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

by Kasey Stockton

  Rosalynn spun, a fierce look in her eyes. “What did you say?”

  I froze at the indignation in her tone. Freya looked dumbfounded but was not given a chance to answer when Rosalynn continued, her brows pulled together in bewildered outrage, the fire in her eyes blazing. “You spoke of marriage as if it were an inevitability. And you”—she turned on me—“are not shocked by it. Has the bargain with your parents truly desensitized you to the issues we face as women in this imbalanced world? Have you both sincerely let go of the pact we made as the Sisterhood of Deserving Females?”

  My mouth hung slack. Rosalynn’s gaze darted between Freya and me before turning back toward the window. Her chest heaved with indignation and I sought the words to soothe her, while also speaking the truth.

  “Your silence is answer enough,” she spat.

  “Rosalynn, wait,” Freya said, her hand reaching for Rosalynn’s as she passed us. “It isn’t like that!”

  Turning at the door, Rosalynn sucked in a quiet breath, stemming the flow of tears which were trying to burst forth, “Am I the only one capable of staying strong? I thought I knew you better than this.”

  Silence hung heavy at her exit, and regret that I had not spoken right away swallowed me whole. I still did not know why I had said nothing. Freya sat unmoving on the floor, her hand absently petting Coco while her gaze leveled off in the distance. I allowed her the silence and privacy she evidently needed, waiting for her to come to her own conclusions. Part of me hoped the explanation she had would suffice for me as well.

  It felt like hours but was likely only minutes before Freya came to. She stood clumsily, wiping her hands together and then down the front of her gown.

  “I must be getting home,” she said quietly.

  Concern filtered through my gut. “Freya,” I said softly. “Do not let her words offend you so. You have your own life to live, and you must feel the ability to do so freely without the judgments of others. We were children when we made the pact. You could not have known then how you would feel now, and it is not for Rosalynn to determine your future.” I stepped forward and picked up her hand, squeezing her fingers lightly. She had yet to make eye contact with me and my heart constricted, worried for her. “Is that not the basis of our whole pact: that we may determine for ourselves what we want from life?”

  Nodding absently, Freya slipped her hand from mine. “I shall see you at your aunt’s soiree. Good day, Elsie.”

  I watched her walk from my room, feeling as forlorn as Coco looked. There had been a shift in my world in the past ten minutes. I did not know exactly how it was going to present itself in the form of my relationships with my friends, but I knew it would never be quite the same again. Words had been said which could not be called back, and things were left silent that could have filled the chasm that grew between us. Grief exhausted my body and I slumped onto the floor, faintly aware of Coco’s nose pressing into my side.

  The one thing—the Sisterhood of Deserving Females—which drew us together and created a solid bond of friendship and support, was also the thing that was tearing us apart. I could only hope the damage was repairable.

  I stepped to my window and watched Freya depart, her maid following close behind her. She shuffled down the street with her head bowed and her shoulders slumped like an errant child returning from a scolding.

  Pivoting away from the window I leaned against the wall, sliding down until my gown gathered around my knees and my head rested against the armchair beside me. Coco trotted over to me, nudging my elbow with her wet nose until I lifted my arm and took her onto my lap.

  “You do not judge me, do you Coco?” I said, recalling Rosalynn’s sharp eyes. “You love me unconditionally. I shall never be so fortunate to find another like you, shall I?”

  Her beady eyes looked up, the confusion on her face reminding me that I was speaking to a dog.

  “Perhaps I could get another dog and be surrounded by unconditional love.”

  She stood as though affronted by the concept that her love was not enough for me and crossed to the door, scratching at it with her paw.

  “Have I offended you? Oh, never mind. Come, you little rascal, and let me take you outside.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “We shall have to get new gowns made, tomorrow at the very latest.” Mother was seated on the green brocade armchair, a stool lifting her feet and a fan in her hand cooling her face. Her nerves had not yet caught up to her body in terms of recovery, though she was going to rally enough to accompany me to Aunt Georgina’s card party that evening.

  She glanced longingly at the tea tray, prompting me to offer, “Would you like some tea, Mother?”

  “Oh, I suppose so,” she said weakly. Evidently, she was planning to milk this illness as long as she was able.

  Father entered the room while I poured cups of tea. “Would you like some tea?” I asked him.

  “No.”

  I glanced up sharply, the severity of his tone making my back set up. Instinctively, I pulled inward, guarding myself against his impending anger.

  His glare pierced me, clocking my every move. “I’ve been informed that you have been keeping a dog under my roof for days without my knowledge or consent. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  I tried to make myself small. It was the best way I knew to cater to his anger. He would be magistrate, and though he asked if I’d like to defend myself, we both knew he did not want or appreciate justifications.

  “I am sorry, Father. I should have asked you first.”

  His face turned red in irritation. He sputtered, spit flying from his lips. He coldly said, “You will dispose of it immediately. I will not have a dirty stray in my house.”

  “Yes, Father.” I lowered my face, tears born of frustration streaming down my cheeks. I waited for the receding footsteps to sound before I finished preparing my mother’s tea, leaving my cup unattended. I had lost my appetite.

  “We will leave before noon tomorrow so as not to wait in any monstrous lines,” Mother said, accepting my cup. I looked her in the eye, pleading with my gaze for her to say something. Anything would do. I only wanted to know that it bothered her, how he had to control everything. He hadn’t even known Coco was there, so how was her presence in my room negatively affecting the household?

  “We can take the dog out with us when we go,” she said, shocking me. Yet still refusing to meet my eyes. “I think there ought to be a place we can leave it when we run our errands.”

  Was this her way of speaking up? She was giving me an extra day. Father had said “immediately” when he ordered Coco’s eviction. Mother was now saying that tomorrow would be fine. I could have kissed her in gratitude. I decided not to push my luck and nodded instead, worried my voice would reveal my emotion.

  Pulling out my handkerchief, I dabbed at my eyes, settling back onto the sofa and drawing the needlework bird I had been working on into my lap. I sat quietly and stitched, for once unconcerned with the boring repetition.

  After enough time had passed in silent companionship, it was time to prepare for Aunt Georgina’s card party. Mother had not been surprised by my mentioning it as she had already received an invitation. It appeared that once our presence was made known, Aunt Georgina invited us to all of her social gatherings. Why we had never before gone to them, and, subsequently, why Aunt Georgina had been so shocked to see us arrive at the ball—was solely on Mother’s shoulders. Though I could not imagine why she would not want to attend. Aunt Georgina was wonderful.

  Billington stopped me in the hall, a brown paper wrapped parcel in his hands. “This arrived for you, Miss Elsie.”

  Surprised, I accepted the small package from his hands and took it up to my bedchamber to open while Molly readied my clothes for the evening. Untying the twine, I slid it from the parcel. Unfolding the thick, brown paper, my eye caught on a thin, well cut strap of leather. A white card fluttered to the floor and I bent down to retrieve it, reading the simple note within.


  Perhaps this will save a few squirrels.

  -C

  Lord Cameron had gifted me a leash for Coco. I was unsure whether this was kind or obnoxious. I stowed it with Coco’s other things, tucking the note into my vanity drawer, decidedly not considering the implications of the gift. Lord Cameron saw a need, and he had simply done what any practical man would do: filled the need.

  I put on my white gown with lace capped sleeves and coral ribbon lining under the bust, the long silk skirt flowing down with coral rosettes dotting the hemline and a sheer overlay shot through with golden thread. It was perhaps my most flattering silhouette, which was explanation enough of why I had postponed wearing it. With the wretched newspaper and Mother’s bargain, I tried not to draw attention to myself whenever possible.

  Molly worked my hair into ringlets with the hot curling tongs, gathering them on my head and weaving through a white ribbon that set off my honey-colored hair. Opening the drawer of my vanity, I pulled out the necklace Aunt Georgina had given me, handing it to Molly to clasp around my neck.

  My reflection looked more dignified than I felt, and I hoped the illusion would last all evening. There were many questions in my life and fewer solid truths at the present. Confidence in my appearance was one way I was able to face society with a semblance of bravery.

  “Father has commanded that Coco must be sent away,” I said at last, fiddling with my gloves rather than meet Molly’s eye. “I have until tomorrow, but she must be gone before noon. This will be our last night with her.”

  I hazarded a glance and winced at Molly’s pain. I had been correct. She had also formed a connection with the pup.

  “Yes, miss.”

  “I am going to do my best to place her in a good home. I refuse to put her back on the street where we found her.”

  “I wouldn’t imagine anything else,” Molly said, surprising me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned toward Coco, her sad eyes nearly undoing me.

  “Be good, you,” I said, sniffling discreetly. Then I turned and fled.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Regarding my bargain, I found myself in even deeper trouble at a night of card games than I ever had before at any ball. The requests to partner in a game of whist were endless and I was the fortunate lady who said yes to every single one.

  Aunt Georgina was in her element, floating from table to table or holding court on the sofa near the refreshment table. When I first arrived and greeted her, she noticed my necklace right away and a suspicious sheen glazed her eye. We shared a brief hug and I promised to introduce my friends to her the moment they arrived.

  Which, presently, was impossible.

  I had played four rounds of whist with four different partners, was currently in a game partnering Mr. Fenway, with his obnoxiously flirtatious glances, and had Lord McGregor lined up next. Lord McGregor was the final man on my list for the time being. Rosalynn had yet to arrive, but Freya was busy making rounds with her mother. Aunt Georgina did not seem to be forlornly awaiting my introductions, however, so I tried to remain calm.

  “Do you have a love for cards, Miss Cox?”

  I glanced to my right, where Cecily sat daintily, her partner, Lord McGregor, focusing on playing his turn.

  “I find it entertaining.”

  She innocently tilted her head. “Though not, perhaps, with much time to devote to the craft?”

  I connected the dots slower than I was proud of. She was trying to tactfully say I was horrible at cards. Well, when distracted like I unfortunately had been that evening, it was only natural I was losing so terribly.

  We continued to play, Mr. Fenway very kind about my horrid choices and obvious lack of attention. When Lord McGregor and Cecily won by a landslide, the men switched chairs, thus switching partners.

  I shot Lord McGregor a commiserating look. “I apologize, sir. It is certainly not my lucky night.”

  “Ah, but I can honestly say it is mine,” he graciously replied. “What other man can boast two such lovely partners back to back?”

  Cecily and I both looked at Mr. Fenway.

  “Besides Mr. Fenway, naturally,” Lord McGregor said with a grin. He shuffled and dealt our cards, and we got ourselves off to a decent beginning.

  “You have not seen Rosalynn yet this evening, have you?” I asked.

  Lord McGregor glanced up from his cards, his brows pulling together slightly. “I was unaware she intended to come.”

  I had not thought of that potential. Perhaps she had changed her mind. I focused on my hand of cards, trying to show Cecily I was not generally as hopeless at whist as I had so far proved.

  I caught Freya’s eye as she sat on the sofa near Aunt Georgina and she gave me a tentative smile. I returned it with much more enthusiasm, glad to know that she, at least, was not angry with me.

  We nearly won the round, but Mr. Fenway and Cecily pulled ahead by a few points. Before either of the gentlemen could be polite and offer another round—to which I would’ve been forced to accept—I stood from my chair. Both gentlemen hastily followed my lead. “Thank you for your company. I must greet my aunt.”

  I crossed the room, aware of the extra eyes that followed me. I had anticipated some praise for this particularly exquisite gown, but nothing to what I was receiving. It was disconcerting to say the least.

  “Your gown,” Freya gushed when I approached. “I vow, it is the loveliest I have seen this Season.”

  “It is not a ball gown,” I said. “There have been far superior gowns. It is only difficult to recall them at present.”

  She looked ready to argue but I cut her off as we approached her mother. “Mrs. Hurst, how lovely to see you. Have you met my aunt?”

  “Yes, yes. I know Miss Stuart,” she said.

  I’d never heard her called by anything other than “Aunt Georgina” before, and the “Miss Stuart” did not fit her regal white hair or bright, intelligent gaze in my eyes.

  “I haven’t yet,” Freya said excitedly.

  I reached for her hand. “Then allow me to do the honors.”

  We stepped over to the corner where a few older women were gathered near Aunt Georgina. They scattered slightly when we approached, much like hens.

  “Aunt, allow me to introduce my dear friend, Miss Freya Hurst.”

  Freya curtseyed most becomingly under Aunt Georgina’s watchful eye. She stood tall and welcomed the appraisal, a grin stretching her lips and revealing her straight, clean teeth.

  A single nod indicated the end of the evaluation. “Pretty thing,” Aunt Georgina said decisively. “And you are doing well this Season?”

  A blush pinked Freya’s cheeks and she darted a glance at me briefly before looking away. “I do well enough,” she said finally.

  “Shall I fetch you a refreshment?” I asked Aunt Georgina.

  “Yes. Lemonade, please.”

  Perhaps leaving the two of them alone was not my finest moment. But it was a quick trip—the footman immediately handed me a glass of lemonade when I approached—and I was back in minutes, startled to find Aunt Georgina and Freya in deep conversation.

  “I may never have a dog, for Mama is deathly allergic, but if I did, I vow I would want one just like Coco.”

  Had she relayed the story of Coco’s discovery in the park? I tamped down the pain that shot through me. “Actually,” I said, clearing my throat. “I must find another home for her. Father has forbidden me from having a dog.”

  Aunt Georgina looked dumbfounded; Freya was shocked.

  “Whatever for?”

  I shrugged. “It is not for me to know. Nor is it for me to ask questions. I shall have to simply hope I will find a good solution in the morning. I have until noon.”

  “Oh, child,” Aunt Georgina said. “What a horrid thing. You must bring her here.”

  “You cannot want a little terrier, Aunt. She is sweet but has her fair share of energy.”

  Aunt Georgina preened. “Then perhaps a little will rub off on me. It is
decided, she will come here for the time being.”

  I dared not hope what that could imply. She could mean it was an acceptable arrangement for a few days. Or she could mean it was appropriate until the end of the Season when I would earn my independence.

  I would not ask her to clarify now. Better to let her fall in love with Coco before I beg to impose long term. “Very well. Thank you.”

  She waved a hand nonchalantly. “It is nothing. I employ far too many servants, anyway. Best give them something to do.”

  Freya shot me an amused glance and I returned it, freezing when I caught a pair of deep brown eyes on the far side of the room: Rosalynn. My heart quickened when I noticed the man escorting her, his perfectly messy hair and discerning gaze sweeping the room. I turned abruptly, pushing away the feelings I did not want to own up to.

  It was unfair, really, how the heart seemed to have a mind of its own.

  “Freya,” I said, hoping to guard the nerves in my voice. “Rosie is here.”

  She spun on her heel, her hopeful eyes seeking out our friend. It had to be a good sign that Rosalynn showed up at all. I was going to hold onto that thought as long as I was able.

  She turned worried eyes on me. “Should we approach her?”

  “Yes,” Aunt Georgina said, startling both of us. “I do not pretend to follow what is happening here. But if she is the other woman you promised to introduce me to, Elspeth, then you best bring her here.”

  “Yes, Aunt.”

  I crossed the room slowly, in control, Freya by my side. Rosalynn stood near the door, speaking with her brother and Lord McGregor, who had reached them before we did.

  “You must partner me,” he was saying. “I should like to show off, and with you, there is no other course.”

  Rosalynn’s lips formed a pretty grin. “Because I am superior at all card games?”

  “Because you are particularly talented at whist.”

  She glanced to me briefly and then opened her mouth to respond when I stepped forward. “My aunt should like to meet you first, if you have a moment.” I hoped such a request could not go ignored. Particularly as she was the hostess.