A Bargain With Fate

by Ann Elizabeth Cree

  ‘Grandmother, please,’ said Rosalyn frantically.

  ‘Well, it is impossible to do a thing with you. I thought perhaps Stamford could talk some sense into you. She never knows what is best for herself, particularly in these matters.’

  Michael glanced at Rosalyn’s face, which was by now hot with embarrassment. He looked bemused. ‘If you’ll excuse us, I would like to have a word alone with Rosalyn.’

  ‘Of course,’ replied Lady Carlyn, flashing Rosalyn a triumphant smile.

  He led Rosalyn to a small study near the drawing room and closed the door, then turned to face her. ‘What the devil is that all about?’

  She avoided his eyes. ‘It is nothing to signify. She cannot fathom why we don’t wish to marry right away. I cannot persuade her we would rather wait until autumn.’

  He looked completely astonished.

  She smiled slightly. ‘Don’t worry, my lord. I plan to cry off at the appropriate time. I have no intention of marrying you in the autumn or any other time.’

  ‘I have no fears on that score, my dear. I am quite aware of your thoughts on the subject.’ His voice was so cool, she flushed.

  Then a rueful smile lifted his lips. ‘I supposed it never occurred to me we would actually be asked to consider a wedding date.’

  She sighed. ‘Nor did I. Not until Lady Spence brought it up. She and my grandmother thought a wedding in six weeks would be most appropriate.’

  He stared at her. ‘Six weeks! Good lord! What did you say to that?’

  ‘I was so taken aback I hardly knew what to say. I told Lady Spence I would prefer autumn as it is my very favourite season. The leaves are so pretty, you know,’ she said with a wry smile.

  ‘Of course. Did she accept that?’ he asked. His mouth twitched.

  ‘She had no objections. But Grandmama does not like it. She thinks we should be married immediately. She is horribly tenacious once she gets an idea in her mind. One is almost compelled to do as she wishes just to be left alone.’

  ‘Riding you pretty hard, is she?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Don’t trouble yourself about it any further. I will handle your grandmother.’

  ‘No, I cannot let you do that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It is just…’ She floundered, not knowing quite how to explain how she felt. ‘I don’t want to hide behind you.’

  ‘Hide behind me? What in the devil are you talking about?’

  ‘I am not completely helpless. I have been managing Meryton. And before that, I managed my husband’s household. I am perfectly capable of controlling my grandmother. I don’t want you to interfere in everything I do.’

  ‘I’m not trying to interfere. I am trying to make this situation easier for you.’

  ‘There is no need to do so.’

  ‘I am responsible for you.’

  Her mouth fell open. ‘Responsible for me? Whatever gives you that idea?’

  ‘You are betrothed to me. Therefore, you are my responsibility.’

  ‘I am not betrothed to you! I am pretending to be betrothed to you.’

  He scowled and folded his arms across his chest. ‘I will not argue that point with you again. You are my fiancée until we sever our agreement. I will do as I see fit in these matters, particularly those that concern our betrothal.’

  ‘You mean you intend to high-handedly interfere in my life.’

  ‘If that is how you want to see it, yes, I intend to do so.’

  ‘Well, really! I have nothing more to say to you.’ She marched towards him, intending to stalk out of the study with as much dignity as possible.

  He caught her wrist before she could pass him, pulling her around to face him. ‘But I have more I wish to say to you.’

  She glared at him. ‘Is this how you intend to treat your fiancée? Forcing her to listen to you by imprisoning her?’

  He stared down at her, anger and frustration clearly showing in his face. Suddenly a cool smile lifted his lips. ‘You are right, there are more effective ways.’

  Before she could even think, he yanked her hard against him, his mouth imprisoning hers. Stunned, she offered little resistance until his mouth softened on hers, sending shivers down her spine. Her mouth parted and his tongue lightly touched hers. She pushed against his chest, panicked by her own reaction.

  He released her, staggering a little, his expression unreadable.

  She backed away, her hand groping for the doorknob. Without a word, she wrenched the door open and fled.

  Michael thrust the paper aside. Impossible to concentrate on the damned thing. The only item that caught his interest was the announcement of his betrothal. The sight of his name coupled with Rosalyn’s was unnerving. He read it over at least five times.

  Of course, it meant nothing. It was, after all, a false betrothal as Rosalyn kept reminding him.

  And after last night, he would do best to remember that. He nearly groaned. Whatever had possessed him to kiss her again? He could still recall the taste of her sweet mouth, and the feel of her soft curves pressed against him. The memory had kept him awake a good portion of the night.

  And then there had been the blasted dinner last night. He’d never been jealous of his brother before, but he was as he watched her smile and talk to Philip with an easiness she’d never displayed with him. It had occurred to Michael that Philip was exactly the sort of man she would prefer. And when she’d innocently told him how much she did like Philip, it was all Michael could do to keep himself from forbidding her to so much as glance at his brother.

  Undoubtedly, it had been too long since he’d been with a woman. Some latent sense of honour kept him from taking another woman to his bed as long as he was betrothed to Rosalyn. And after last night, he was finally forced to admit, only one woman aroused more than a passing interest in him—his reluctant fiancée.

  He shook himself. Involving himself with Rosalyn in any other way than business was pure folly. From now on, he’d keep his distance.

  He threw the paper down and stood up, then started at the sight of Elinor Marchant in the doorway, her demeanour cold. His butler stood behind her, his face frozen in icy disapproval.

  ‘Elinor, what a surprise,’ Michael said coolly. ‘And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?’

  ‘Dear Michael! I have not seen you for an age!’ she exclaimed, holding out her hand. The cold look disappeared, to be replaced by a charming smile. She was elegantly dressed in a pomona green gown topped by a matching pelisse trimmed in white braid. The green of the gown brought out the lovely jade green of her eyes. The low cut of her dress, almost breaching propriety, showed a tantalising glimpse of her full breasts. Michael had once found her semi-scandalous mode of dress exciting, but now he found himself comparing it to Rosalyn’s prim gowns. He found he much preferred his betrothed’s more restrained style of dress.

  ‘An age? That is something of an exaggeration, since I saw you only the other night when you so conveniently backed into Lady Jeffreys.’

  Elinor opened her eyes very wide. ‘An accident as you surely know. Tis so crowded at these affairs.’ She laughed, a low throaty laugh, and moved to touch his arm. ‘You know that is not the same. I mean we have not—really seen each other.’ It was impossible to mistake her meaning.

  ‘No. I believe you made it clear last winter that you wished to sever our relationship,’ said Michael bluntly.

  ‘You mean our little quarrel? It was only a lover’s tiff. I never thought you would take it seriously,’ said Elinor with a little pout.

  ‘If a lady says she never wants to see me again and wishes me to perdition, I, of course, do not question her meaning,’ said Michael. He had been relieved when Elinor quarrelled with him. The stormy relationship with the dashing widow had begun to pall on him, and her departure to the north after violent words during a ball had saved him the trouble of giving her her congé. ‘But rehashing this is meaningless—what exactly is the purpose of your visit?’

/>   ‘Why, I read the most amusing thing today. I had to come to verify it for myself.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘The announcement of your betrothal to that quiet little creature, Lady Jeffreys. I could not believe my eyes! Tell me it is not true.’

  ‘Very true. I sent the announcement myself.’

  ‘But how very odd! Marrying one of your flirts? Really, Stamford, whatever possessed you to do such a thing!’

  Her tone was light, but the tight lines about her mouth betrayed her inner fury.

  ‘For all it is your business, I find nothing odd in the fact I have decided to marry,’ said Michael coldly. ‘And Lady Jeffreys is hardly one of my flirts.’

  ‘Really? I thought you never had any intention of marrying. And then to marry such a dull creature. She is so old! She must be at least thirty. I would have been less surprised if you had announced your engagement to a schoolroom chit. Whatever can you find to say to her? She has no conversation.’

  Most of the time he reacted to Elinor’s goading by pretending to misunderstand, thus turning the tables on her, but hearing her insult Lady Jeffreys filled him with cold, dangerous anger. ‘I’m not sure you know what conversation is, my dear. I can’t recall we had that many.’

  Two spots of red appeared on her cheeks. ‘Is that why you’ve decided to marry her? You can’t get anything but conversation any other way! What a sly little thing she is. I am surprised you would be caught so easily by such wiles. Although I could almost feel sorry for her; marriage to you will be unbearable when you tire of her!’

  Michael stepped towards her and Elinor involuntarily took a step back. Fear flickered in her face. ‘If you were a man, I’d call you out for that remark,’ he said softly, coldly. ‘As it is, I suggest you leave. You may show yourself out. I will not trouble Watkins with you. And by the way, I trust there will be no more accidents to Lady Jeffreys’s person.’ He turned his back to her in dismissal and picked up the paper.

  When he heard the door open, he looked up in time to catch the look of hatred which distorted her lovely features as she glanced back at him. She then turned on her heel and left, slamming the door behind her.

  Michael stared at the closed door with an uneasy feeling. He knew Elinor’s temper and capacity for revenge. The maliciousness beneath her lovely façade was one among several other undesirable qualities that made him glad to be rid of her. But what could she possibly do? He did not think she planned to murder Rosalyn or him for that matter. He dismissed Elinor from his mind.

  Lady Marchant burst into her cousin’s breakfast room, causing Edmund Fairchilde to grimace. He put down the cup of coffee he was about to put to his lips and raised a lazy brow. ‘My dear Elinor, whatever brings you here? And in such a temper so early in the day! I cannot recall what I have done to offend you.’

  ‘Nothing, Edmund. I must speak to you. I want your help!’

  ‘My help? How intriguing. But do sit down, I cannot finish my breakfast with you pacing like that!’ He motioned her to sit across from him. Elinor seated herself and pulled off her gloves in short angry strokes.

  ‘Now, what has put you in such a towering rage?’ he inquired.

  ‘Stamford is to marry that creature!’ exclaimed Elinor without preamble. ‘How could this happen? I thought you wanted her!’

  ‘I still do. But what is the problem? I thought you were finished with his lordship.’ When she said nothing, he regarded her speculatively for a moment. ‘Did you actually hope to be the next Duchess of Eversleigh?’

  ‘Why not? Was it so impossible?’

  ‘It was a long shot, my dear, even if you had played your cards right. But I’m afraid your last scene at the Oxford ball ruined your hand. Damning your lover to hell and throwing vases in public is not good ton, my dear.’

  Elinor glared. ‘And I suppose the proper Rosalyn Jeffreys would never do such a thing.’

  ‘It is unlikely.’

  ‘Well, I don’t intend she shall ever be the next Duchess, either!’

  ‘I hope you still don’t have hopes in that direction, Elinor. I’m afraid Stamford is a hopeless cause. If you plan to regale me with tales of your loss, I shall ask you to leave as I find the topic quite boring.’

  ‘I quite detest Stamford,’ she replied coldly. ‘I wouldn’t take him back for all the gold in the world! No, it is revenge.’

  ‘Ah, revenge,’ said Edmund. He pushed his coffee cup aside. ‘Now you begin to interest me. What do you have in mind?’

  ‘I should like Stamford to find out his intended is not as virtuous as he thinks. That under that proper exterior beats a heart as faithless as any.’ She leaned forward in her chair. ‘I want you to break up their betrothal.’

  ‘I hoped you would come up with something a bit more original. I quite intend to do so.’

  ‘Well, how could you let it get this far?’

  ‘My dear, Stamford holds the trump card. He has the estate. His lovely fiancée would do anything to retrieve that worthless piece of property for her brother.’

  ‘So she is marrying him for the estate?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Can’t you get it back?’

  ‘I have already offered Stamford the price. He refused.’

  Elinor scowled. ‘I can’t believe he wants her enough to marry her. He is a fool.’

  ‘He may be many things, but he’s not a fool. No, he has his reasons. However, they don’t concern me.’ He smiled in a way that made Elinor suddenly glad she was not his intended victim. ‘I fully intend to bed Lady Jeffreys. Resistance only makes the game more interesting. And I will quite enjoy thwarting Stamford.’

  ‘I have no idea what any man could see in such a mousy thing. And she is so prim,’ said Elinor with a sniff.

  ‘Sometimes the most prim ladies are the most challenging of all. They can be quite passionate beneath the proper exteriors. It merely takes the right man to bring it out.’

  ‘Don’t be vulgar, Edmund!’

  ‘And what are your plans for thwarting this marriage, m’dear? Or are you leaving it entirely up to me?’

  ‘I shall think of something.’

  Edmund’s mouth curled. ‘I’ve no doubt you will. You know, of course, he will call me out. And I always get my man.’

  Elinor shrugged. ‘He never misses either. I dare say you shall be quite evenly matched and it will prove to be quite amusing.’

  She was quite calm now; plans for intrigue and revenge always had a soothing effect on Lady Elinor Marchant. She took a dainty bite out of a piece of buttered toast.

  ‘You are a wicked woman, Elinor,’ remarked Edmund.

  ‘Me? I am not wicked. I merely do not like being insulted. I am quite nice when people are pleasant to me.’

  He laughed, pushing his chair back from the table. ‘I do not wish to be rude but I must go, m’dear. I have an appointment. Enjoy yourself.’ He left Elinor sitting at the breakfast table, her chin propped in her hand, a secretive pleased smile on her lovely face as she plotted away.

  Chapter Nine

  Rosalyn shoved the pile of bills away and sighed. She feared she would go broke by the end of this betrothal. An engagement to a Marquis was turning out to be an expensive proposition. Perhaps she should present Michael with the bills and demand compensation. Except she had the lowering feeling he would probably pay them as part of the responsibility he seemed to assume for her.

  A frown creased her brow. A week had passed since the dinner party. An uncomfortable week in which she and Michael seemed to be at odds with each other. After that kiss, any fears she might have entertained that he planned to pursue more intimacies with her had been put to rest by his stiff behaviour. He was perfectly attentive in company, but he acted as if she had the plague the few times they were actually alone together.

  Which was what she’d wanted all along, she tried to tell herself. Guilt rushed through her every time she thought of how she had melted against him as if she welcomed his embrace. Des
pite the disappointments in her marriage, she had loved John. Never had she dreamed another man’s kiss could temporarily make her forget him. Worse, the kisses of a man such as Lord Stamford, a hardened rake, the antithesis of all that John had been. Unfortunately, she had a difficult time remembering that.

  ‘Rosalyn?’

  She looked up. As if her thoughts had conjured him, Michael stood in the doorway. In his hands he carried a parcel. Flustered, she rose, pushing a tendril of hair aside. ‘I didn’t expect you today.’

  He advanced into the room. ‘I had no idea if you would be home.’

  ‘I have a mound of bills to pay as you can see. I thought I should do that.’

  He came to stand in front of her desk. ‘Are you managing?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She was embarrassed as she remembered her earlier thought. Certainly she did not want him offering her money. ‘I have just been putting them off. Paying bills is very tedious. Is there something you wish?’

  ‘I have brought you a replacement for your ruined gown.’

  Her eyes flew to his face. ‘There was no need for that. I cannot accept it.’

  He set the parcel on the desk. ‘You must. I had it made especially for you with Caroline’s advice. Open it.’

  ‘But it is not proper.’

  ‘How can you be certain? You’ve not yet seen it. It is a very proper gown.’

  ‘No, I mean it is an improper gift. I cannot accept such a thing from you.’

  He lifted a brow. ‘Must you always argue, my dear? I wished to replace the gown that was ruined. I told you I would do so.’

  ‘The gown was hardly new.’

  ‘Rosalyn. Are you going to open it or not?’ He sounded as if he was fast running out of patience.

  He was in one of those exasperating moods where argument was futile. With unsteady hands, she undid the string and lifted the lid. Her breath caught at the sight of the lace-trimmed, pale pink satin bodice with its delicately puffed sleeves. With gentle hands, she lifted it from the box. The skirt consisted of a lacy overdress over a white satin slip. She stroked the silky material, thinking it was the most beautiful gown she had ever seen.