Lilianne and me to my aunt’s home in Oxfordshire. It could be a nice break in routine for you.”

  Gavin nudged past Emily as he spoke and strode along the upper hall. “Let’s put these packages in your bedchamber, shall we? Then we can talk.”

  Emily followed him. He paused at her door. “Is that the same week you wish to be on holiday, the same time as Lilianne and I shall be away?”

  “Yes, the week after this.” Her words hung in the space between them. “But I could change it—”

  The earl paused, raising a quelling hand. “No need, Miss Dancy. I understand why you might prefer to be with your friend after a long separation rather than a week spent with my crotchety aunt. Am I correct?”

  Not sure how to respond, she went on, “My lord, I don’t know—”

  The earl interrupted her, juggling the parcels he brought up for her as they spoke. “Do you mind if I take these inside?”

  “Uh, please do so, my lord.” Emily pushed open the door and preceded him inside.

  “And I imagine it wouldn’t be a true holiday if you spent it with Lilianne,” the earl said, his lips shaping a knowing half smile. “So…Miss Dancy,” Leathem went on. “Then go ahead. Make your plans. Don’t change them. Take your week with your friend. You’ll be busy enough during the Season.” Striding across the carpet he dropped four or five bundles atop the bed’s coverlet and said, “I’ll leave these here for you.”

  Gavin turned as his gaze roamed the room. His butler assigned Emily this room. He saw he hadn’t given her one of the big bedchambers. But the room was bright, airy, and quite adequate. His suite, at the end of the hallway, was twice as large and had more windows.

  Turning back toward Emily, he asked. “Are you comfortable here, Miss Dancy?”

  “Of course, Lord Leathem. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I didn’t know what accommodations you were used to before you came here.”

  Emily drew in a breath. “Nothing nearly as luxurious as this.” She placed additional purchases on a nearby armchair.

  “Good,” the earl said. “Then it’s settled. I shall accompany Lilianne and her maid to Oxfordshire. Lady Lydia Parcells is my aunt. I hope to persuade her to sponsor Lilianne’s come out. Her presence here should also muzzle any rumors about your being unchaperoned under a bachelor’s roof.” Gavin started to leave. “I leave on Wednesday a week from today. When do you wish to begin your holiday, Miss Dancy?”

  “I’ll leave right after you. I shall write Wilma that I have your permission.”

  Emily’s happy smile dazzled Gavin. Something odd inside him stirred. Her sunny countenance glowed with youth and vitality. Why wouldn’t she? She was young, untouched, and naive, he supposed. A second rank notion invaded his thoughts. An experienced man like him could make her sexual experience rather pleasant. Someone worldly and knowledgeable who knew what women desired, someone who would be gentle with a first-time, innocent partner.

  “I can’t thank you enough for allowing me go off on such short notice, Lord Leathem.”

  Gavin dismissed what he had been thinking as he peered into those crystalline blue eyes. “You’ve done a masterful job bringing Lilianne up to snuff from what I’ve seen so far. I’m well pleased, Miss Dancy.”

  Normally, Leathem didn’t praise his staff. If he was pleased, they knew it and would find a bonus or an increase in compensation on Boxing Day.

  “I shall return to London after a week. I hope you enjoy a pleasant visit with your friend, Miss Dancy. And, of course, I look forward to seeing you again at Fielding House.”

  * * * *

  Two footmen bundled Lilianne, her maid, and their luggage into Gavin Fielding’s elegant traveling coach. The earl led the way outside riding on Pegasus.

  Emily waited in the foyer when another crested carriage pulled by four Cleveland bays, clip-clopped to a halt on Fielding House’s drive a few minutes before noon.

  “Friends are here to pick me up,” Emily said to Gavin’s butler. “Please ask a footman to load my trunk into the Porters’ carriage.”

  “Of course, Miss Dancy. Are you leaving us?”

  “No, no,” she replied, smiling up at the middle-aged butler. “I am merely going on holiday, Mr. Crane. I’ll be back next week.”

  “Ah, well, enjoy your holiday, Miss. We’d be sorry indeed to know you’d left us for good. The staff is quite fond of you.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Crane, I’m glad to hear that.”

  Unfortunately, I’ll be looking for new employment as soon as Lilianne is settled.

  The butler held the front door open, and Emily stepped outside onto the stoop.

  A tall, mustachioed gentleman with bushy sideburns and wearing a top hat jumped down from the fancy carriage. He strode lithely up the front steps and halted in front of Emily. Doffing his hat, he smiled pleasantly. “Miss Dancy? I’m Porter, Wilma’s husband. It’s my great pleasure to meet you. My wife and I are pleased that you will accompany us to the Duke of Carlisle’s party.”

  Emily dipped a brief curtsy. “Thank you, my lord,” she said. “But I am the one who should be most pleased. I have you and Wilma to thank for such a gracious invitation.”

  Harry chuckled, his smile warm, his tone congenial. “Wilma regaled me last evening with some stories about your childhood together, Miss Dancy. I must say I feel as if I know you.”

  Emily saw Wilma sticking a gloved hand out an open window in the carriage and waving urgently for Emily to hurry along. The handsome viscount smiled and offered Emily a bent elbow. “Allow me to assist you into our carriage. Wilma is quite eager to see you again. I daresay, she will bend your ear for the next few hours or so. I know what a chatterbox my wife can be.”

  Emily’s trunk, packed with her new wardrobe, had been rapidly loaded into the vehicle’s large boot.

  Wilma grabbed Emily’s hand and squeezed it when she stepped into the carriage. “I’m so happy to see you again, Emmie!” The viscountess pulled her friend down next to her on the green velvet squabs.

  What good luck bumping into Wilma. Emily had been sorely blue-deviled by the nasty events that occurred on that fateful day. Now she felt a hundred times better. Excitement buzzed through her. She was invited to a fancy house party—one she never dreamt to attend. Hallelujah! It would feel so good to forget about Anthony Kendall and her uncle. Not think about them for at least a week.

  Harry took the seat facing the women when he followed Emily inside. He tapped against the carriage’s roof with a silver-handled cane, signaling the driver and footmen to get moving. Emily leaned back, relaxed against the plush cushions, and listened to her friend’s light chatter.

  The Porters’ well-sprung traveling coach left the drive of Fielding House, turned onto a Mayfair street, and soon rolled out of the city’s bustling environs. Inside, the women talked and giggled like two magpies, Wilma did most of the talking, of course. The viscount simply sat back and smiled having two lovely ladies sharing his company.

  * * * *

  The long drive to the Duke’s castle began between two massive, stone pillars. The four horses trotted briskly up the wide, gravel lane lined by ancient oaks. Built of pale stone, Wyndemere Castle sat on acres of parkland dotted by ornamental hedges and early flowering bushes. A large fountain spewed arcs of sparkling water twenty feet high in the air and splashed to be caught in a circular stone basin. The large park was partitioned off with low-growing hedges much like a maze. Hundreds of rosebushes, their buds not yet open, would soon blossom with colorful petals and heady perfume.

  Emily remembered being awed as a girl gazing at the impressive castle from a distance. She breathed in the scent of newly scythed lawn as a balmy breeze blew through the vehicle’s open windows. It has been ages since she smelled anything so fresh and clean. Her uncle’s horrid abode had offended her eyes, ears, and nose during the months she lived with him.

  “Oh, Wilma,” Emily gushed, “don’t you love th
e smell of the country! And isn’t the Duke’s estate magnificent!” Emily’s blue eyes gleamed, her voice elevated by excitement.

  “Wait until you see the inside,” Wilma responded just as eagerly. “I’m told the castle has over three hundred guest rooms.”

  “Oh my.” Emily giggled. “Then I shall need help finding my way, or I’ll be lost. Do you suppose we should crumble bread crumbs to find our way back to our rooms?”

  Even Harry guffawed at her witticism.

  Emily liked Wilma’s amiable husband the moment they met on the steps of Fielding House. She thought him quite handsome, of course. Tall, fair-haired, smiling, and rather jolly and easy-going. She quickly noted Wilma’s marriage had been a love match. The viscount’s bright blue eyes scarcely left his wife. Obviously, he doted upon her.

  If a man looked at me the way Harry looks at Wilma, I would be gloriously happy, Emily thought. Handsome or plain, titled or not, rich or poor, I’d hang onto him and never let him go.

  Emily no longer gave Anthony Kendall a thought.

  * * * *

  What looked like an army of gold and black liveried servants hurried to greet the arrivals on the broad steps of Wyndemere. Harry had sent a vehicle ahead earlier with Wilma’s lady’s maid, his valet, and their party apparel. One of the duke’s footmen opened the boot and easily threw Emily’s trunk up onto a broad shoulder, whisking it into the castle.

  Meanwhile, Wilma, Emily, and Harry mounted the wide stone stairs leading to the duke and duchess’s ancestral home. Neither peer was there to meet them. There would be a formal reception that evening for a hundred or so invitees, Willy had informed Emily during their drive. A score or more of harried footmen rushed about showing guests to their assigned rooms.

  The castle’s enormous entrance hall led to a center staircase and a landing that branched onto other steps leading to the public rooms. Exquisitely decorated drawing rooms and smaller, intimate salons ran the entire length of a hall in each direction on the second story. A brawny footman led Wilma, Emily, and Harry up a different flight of stairs to guest chambers and along another corridor that appeared to be a block long.