Love in the Bargain: A Sweet Regency Romance (Women of Worth Book 1)

by Kasey Stockton

  “My mother has given me an ultimatum.”

  Rosalynn immediately set her sheet music on her lap and turned toward me on the sofa. “What about?”

  “Marriage.”

  Rosalynn stilled. She appeared to take one deep breath and measure her words. “She cannot force you. It is your basic human right to accept or deny a marriage.”

  “That is not the issue.” I found my nerves beginning to dance. I simply needed to explain it all at once, get it out into the open. And I needed to not fear my friend’s reaction, for, though I acted unsure with my mother, I had already made my decision.

  The challenge then, was breaking the news to Rosalynn and keeping our friendship intact.

  I took a deep breath and let it all out at once. “She has agreed that if I do not have even a single thread of interest in a man by the end of the Season, then she and my father will turn over my dowry and I may do with it whatever I wish.”

  Rosalynn gasped, her hands coming together in front of her. “This is splendid, Elsie. It solves both of our dilemmas!”

  “I have not explained it all to you, yet.”

  “Go on, then,” she said. Her excitement was evident, her eyes glittering, lips grinning.

  “I have to put in every effort this Season.” I numbered off on my fingers, “I must accept every dance, caller, carriage ride, walk in the park, and escort to the museums and gardens. And I must do so pleasantly, without any nefarious motives.”

  She nodded in understanding. “You cannot be disagreeable in the hopes that men will naturally leave you be.”

  “Precisely.”

  “But that is not so bad.” She shrugged, offering a consoling smile. “When you consider the length of the Season, it is only a few months that you must agree to court and be courted and then freedom is yours. And you are not even of age! How did you find yourself so fortunate?”

  “That is not all,” I continued hesitantly. Rosalynn was giving me a look as though she could not fathom what might make this plan distasteful. I knew how she felt, but I could see that she was uncomprehending. I was worried that her ideals would make her unbending as well.

  “She brought up our Sisterhood of Deserving Females pact,” I said carefully.

  The words sat heavily in the room and Rosalynn’s demeanor turned wary.

  I clasped my fingers in my lap and continued. “I can only enter into the agreement on the condition that I admit and accept that while I have made a pact with you and Freya, I will also consider the prospect that we were wrong to do so and that I might open my mind to the possibilities.”

  “What possibilities?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “Love?”

  Rosalynn’s eyes grew wide. “Your mother said this?”

  “Not in those particular words, but yes.” She had said I needed to open my mind and my heart. What else could she have meant?

  She scoffed. “I thought my mother’s threat to pull my inheritance if I did not marry was severe. But my mother never required me to fall in love.”

  “I’m not required to fall in love, only to admit that it is possible.”

  “For what purpose? Why is love even something to consider? It is not as though your parents...”

  I glanced away. She did not need to finish her sentence, I made no secret of my parent’s ill-suited marriage. They tolerated one another well enough, but theirs’ was an arranged marriage and they had never pretended otherwise.

  “She cannot force you to believe anything,” Rosalynn said firmly.

  “Of course not, but I cannot in good conscience agree to this plan unless I am willing to consider the option that we were wrong. We have asked our mothers to consider for years that we are solid in our belief that we are intelligent women of worth—that we do not need a man to lead and govern us. Is this not her way of doing the same thing in reverse?”

  “But we aren’t wrong,” Rosalynn said. “The moment we marry we give up every single paltry right we have. Anything we own instantly becomes the property of our husband. We must obey our husbands to the degree that, essentially, we become their property. If we stay unwed, we retain what little rights we have!” She shook her head, her eyes glowing with intensity. “But that is not the point, Elsie. Men are not inherently bad. The point is that we also retain our dignity, and the power to govern ourselves. We maintain our independence.”

  “I know all of this, Rosie,” I said gently. “I knew what I was agreeing to when we made that pact as knobby little girls. And this is a way for me to find peace in it. If I agree to her demands, then I satisfy my mother’s wishes, as well as my own. I’ll be able to come out the other side of this with my own independence. Not a house I won’t inherit until my healthy father dies, in who knows how many years, but money to live off of now.”

  “Then do it,” she said simply.

  “I think I might.”

  We looked at one another as a small chasm grew between us. I wanted her to understand. But by making this agreement, I was essentially breaking our pact.

  “And when you come out the other end of this, happily unwed and with a large income, we can find a lovely little cottage somewhere and plant a beautiful garden full of tomatoes and roses and live peacefully.”

  “That sounds lovely.” I smiled. She was attempting to fill the gap I put between us. I loved her for it.

  “This is all for the best, perhaps.” Rosalynn sighed. “Instead of going through Season after Season hoping our parents finally come to terms with our ideals, we’ll only have to suffer through once.”

  “Precisely. Now, how do we explain this to Freya?”

  She tilted her face away from me and I knew she was thinking, her eyes squinting fractionally. “Perhaps we keep it to the bare bones of the agreement. Otherwise, we may complicate things too much. Freya is not resilient. The stipulation that you cannot say no may distress her.”

  “I cannot like deceiving her, though.” It was true that Freya might not understand, but it should be up to her to determine her own feelings on the matter. “Care to play a duet?”

  Rosalynn grinned. She held up the sheet music she had been holding in her lap ever since I sat on her sofa. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Four

  Mother’s victorious smile was bound to send me over the edge, I just knew it. The carriage rocked us slowly toward the Gibsons’ ball, and I caught her grin periodically with light from lanterns swinging outside our window. I tensed further each time.

  Mounting the steps to the ballroom, she leaned in and whispered, “You may not decline a single dance.”

  I could have laughed. Did she really think I would find enough partners to dance every dance at my first ball? I knew no one beyond Mr. Fenway and Rosalynn’s brother, Lord Cameron. Though I was unsure if I could even claim an acquaintance with Lord Cameron in the general public, I had only been around him a handful of times in the quiet of his own home.

  “I am aware of the conditions of our agreement,” I reminded her. Father walked behind us and we stood in line to greet our hosts. Flickering candlelight from enormous chandeliers spread from the ballroom and a country dance was beginning. Couples lined up down the center of the room, a border of spectators eyeing the dancers and discussing them from behind their fans.

  Rosalynn stood on the other side of the room beside her brother. Their dark heads were bent together and their resemblance was strong.

  Mother grasped my arm when I turned to go. “You will remain by my side, Elspeth,” she said through gritted teeth. “I have introductions to make.”

  Suspicion slithered down my spine. It mounted and grew as Mother led me toward a well-dressed man in a vivid purple waistcoat and striped bottle green jacket. A watch chain dangled from his pocket and he looked down his sloping nose at my simple white ball gown with rosettes embroidered along the neck and hemline.

  “Mrs. Cox, you look absolutely dazzling this evening,” he drawled.

  “Oh, Lord Fischer,” Mother
simpered. I wanted to be sick. I glanced over my shoulder, but Father was left behind, speaking with other men. He wasn’t even bothered by Mother’s fingers grasping Lord Fischer’s coat.

  The dandy seemed to mind, however. His pointed look was enough to remove her pudgy claws.

  Awkwardly, Mother transferred her grip from his arm to mine. “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Miss Elspeth Cox.”

  I curtseyed. His shoes were even more flashy than the waistcoat. I was unaware shoes could be purchased in a golden yellow leather.

  “Pleased, I’m sure.”

  “Elsie has come to London for her first Season,” Mother said. “And I was only telling her this morning how honorable and valiant the men of the drawing rooms are.”

  A flush spread over my cheeks. She was begging him for a dance—and being dishonest about it besides.

  “I hope you are proved correct, ma’am,” he said obediently, turning to me. “May I take the next dance, Miss Cox?”

  Bowing my head to hide my shame, I nodded, playing the bashful debutante in the hopes that he would escape until our set began. Relief momentarily visited but was quickly chased away by the arrival of another young man that Mother chose to solicit for a dance.

  Thirty minutes later, I had never been more mortified in my entire life. My schedule was full except for the two waltzes that mother had dashed away—you don’t want to be seen as fast, Elsie—and I was standing opposite Lord Fischer while we waited for the minuet to begin. His eyelids drooped, slowly running up and down my person. Clearly, he was unimpressed.

  I tried to see myself through his lens. My frilly white gown and intricately designed hair made me appear overly done up. I looked like every other marriage-hungry debutante in the room—nothing set me apart. I suppose I would be unimpressed too.

  Not that I had been trying to impress him, or any man. But it was my first foray into London Society, and I wanted to make something of a good impression on the general population. Wasn’t that all anyone wanted at the base of their motives? To be accepted, if not esteemed?

  I could still want to be held in good opinion without wanting a husband.

  Lord Fischer and I came together for small spurts of time, but the majority of the dance was spent moving down the line or to another partner and back. When the set ended, I was returned to Mother’s side momentarily before my next partner arrived to whisk me away again.

  It was more than an hour before I earned a break by way of a waltz and I took the opportunity to search out Rosalynn and Freya. I found them, their heads bent together, near the refreshments. I took hold of each of their arms and they glanced up in unison.

  “Deliver me from this wretched fate.”

  “Whatever is going on?” Freya asked, cupping my shoulder. “You have not sat out a single dance.”

  My shoulders drooped with exhaustion. This was only my first ball of a Season that would last three more months. How ever was I going to endure?

  Rosalynn stepped in. “Mrs. Cox made her a deal. If she completes the Season without interest in a man then she can take her dowry now and live independently.”

  Freya’s eyes could not have possibly grown wider than they did at that moment. “But you are only eighteen!”

  I released their arms and leaned back against the wall. “I know. Many women don’t find husbands until their second or third Season. I am choosing not to analyze this gift too closely and appreciate it as it is.”

  “You haven’t a partner now, though?”

  “I am not allowed to waltz,” I explained. “The only rule tonight I agree with.”

  Freya’s gaze followed the dancers floating in time with the smooth music. “Neither am I,” she said wistfully.

  Rosalynn’s posture straightened. She gazed at Freya’s uncomprehending face. “You want to though, don’t you?”

  Instantly Freya stood tall and turned away from the dance floor. “Of course not. I was only admiring the way the gowns moved along the floor.”

  Rosalynn’s eyebrow raised in judgment. She looked stunning, her cheeks lightly glowing and her dark hair curled and plaited in a regal design. Freya’s bright red hair was similarly arranged, but she had the unfortunate skin tone that seemed to wash out against a canvas of white. Even Mrs. Hurst’s expert advice could do nothing for Freya’s bleached face.

  “I must return to my mother.” I sighed, sorry for myself. “Mr. Fenway is next. I vow I will lay abed all morning tomorrow and still my feet are bound to ache.”

  “No!” Rosalynn shot her arm out and stopped me. “We must meet tomorrow and reconsider your dilemma.”

  “I have to go on calls with my Mama,” Freya said apologetically.

  “Come to my house then,” Rosalynn said. “Add Lady Clifton to your list of calls to make. She arrived this morning with the rest of The Tyrants.”

  “Why did they not come to the ball this evening?” I asked.

  “Tarquin and Geoff went to their club. Mother needed to rest from the journey. I have no idea what my father is up to.”

  “Your house it is,” I agreed. “Now wish me luck.”

  Mr. Fenway found me minutes later and led me into a minuet. His sweaty palms and leering smile gave me a shiver of disgust.

  “Your first ball is turning into quite the success.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I did not guess when we came to dine that I was getting a leg up from the rest of the ton.”

  His cat-like grin was unnerving. His fingers pressed into my flesh and instinct told me to turn and run. I glanced up and caught Mother’s smug smirk, my mind racing back to the conversation that morning and the very binding terms of our agreement.

  I was caught; I could not flee the dance floor. Neither could I give this man any reason to think I was uninterested in his verbal advances.

  Alarm crept on like a slow-moving wave, engulfing me all at once in utter dread. For the first time, the unfavorable possibilities of my agreement presented themselves. By consistently saying ‘yes,’ not only would I be making my interest known to any man that requested it, but I would not be able to put them off, even when I was repulsed.

  Mr. Fenway’s predatory gaze stuck to me like honey, making my skin crawl.

  What had I gotten myself into?

  Chapter Five

  A broken leg. That would do it. A broken leg would inhibit dancing, rides to the park, and comfortable at-home visits. It would void the agreement and give me a full year to come up with an alternative.

  I sat at my vanity table and brushed my hair, focusing intently on my determined brow in the reflection. The morning light came through the window and rested on my arms, warming them thoroughly.

  Only, how was I going to execute the plan to break my leg? Such an accident could potentially inhibit my walking in some way for the remainder of my life. That certainly wasn’t ideal.

  No, a broken leg was out. I would simply need to come up with something different.

  Illness?

  But how would I obtain an illness short of visiting a hospital? Even then, there was no guarantee I would contract a safe illness and not some terminal disease.

  That was it. I had no other choice. I simply had to run off to the continent with a band of gypsies.

  Setting the hairbrush down with a thump I dropped my head in my hands and groaned.

  Molly finished putting away my night clothes and came up behind me to fix my hair. I looked at her through the mirror. Would it be feasible to escape through the servants’ entrance? Perhaps I could find a position as a maid or governess in a well respected London home. Eventually I might save enough money to live contentedly for the rest of my life.

  I looked at Molly, her fingers deftly weaving my hair into something presentable. That wouldn’t do either. If it were possible to save enough to retire and live comfortably on a service job, there wouldn’t be anyone left in service. Not to mention the difficulty of obtaining a job without a single reference to my name.

&n
bsp; The answer was before me, I merely did not want to accept it. Mother had offered me the money I needed to set up comfortably in a cottage somewhere in a small country town or an apartment here in London. I only needed to last the Season.

  I stifled another groan. But the Season was going to be so much work! I had not anticipated before agreeing to the bargain just how tiring a ball could be, nor how many men would request to call on me afterward.

  Glancing at the clock, I calculated how much time I had to get out of the house before Mother awoke. It was my only shot of getting to Rosalynn’s before she could waylay me. Last night I told each man who asked to call that I would be delighted to receive them. I had done my part.

  No one mentioned I had to remain home at all times on the chance that they would indeed call.

  I glanced at Molly in the mirror. “I am running behind. Will you get my bonnet and tell Billington that I need the carriage straight away?”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “Good.” I turned on my seat and looked my maid square in the face. “And Molly, I needn’t say that I am in quite the hurry to get away...undetected, right?”

  “Right, miss.”

  Nodding once in dismissal, I turned back to the vanity and looked at my ordinary face. If Mother had not taken the initiative to beg for dance after dance, how would my first ball have turned out? I might have been able to sit aside and gossip with my friends, enjoying the dances like they had.

  I needed to get to Rosalynn’s home fast. She was a balancing voice of reason and would do nothing but remind me that I had made the right choice. The only choice, in this situation.

  “YOU SIMPLY MUST GET out of the bargain. There’s nothing else for it.”

  Rosalynn slammed the newspaper on the table in front of her sofa and leaned back against the cushions.

  “But I cannot,” I wailed. “I have no other course of action available to me!”