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

by Kasey Stockton

  Honesty. That was simply the only way to go.

  She approached me, eying the book skeptically.

  “The Green Door,” she said aloud. Her eyebrows raised. “But where—”

  “I read it in hours, Mother. It was fascinating. I vow Lady Clifton was correct. My time in the spotlight is surely over.”

  She took the book from my hand and searched my face. Saying nothing, she turned and walked from the room. It was not kind to bring up Lady Clifton’s remarks, but it had been successful. Mother did not ask again from whom I received the book.

  And if I had hit my mark, then she would spend the remainder of the day reading and I was free to do as I wished.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Hurst home was positively overflowing with flowers, assaulting my senses the moment I stepped through the front door. Freya had mentioned her Mama’s affinity for bouquets a time or two but never before had I seen it in action. The effect was stunning, regardless of the overpowering smell. Flowers of many varieties cascaded down the stairway and formed an arbor at the entrance to the music room, where they covered every available surface.

  It was only a musicale—not even a ball. Clearly Mrs. Hurst did not do things by halves.

  “Freya, this looks amazing,” I said when I found her and Rosalynn standing beside the fireplace.

  Rosalynn wrinkled her nose. “If only it smelled as nice as it looked.”

  “I’m immune to the scent,” Freya said, delicately lifting one shoulder.

  “I’m not sure if that is a blessing or a deprivation,” Rosalynn said.

  Freya looked thoughtful. “It’s likely a healthy mixture of the two.”

  Lord McGregor approached, Lord Cameron by his side, and turned to Freya. “May I inquire what is both a blessing and a deprivation?”

  Rosalynn’s lips tipped up when she answered Lord McGregor. “Freya has grown accustomed to the smell.”

  “Ah.” The earl nodded his head in understanding. “It certainly is...floral.”

  “That’s the best you could come up with?” Lord Cameron asked, one dark eyebrow raised in challenge.

  Lord McGregor nodded decisively. “Yes.”

  Well, he was honest at least. I found him glancing between Freya and Rosalynn. Was he purposely not looking to me? I suppose I wouldn’t blame him after I came on so strong following our ride in the park. He had probably appreciated that I was not seeking an attachment, at least in the beginning. He was an eligible earl. In marrying him, one would not have to wait for his father to die to gain a title. Which made Lord McGregor one of the best catches of the Season, to be sure. His following of doting debutantes was considerable and I felt guilty for using him as an experiment.

  Although, he had seemed interested at the time. Realistically, I had done him a favor.

  “A ha’penny for your thoughts, Miss Cox?”

  I pivoted toward Lord Cameron. “Pardon?”

  “Your nose was scrunched up, and lines have formed on your forehead. Those actions do not imply shallow thoughts.”

  I tried to guard my surprise at Lord Cameron’s candor. “Why? For all you know, I was wondering whether there would be pudding with our dinner or not.”

  He did not look convinced. “Were you?”

  “No.”

  “Honesty,” he said, stepping closer. “Quite refreshing.”

  “To a degree,” I countered, leaning back slightly. I was not about to inform him that I had been considering his friend’s prospects.

  “Elsie is astute,” Rosalynn said, drawing my gaze from her brother’s face to her own. “Do you care to venture a guess?”

  “Regarding?”

  “The green door.”

  All eyes were on me. Was it socially acceptable to enjoy the book? Because I had, thoroughly. I took a leap and chose to go with honesty. “I loved it.”

  “Of course you loved it,” Freya said. “We are not asking about the book in general, but the actual green door. Who do you think it belongs to?”

  Oh, that. I had no idea. The green door allegedly led to a drawing room that revolved constantly with high society—and, subsequently, their scandals. Apparently, everyone in town had gone through the door at one point or another if the anonymous author were to be believed. “I have no earthly idea. Though I would love to find out.”

  “Wouldn’t we all?” Freya asked dreamily.

  “Not I,” Lord McGregor said. “It makes no difference to me.”

  Rosalynn shot him a knowing smile. “Surely you’ve read the book, though.”

  He grinned. “Of course I have.”

  Dinner was announced and the sea of guests made their way to the dining room where I was surprised to find myself seated beside Lord Cameron once again.

  “How fortunate I am,” he said with great flair. I was beginning to see how Rosalynn considered him the charismatic brother.

  “Bizarre is more apt.”

  We took our seats. “Not really,” he said, “if you consider that we are both middle of the pack where our ranks are considered.”

  “I should think you far outrank me,” I countered.

  He gestured to the men in the room. “Not with two older brothers and a large gathering of titled men.”

  True. I slipped off my gloves and laid them in my lap.

  His gaze prickled my skin, running over me like a cool breeze while we awaited the footmen. “Would you care to enlighten me now?”

  “If you enlighten me first,” I said. “What should you like to know?” I did quite a bit of reading. I could probably talk his ear off about a number of subjects. And these dinners lasted hours—or so it felt. We had plenty of time.

  Lord Cameron’s face took on a contemplative expression. His dark eyes looked thoughtful, the muscle jumping in his jaw.

  The first course was set before us and I lifted my spoon.

  “What is it you cannot do?” he asked with a measured calm. “What Rosalynn and you were discussing the morning in the music room.”

  My spoon stilled. Did he not know already? I searched my memory. “I was sure we discussed this very thing at the last dinner.”

  “I tried to,” he said calmly. He was regulating his expression, his tone, as though he did not want to spook me. “You seemed to think I already knew, and I was hoping you would reveal more in the course of the conversation. I was sorely disappointed.”

  “I am afraid you are going to remain that way.”

  Shock widened his eyes. “What secret could you and Rosalynn possibly have to guard so closely?”

  My head reared back. “What is it with you men?”

  “What does being a man have to do with anything?”

  The poor man. He really, truly, did not know. “Nothing. You are superior, so what should I know anyway?”

  His head tilted in that irritating, condescending manner. “Come now, Elsie, don’t overreact.”

  A lock of his dark hair fell forward and my hand itched to push it back, but I shook out the feeling, disgusted by my reaction.

  “Heavens no, I should never. I’ll just sit here quietly and eat my soup like a good girl.” And ignore the fact that Lord Cameron used my Christian name without my consent, taking liberties wherever he pleased.

  His head nodded once, just slightly, in what was surely cautious agreement and I had to grip my napkin in my lap to avoid reaching out and strangling him.

  When he originally asked me to enlighten him, I should have begun a recitation of Mrs. Wollstonecraft’s theories. It would have either bored him to tears or shut him up, either reaction eliciting silence which was thoroughly preferable to the insults I had just received.

  My partner on the opposite side was a man I had never had much opportunity to get to know; but nor did I want to. Lord Cameron had soured my mood irrevocably and if I was to involve myself with any further conversation, I was bound to embarrass my partner or worse, embarrass my host. And the Hurst family was one I respected. I could not do that to Freya, or
her mother with her multitude of innocent flowers.

  Yes, even in the dining room. They were everywhere.

  The remainder of dinner, I did not open my mouth but to eat. If either of my partners made a comment I simply smiled and nodded, to their evident relief. When Mrs. Hurst stood at the end of the meal and asked all of the ladies to accompany her to the music room while the men remained behind to enjoy their cigars, I did so with a curtsey, a polite smile, and a confident walk from the room, never looking back.

  Lord Cameron was a self-centered pig. No, I forgot; he was a tyrant.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Elsie, you are seething.” Rosalynn shot me a concerned look. My breaths were coming rapidly and I felt warmer than a fresh cup of tea.

  I drew in a deep breath.

  “What is it?” Freya asked softly.

  “Men.”

  She exchanged glances with Rosalynn. They gently led me by the elbows to the chairs set up for the musicale and deposited me in one on the far right, taking their seats beside me. Mother was speaking to a group of women on the far side of the room and the other women were dispersed throughout it. We had the chairs to ourselves for the moment.

  I gave Rosalynn a meaningful look. “Or perhaps I should more accurately say ‘Tyrants.’”

  “I could have guessed. Cameron, I suppose?”

  I nodded.

  “He can be insufferable at times. Though I suppose we can hardly blame him. He doesn’t know better.”

  “What am I missing?” Freya asked, glancing between us. “I don’t fully comprehend.”

  Both sets of eyes sat on me expectantly. “He questioned me on my bargain with my mother. Though he did not know what he wished to learn, he was simply curious after overhearing us speak about it once. Things got out of hand afterward.”

  “He is the curious one,” Rosalynn said nodding. “And I fear he does not let things go. Should we appease his interest so he can move on?”

  “And have everyone learn that I cannot say the word ‘no?’ What kind of havoc would that wreak?”

  Her brow furrowed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  I had. I guarded this ridiculous bargain close to my heart like a cherished heirloom.

  Our heads all turned toward the door when it opened to admit the masculine half of the party. Lord Cameron caught my eye and I held his for a moment. I would not cower away from him, but neither would I play coy any longer. I was ashamed of myself for doing it at all in the first place.

  “What are you performing?” Freya asked excitedly. “I have prepared a Mozart piece, so I vow I will bore the men considerably.”

  “I am going to sing,” Rosalynn said with nonchalance. She possessed an elegant voice and was often asked to sing at functions. There was no comparison.

  “Do you need an accompaniment? I did not have sufficient time to prepare anything so I was hoping to avoid a performance.”

  Rosalynn gripped my arm. “That would be fantastic. I do hate to sing while seated.”

  As everyone took their seats, I was painfully aware of Lord Cameron and Lord McGregor installing themselves directly behind us. My neck prickled in awareness and I did my best not to turn my head for the duration of the concert, except when Rosalynn leaned over to explain what she would be singing and the small variations she would make.

  Freya played the pianoforte beautifully. After her performance, when it came time for Rosalynn’s turn, I caught Mother’s eye on the way to the front of the room, surprise etched on her face. At least it looked to be of the pleasant variation.

  Rosalynn took her place in front of the instrument and I settled myself on the seat. After a beat of silence, we dove in, the room especially quiet in preparation for Rosalynn’s angelic voice.

  And she outdid herself. If I was not so sure of her natural love for singing and constant practice, I would believe she had taken additional lessons in preparation for this evening. Any practicing was undoubtedly a byproduct of her constant time spent in the music room of her home. Her oasis, she once termed it.

  The audience broke into applause at the end of her final drawn-out note and I sat back a little on my bench, allowing the praise to flow and settle on Rosalynn’s deserving shoulders. We took our seats shortly and I avoided Lord Cameron’s gaze, fixing my own upon Lord McGregor, who was positively beaming.

  Mrs. Hurst thanked all of the performers and invited her guests to stay for tea.

  “Magnificent, Lady Rosalynn,” Lord McGregor said from behind us. “As always.”

  She dipped her head coyly, but the smile on her lips was anything but.

  “Oh drat,” Freya said suddenly. “Mama needs me.” She gave us a long-suffering look and crossed over our knees toward the corner of the room where the matrons were gathering and Mrs. Hurst was eyeing Freya significantly.

  “Who even paints the doors into their drawing rooms?” Rosalynn asked suddenly.

  It took all of two seconds for me to realize she had gone back to discussing the book. Her mother was correct. It was going to sweep through society. My name could not possibly be bandied about the gossip columns come morning.

  “Actually, a good many people do,” Lord McGregor cut in.

  She raised her eyebrow. “Have you taken to noticing doors in recent days?”

  “Perhaps I have. You may find you’ll do the same.”

  I considered the door in the book and the wealthy matron who owned it. She lived alone, though she was surrounded by many people at all times. She was the hub of the social scene and never saw a lonely moment, if the author was to be believed, whoever it was.

  Rosalynn said, “I would like to know who the man is that escapes to France every six months to visit the other family he has secreted there.”

  “I should like to know who the woman is that laments her lack of children but secretly houses sixteen dogs in her tiny townhouse,” I added.

  Lord McGregor grinned. “I would be happy just to know who the lady is with a secret baby in the country and yet continues to come to London in hope of finding a husband.”

  We all looked to Lord Cameron. He blinked back at us.

  “Well?” Rosalynn prodded.

  He shrugged.

  “You have not read it?” I asked.

  “No, I have.”

  We continued to regard him with interest. He was perhaps the most curious of our lot. How had he not joined in yet?

  Rosalynn must have had the same thought. “Surely you don’t think us daft. There is no way you aren’t wondering to whom the book refers.”

  “I needn’t wonder,” he said, a self-satisfied smirk tilting his lips. “I already know.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “The devil you don’t!” Rosalynn exclaimed, a bit too loudly.

  Faces turned toward us from about the room and I shrunk in shame over her outburst. She had said a very unladylike word. Indeed, it was nearly disgraceful. Hopefully, the informant for the dratted gossip column hadn’t overheard, or she would undoubtedly make lead news in the morning.

  “Of course I do. It isn’t so hard to figure out. Mr. Harrison is the man with a family in France. Lady Bloom is the woman with the dogs.”

  “What about the woman with the baby in the country?” I asked.

  He regarded me closely. I smiled subtly, I had him stumped.

  “I shall not disclose that,” he said seriously. “I am no gossip.”

  “Surely you cannot know, man,” Lord McGregor said.

  Lord Cameron spared him a glance before standing suddenly. “Would anyone like tea? Rosalynn, Miss Cox?”

  So it was ‘Miss Cox’ again? Well, good.

  “Yes,” Rosalynn said with a wave of her hand. Her eyebrows pulled together in frustration. Regardless of how dignified she was, she was undoubtedly as curious as her brother and it pained her that he knew something and wouldn't share it.

  He turned to me and I said, “Yes. Cream and sugar, please.”

  Lord McGregor followed Lo
rd Cameron toward the tea table and Rosalynn turned to me abruptly. “He knows.”

  “Or he is pretending,” I offered.

  “No.” She shook her head and sat back, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “I know that face. He is happy he knows something we do not. Perhaps...” She gave me a sidelong glance and it took two beats of the clock for me to make the connection she had formed in her mind.

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “Rosie, no. If you tell your brother about my bargain, it is sure to become common knowledge. I would become sport for the young men once they find out that I cannot say no.”

  She sighed, slumping back in her chair momentarily. “You are right. I simply must find another way.”

  “Perhaps it is best if we do not know who the woman is. The other secrets are silly; this one is serious.”

  But Rosalynn seemed not to hear me, so wrapped up she was in her own thoughts. The men delivered our tea and I glanced around the room in search of Freya. When I finally found her I nearly dropped my cup in surprise to see her speaking to Major Heybourne.

  “What is it?” Lord Cameron asked, his gaze intently on my own.

  A smile touched my lips. “Oh, nothing. A friend of mine is here that I did not previously notice.” I turned to Rosalynn, shaking her out of her trance.

  Her eyes were wide and doe-eyed.

  “Come, I have someone I want to introduce to you.”

  She was intrigued. “Oh?”

  “Yes, and you will recall I spoke of him once. About Bath...and bright red punch at the Assembly Halls.”

  Enlightenment lit her face. “Oh yes! He is here? But I must meet this man.”

  “He is speaking to Freya now.”

  We left our teacups with Lord Cameron and Lord McGregor and crossed the room.

  Major Heybourne stood tall, hands clasped behind his back and eyes crinkled in delight. We made eye contact moments before we approached their group, and his smile widened.

  “Major Heybourne,” I said. “How did I miss you at dinner?”