An Earl's Wager: Regency Romance (Gentlemen and Brides)

by Joyce Alec

  “No,” Margaret said again, her tone a little calmer. “I will choose whom I want to marry, and that is if I ever want to marry.”

  Before the duchess could say anything else, Margaret turned and made her way up the stairs to her room.

  She knew exactly what would happen next, and she was correct. First her mother sent her personal maid up to her door to attempt to coax her back downstairs, gently and kindly. Margaret completely ignored her.

  Then she knew that they would send the butler upstairs, which they did, and still she paid no attention to the persistent knocks at the door. She did not even find them hard to ignore.

  It had been after dark when her father came up to her room and threatened to break the door down unless she opened it up.

  Reluctantly, she let him in.

  “Where is Lord Pond?” she asked before he had even stepped into the room.

  Her father sighed heavily. “Gone home. It was apparent that you had no interest, and to be honest, it did not take much convincing to get him to leave.”

  He looked at her and smiled sadly. “I am sorry,” he said simply. “I do think that perhaps this was a poor decision on my part. I had not met the man in person, and his credentials seemed to be a good fit for you and…”

  She was glaring at him, though she felt a little better knowing that her father seemed to understand.

  I have always been his favorite, she thought to herself.

  “And Mother?” Margaret asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Perhaps a little upset,” he began.

  Margaret raised her eyebrow.

  “All right, maybe a little more than upset. But do not worry. I will not allow her to stew for too long.”

  Margaret huffed.

  “I do not know what you want, Margaret,” he said calmly. “I do not know what would make you happy.”

  Margaret looked up at him. “I will know it when I see it, Father. Not a moment earlier.”

  “If you insist,” he said, and he sighed. “Well, I do not think we will solve that puzzle this evening. I shall leave you to rest.”

  Margaret nodded.

  “And, my darling?” her father said, his hand on the doorknob.

  “Yes?” she asked, her arms still crossed in front of her. She did not want him to see that she had totally dropped her guard. She would not have won the argument if she did.

  “Do not forget to open your eyes and truly see the world for what it is, all right?”

  His words stayed with her even when she laid her head down to sleep a little while later.

  2

  She could not understand why her parents were still surprised when she rose early the following Monday to leave for the orphanage. Her mother was so unhappy at the reminder that she had turned down a possible husband for an afternoon with children that she was short and distant as they passed each other in the hall.

  Margaret had eaten in the kitchen before the first light of dawn, and she could not be bothered with her mother’s dislike as she went to put on her bonnet and gloves.

  “What are all of those for?”

  She looked up from lacing up her boot to look at her father, who had stepped into the foyer. She quickly looked at his face and looked for any of her mother’s wrath. When she did not see any, she smiled at him.

  “More dresses for the girls,” she replied. She had a satchel stuffed to the brim with several dresses she had been working on since her last time at the orphanage, and while they were not perfect, she was more than pleased with them, and she hoped that the children would be as well.

  The duke nodded, and glancing over his shoulder, stepped toward her. “Well, I for one am pleased that you have taken up helping children in need as your favorite hobby. Your mother may be unhappy because of Lord Pond, but I think that you are doing a very good thing.”

  Margaret nodded her head. “I adore the children.”

  “And that is admirable. I know your brother, Robert, is pleased with your volunteer work. He says that you are doing a great work for the Kingdom.”

  Margaret smiled at the mention of her brother. “Well, I never think of it as work.”

  “That is how it should be,” the duke continued, running his hand over his mustache. “Serving the Lord should not feel like work.”

  Her father helped Margaret put the satchel into the carriage as she climbed in.

  “Have a wonderful time, my dear,” he said, his hand resting on the door.

  “I shall indeed,” she replied.

  The ride to the orphanage always felt much shorter than how it felt when she was going home. The anticipation of seeing the children made it easy to spend the time on the drive thinking of all of the things she had planned, while on the trip home, she found herself wishing that she was back with the children.

  Mrs. Franklin greeted her at the door, her white dress covered with her linen apron as it always was. She had always had a heart for children, and was instrumental in raising the funds to build the orphanage. She was thrilled when Margaret showed an interest in helping her with the orphans.

  “Oh, there you are, Lady Margaret,” the woman said, her face bright with happiness. The two of them embraced, and Mrs. Franklin called for one of the children to help Margaret with her satchel.

  “Come in, come in,” Mrs. Franklin said, her arm around Margaret’s shoulders, drawing her into the long hall that ran all the way to the back of the building. It was a lovely entrance, with wide planked floors and white walls that stretched tall to the cross beamed ceiling overhead. There were paintings hung all along the walls of various scenes of children playing, and tables beneath them with vases full of beautiful summer wildflowers. The whole hall was lined with doors, and she could hear squeals of delight and the thud of footsteps as children ran down the halls in the upper floors.

  Mrs. Franklin and Margaret gave each other amused, knowing glances as they stepped into a sitting room halfway down the hall.

  Margaret loved this room the most, even though she had not seen every other room in the orphanage. The whole northern side of the room was filled with windows, which allowed all the morning sunlight in without the direct beams. Outside the wide, open yard where the children could play was visible, along with the forests and hills behind it. A tall wooden fence surrounded a garden where the children learned to grow herbs and flowers of various uses, and there was a tall tree house nestled into a tree an acre or so away.

  The walls in the sitting room were also white, but there were large mirrors that reflected that wonderful sunlight back into the room. There were three distinct sitting areas; one around the fireplace on the eastern side of the room, another beside some book cases along the wall beside the door, and the third in the middle of the room with a wonderful view of the backyard.

  Mrs. Franklin gestured to the sitting area that overlooked the yard, and Margaret sat on the sofa. A low table in front of her held a full tea set with a steaming pot of tea, a little bowl with sugar cubes, and a tiny carafe of cream. A beautiful amber plate sat beside it with some sugared cakes.

  “Are you expecting guests?” Margaret asked, gesturing to the tea. “It looks lovely.”

  Mrs. Franklin was almost humming with excitement. She was trying her very best to conceal her elation from Margaret, but eventually she just beamed at her.

  “Margaret, I have a very special request for you.”

  Margaret felt her heart flutter. “Oh?”

  Mrs. Franklin took Margaret’s hand and patted the back of it affectionately.

  “You have been a wonderful help to these children, especially the girls. It is obvious to all of us that you truly care about them, and they all absolutely adore you.”

  Margaret smiled as she thought of all the girls she had met and gotten to know.

  “You encourage them and have given them a confidence that I do not think they would have found elsewhere.” She paused, and she laughed at something that was missed by Margaret.

 
; “The board of directors and I have spoken, and at my request, we would like to offer you a seat on the board of the orphanage.”

  Margaret blinked at Mrs. Franklin, but it was obvious that what she had offered her was a grand opportunity. The excitement on the woman’s face was bright, and she waited expectantly for Margaret's answer.

  “I had no idea that the orphanage had a board of any sort,” Margaret replied.

  “Oh, yes,” Mrs. Franklin said, nodding her head happily. “Yes, and a very prestigious one at that. Your uncle recommended our head of the board before he was voted to be such.”

  “Did he now?” Margaret asked.

  She still was unsure what a board of directors did, but she did not wish to appear ignorant. “I see,” she continued. “What duties will be bestowed upon me if I accept?”

  “Well, you will not have to worry about it taking up too much of your time, of course, my lady,” she said.

  “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant!” Margaret replied. “No, I am quite excited, I just wonder what sort of things I can look forward to.”

  Mrs. Franklin seemed to relax. “Oh, of course! Yes, we would not want you to feel pressured or anything of the sort. We know that you must be very busy.”

  She straightened her dress and reached for the tea pot and began pouring the hot, steaming tea into two of the cups on the tray. The aroma filled the air and made Margaret smile.

  “Some of the most important things that the board is in charge of is arranging fundraising events and securing annual subscriptions to help pay for the orphanage.”

  “This sounds wonderful,” Margaret beamed. And she meant it.

  Mrs. Franklin clasped her hands together in excitement. “It is, is it not?” She offered Margaret one of the tea cups. “Cream or sugar?”

  “Only sugar, please.”

  “One lump or two?”

  “Two,” Margaret answered.

  Mrs. Franklin smiled. “That is how my daughter likes it as well.”

  The two women looked contentedly out of the window in front of them into the backyard. Some of the kids had gone out to play and were running freely and happily, their arms outstretched in front of themselves to tag one another.

  Margaret felt moved in her heart. “I truly believe the orphanage provides provisions that are needed by so many. I cannot imagine being a child without parents and without means. Some of these children’s stories are so heartbreaking.”

  Mrs. Franklin nodded. “Yes, which is why I am delighted that you will take an active role in helping the orphanage thrive.”

  “I wish that I was married…” Margaret drifted off. She noticed a blonde girl run from a boy with dark hair, and she was immediately reminded of her sister Jane and brother John. “Then I would take them all home with me.”

  “Am I correct in assuming that you are accepting your offer to join the board?”

  Margaret looked back at her. “Of course! I look forward to helping serve these children.”

  “Splendid news!” Mrs. Franklin said. “Absolutely splendid.”

  Margaret was still watching the kids outside.

  “Mrs. Franklin, how are you raising the money for the orphanage?”

  Mrs. Franklin also looked back out the window. “Well, as I said, we will have fundraisers during the year. We also have donors who provide the money that we need.”

  “Is my father among those?” she asked.

  Mrs. Franklin shook her head. “No, I do not think so, though I know your uncle has approached him about it. However, Lord Mark, Lady Willows, Lord Kirk, your uncle, of course, and Lord Barkley have all helped immensely.”

  “Lord Barkley?”

  Mrs. Franklin nodded her head. “Do you know the man?”

  Margaret furrowed her brow and scratched her cheek with a thin finger. “I am not sure. His name sounds familiar. Perhaps he knows one of my brothers?” Margaret shrugged her shoulders. “No matter, please continue.”

  “Well, these donors, along with our fundraisers, keep the orphanage running, and we are truly grateful for them.”

  The two women continued their conversation for a time, and then Mrs. Franklin went to fetch the girls who wanted to take Margaret’s sewing class, as she had decided to call it. She was pleased when all of them entered the room together.

  They all lit up when they saw her.

  There was little Ellie, who was no older than seven, and her sister, Abigail, who was nine. Then there was Mary, and she was just ten. Then there were the twins, Georgianna and Evette, who were eleven, Henrietta who was twelve, and the oldest, Nancy, was almost fifteen.

  Margaret’s heart hurt when she looked at the eldest girl, who was close to her own age. She worried about Nancy’s future and her prospects of marrying. Not for the first time, she considered pleading with her parents on Nancy’s behalf.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” Margaret said, getting to her feet and curtsying to them all.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Margaret,” they all replied, and all curtsied in return. The girls all sat down in front of her as she pulled open her satchel, flourishing the dresses as she drew them out of the bag one by one.

  She was pleased when she saw the young girls’ eyes sparkle with delight as they noticed all of the lovely colors and patterns, far more elegant than the simple grey or green dresses than they wore.

  “Today I hope to teach you about how to add lace to the sleeves of your dress, as well as how to match ribbons and bows to the hems.”

  Her allotted hour of time passed, and before she knew it, she gave each girl a hug as they left the room, clutching the dresses that she had brought for them to work on, and eventually to have for their very own.

  “Thank you so very much for teaching us.”

  Margaret looked into dark green eyes of Nancy, with her gorgeous brown hair tied in a long plait down her back.

  She is pretty enough that she could make a prince fall in love with her.

  Margaret reached out to brush a stray piece of hair from her cheeks and cupped her hand there. She smiled at the girl.

  “It is my absolute pleasure to come here and be with you young ladies.”

  Nancy smiled as Margaret took her hand away, and Margaret got the feeling that she meant to say more.

  “Yes?” Margaret asked, pulling her satchel over her shoulder. It was almost empty now, and looked more like a cloak over her shoulder than a bag.

  “I …” she began.

  Margaret saw her eyes fill with tears.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Margaret said, and she pulled the girl into a tight embrace.

  She was not sure what had upset her so, but she held her anyways as she cried. It did not last more than a minute or so, but when she pulled away, her face was red with tears.

  “Here,” Margaret said, handing her one of her silken handkerchiefs from her bag.

  “No, I cannot accept another thing from you,” Nancy said, attempting to take a step back.

  “I insist,” Margaret said.

  Nancy hesitated, and then slowly took the handkerchief.

  “Thank you,” she said in a very small voice.

  Margaret smiled gently at her. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so,” Nancy said. “Thank you.”

  “There you are, Nancy.”

  Mrs. Franklin had returned, and when she saw Nancy, she comforted her like a mother hen. “Now, now, my dear. Let us go and have a chat about what is bothering you. Let us not bother Lady Margaret.”

  Before Margaret could say anything else, Nancy was escorted from the room, insisting over and over again that she was quite all right, and that she just was so grateful to Lady Margaret.

  Margaret sighed and slowly made her way from the building.

  The sun was high in the sky outside, and the long path in front of the church was empty apart from one long man strolling up the path. His dark-haired head was looking down, but she could see a short-trimmed beard, much like her brother John’s, along th
e side of his wide jaw. He wore a black jacket, black slacks, and a black hat was tucked underneath his arm.

  She did not think much of him, and began down the path.

  Assuming that he was aware that she, too, was walking down the path, she looked out into the flower gardens on the side of the path. She was pleased to see that the apples growing on the tree as she stared off, not paying attention to what was in front of her. She shuttered and nearly fell over as she collided with something solid.

  “Oh, my, I—”

  She reeled, and turned to look to see the man who was sharing the path with her holding his hands out to her as if afraid that she still might tumble to the ground.

  Now that he was looking at her, she could see that his eyes were almost as dark as his hair, and he had wide, thick eyebrows. He had to have been as old as John, perhaps older, and yet there was an air of youth about him still.

  “My apologies, my lady,” he said, and he bowed his head.

  “It is quite all right,” she responded, but she turned and began to walk back up the path.

  She did not hear him begin to walk yet, and she knew that he must have been watching her as she walked away.

  There was no way that she was going to apologize for something that was clearly not her fault. He was not looking where he was going! He ran into her, surely. As she thought about the incident, her anger grew.

  Did he not even notice me? Did he not see me walking?

  Her feelings were irrational, as it was merely an accident, but it seemed she was constantly being overlooked. Margaret’s mother appeared to feel the same way, which is why she tried to get her to marry that awful man. Margaret was tired of people treating her as if she did not exist, or was not worthy, because she did not possess the same type of beauty as her sisters.

  She came around the corner at the gate toward the street where the carriage was waiting for her, and she felt a small pang of guilt.

  She also was not paying attention, she knew. She had at least been aware that someone else was walking along the path, and she assumed that he had been so entirely lost in his own thoughts that he had, in fact, not known that she had existed at all.