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

by Kasey Stockton

  “Just a friend.”

  His eyebrow hitched up. “A secret assignation, perhaps?”

  I could have slapped him for the inappropriate insinuation. I hoped the shock and disgust on my face proved how false he was. Choosing to retain my dignity over making a scene, I turned away from him without gracing his rudeness with a response and sidestepped the arm I saw reaching for me from my peripheral vision. Thoroughly disturbed, I hastened my steps around a group of ladies whispering to one another and sped for the other side of the room. Heads turned wherever I walked and I straightened my spine against the words I heard floating around the ballroom. My name, Cameron’s name, and a multitude of insinuations were making their rounds.

  There was a flash of red among the pale sea of gowns. Rosalynn stood near the back wall and my heart leaped at the tall dark-haired man beside her, his back to me.

  Approaching Rosalynn, I could not control the grin that lit my face.

  Disappointment filtered through me when he turned and it was Lord Tarquin’s face I beamed at like a lovesick fool. I had not seen him since that day, ages ago it felt, in their home. I hadn’t previously noted how similar to Cameron he looked. But I supposed it shouldn’t have been a shock, for all of the Nichols siblings were quite similar in appearance.

  “You came,” I said, pulling my gaze from Lord Tarquin.

  She did not smile. “It seemed urgent.”

  “Have you seen Freya?”

  “Not yet,” she answered. Her gaze flicked to her brother and back. Someone passed behind me, pushing me toward Rosalynn.

  “Perhaps we should try to find somewhere more private.”

  Lord Tarquin delivered a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll be in the card room when you are ready to leave.”

  We followed him into the sea of pale gowns and dark jackets, through the doors and into the hallway. Lord Tarquin disappeared through a doorway further down and Rosalynn and I were waylaid by Major Heybourne, camped at the entrance to the ballroom.

  “It is too full,” he said simply. “I find I cannot make myself go inside.”

  Lost for words, I looked to Rosalynn for help, but she was distracted, waiting nearby.

  “Have you seen Freya?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he answered, his gaze pulled back into the ballroom. “But then she turned around and left. I find I have no good reason for entering such a crush. I suppose I shall take myself off. Good day, Miss Cox. Lady Rosalynn.”

  We curtseyed and he walked away. Strange behavior, perhaps, but I did not blame him. The ballroom had been hot and stuffy, the smell of heated perfume clouding and making the large room feel small.

  “I suppose she isn’t here, then,” I said, trying to rally. Even if Freya came and left, at least she had shown up. That had to be a good sign.

  “The ladies’ retiring room,” Rosalynn declared, leading me away. We found it shortly and slipped inside as a young woman and her mother were leaving.

  Upon first glance the room was empty, I followed Rosalynn to a sofa and sat down.

  “What is so urgent?” she asked immediately.

  A squeal sounded behind us and we both leaped from the sofa, my hand coming to hold my racing heart as Freya stepped from behind the curtain on the back window.

  “What are you doing?” Rosalynn demanded.

  “Hiding from that horrible woman and her daughter,” she responded.

  Rosalynn was still angry, her chest rising and falling rapidly while her face took on an exasperated groan. “But why hide from us?”

  “I didn’t very well know it was you until you spoke, now did I?”

  A laugh bubbled from my chest and rolled out, the image of Rosalynn and Freya so angry with each other over a simple fright simply too much to bear. It was the final straw in a series of high-strung events and I laughed louder and louder, unable to stem my amusement. Sitting on the sofa, I clutched an arm around my midsection and laughed hysterically, only getting louder as I heard the others join in. It was ridiculous, really, and I was ever so grateful no one chose to enter the room at that precise moment, for we looked positively mad.

  Wiping a stray tear from each eye, I leaned back on the sofa. Freya came out of her hiding place and sat beside me. Rosalynn crossed to the door and slid the lock into place.

  “To avoid more horrible women and their daughters,” she said, by way of explanation. “Now will you tell us what the letters were about?”

  “Us,” I said, fixing each of them with a look in turn, Freya on the sofa beside me and Rosalynn across from us in a high back chair. “I do not pretend to know why either of you have pulled away from me, but I cannot like it.” Rosalynn opened her mouth to argue but I lifted my hands, halting her. “You do not need to share with me the details of your troubles, but I would like to remind you I am here for you. I have been here for you since we were girls and nothing you could do or say would cause me to stop loving either of you.”

  I took a deep breath. Now came the difficult part of my speech. It was easy to remind them that I cared, but asking them to care for me was a whole different scenario. “I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with the latest articles about me, but they have taken a turn for the worse. They are spouting lies that are ruining my reputation. My mother fears it is impossible to recover, and I learned this evening that we are unlikely to stay in London much longer. But I needed you both to know the things they are saying are false.” I turned to Rosalynn. “And the things that have been said about Lord Cameron are untrue.”

  “Not all of them,” she said quietly, her eyes cast down.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Rosalynn shifted awkwardly in her seat. The slow burn of dread began in my gut and grew outward. She could not hold eye contact with either of us and when her eyes closed tightly, I feared she was not going to explain.

  Her voice was quiet. “Cameron is behind everything.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The dead silence in the room was interrupted by a rattle on the doorknob, causing all three of us to jump. We watched the knob as it continued to rattle until whoever was trying to get in ceased, and footsteps could be heard receding.

  “I feel like you ought to explain,” Freya said calmly.

  “I know.” Rosalynn closed her eyes once more and blew out a long breath. “Cameron has been hassled by my father for the last two years to choose a career. He was uninterested in the church and the military, and he found the law dull. He turned to writing instead.”

  “I do not follow,” I said, not ready to believe it. How many conversations had I shared with the man about my distinct discomfort with the spotlight those articles placed on me? “Are you are saying Cameron has been writing the articles? But they make him look bad, too.”

  “No, not all of them. But he is responsible for your fame. He is responsible for many people’s fame. He has been writing gossip articles for the newspapers for the last two years, and it was he that produced The Green Door.”

  I sat in stunned silence, waiting for the words to sink in. I registered what she had said, but I could not convince myself to accept them. I did not want to understand. It would mean believing the worst about a man I was beginning to care about.

  Freya shook her head. “But that book was written by a woman! You cannot expect us to believe that. Besides, you mean to tell us you’ve known who was hurting Elsie and you have said nothing?”

  “He is my brother,” Rosalynn said, affronted. “What was I supposed to do?”

  “Warn us!” Freya stood, her disposition matching her fiery hair. “I am disturbed that I considered you a friend.” Shaking her head in disbelief, she scoffed. “If I had discovered that it was my own mother writing those things about Elsie I would have gone to her straight away and done everything in my power to stop it.”

  “Of course I did everything in my power to try and stop it!” Rosalynn jumped to her feet. They squared off, and I knew I should step in and do something, but I was numb. />
  “No, you did not. You did not warn us!”

  “I did not even find out until after he had ceased writing them. The column was taken over by someone else.”

  Freya scoffed. “So that condones his past behavior? He still knows more than the rest of us, Rosie. He still would be able to give us the information we need to find a way to end it.”

  Rosalynn threw her arms out in frustration. “You cannot end the newspapers!”

  They were shouting now and I was positive that if anyone was standing in the hall they would be able to hear every word. My reputation was bruised enough, and now my pride alongside it. I faced them and said with every last bit of strength I could muster, “I thank you for coming forward now, Rosalynn, and I would ask that you tell your brother I should never like to see him again.”

  I turned to go but she came around and cut me off. “No, Elsie, you do not get to say your piece and be done with it. I need to explain.”

  Freya laughed mirthlessly from the sofa, where she had slumped down again. “As if you have a right to anything now.”

  Glaring, Rosalynn ignored the barb. “I love my brother, but I do not condone what he did. I am furious with him and that he has taken advantage of you and the bargain with your mother. I came tonight to warn you, actually, to stay away from him. He’s writing a sequel to The Green Door that heavily features a young debutante who cannot say no to any of her suitors. I could see you’ve been spending more time with him, and I needed you to know he is just like every other man, and his ulterior motives are probably infinitely worse. He will utterly ruin you when his book is published.”

  Blood drained from my face and Rosalynn began to sway in front of me. I felt cool all over and registered a look of concern on her features before her hands gripped me, leading me to a chair.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Of course she’s not all right,” Freya snapped.

  I leaned my head against the back of the padded chair, closing my eyes to cut off the swirling and wishing I could close my ears to their bickering as well.

  “Enough,” I said weakly.

  They did not hear. The arguing mounted until I could not take it any longer and I sat up quickly, squashing the urge to smack both of them. “I said enough!”

  They both paused, turning to me. I rubbed the weariness from my eyes and tried to sit up tall. The blood had returned to my head, for I did not quite feel so dizzy and faint. But to say I was well would be an overstatement.

  “This arguing is not helping anyone. And there is a ball on the other side of the hallway, so I suggest we each take a few deep breaths and go find our mothers.”

  “I came alone,” Freya said.

  “I came with Tarquin.”

  I looked at Freya. “You came alone? No chaperone at all?”

  She shrugged. “Father is away and Mama was unwell. I planned to slip in and speak to you and then leave directly.”

  “Probably for the best,” Rosalynn agreed. “You do not want to be caught alone.”

  Freya speared her with a glare. “I care not for my reputation.”

  “Apparently.”

  Exasperated, I said, “Please, enough!”

  They both had the grace to look slightly ashamed. I cleared my throat. If anyone in the room had the right to be furious, it was me. And I certainly was, just not with either of them. “Tomorrow, Hatchards at noon?”

  Freya raised her eyebrows. “After all of that, you want to go to a bookstore?”

  “I need a reasonable excuse to leave the house and a store my Mother will not insist on accompanying me to.”

  They both nodded their heads in understanding. After we all agreed, Rosalynn unlocked the door and we slipped back into the deserted hallway. Freya snuck away and when I made for the ballroom Rosalynn stopped me, pulling at my arm.

  “You must know I did everything I could.”

  I had a hard time believing that since she did not even tell me when she learned the news. Her eyes were remorseful, but they did not erase the past. I wondered how much she knew about my courtship—if it could even be called that, now that I knew it was false—with her brother, and if she had believed me to be falling in love as much as I had believed it. A pang sliced my heart and I chose to file it away to consider at a later time. I was afraid if I thought much on it now then I would fall apart at the Nelsons’ ball, which would not do me any favors.

  “Where is he?” I asked instead. Lord Tarquin had not escorted her a single time the entire Season up until this ball.

  “Something came up. He’s not here.”

  “You know he has been courting me, though?”

  “Yes.” She stood taller. “And I tried to warn you that he is selfish just like every other man. Why do you think I shoved you into him at the card party? I was trying to show you his less charming side. He would not have made you happy, Elsie,” she spat. “He is not different than the rest.”

  Evidently.

  My heart broke again with every word she spoke. Hadn’t she hurt me enough? Why did she feel the need to twist the knife her brother placed in my back? I walked away from her, into the crush of warm bodies with overly intricate hair and cloying perfume. I circled the room until I found my mother, the look of surprise on her face evidence that I looked unwell.

  Leaning forward, she whispered, “Is it the rumors? How bad is it?”

  I weighed my options and then spoke the truth, considering my heart, my ideals, and my reputation.

  “I fear I shall never recover.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Arriving at Hatchards before noon gave me plenty of time to pretend to browse the shelves and consider what I was going to say. I had been awake all night tossing between bitterness, anger, and despair, and I had yet to settle on a solitary emotion. While a small part of me hoped to run into Cameron so I could tell him precisely how I felt, I was quite positive I should utterly break if I had to face him so soon, the betrayal still fresh and raw.

  Freya appeared first and we escaped to a far corner above stairs where we could speak and not be overheard.

  “Do you think Rosalynn will come?” she asked.

  I lifted a shoulder. “I hope so.”

  Freya shook her head, her red curls bouncing. “I am not sure I can ever forgive her.”

  I wanted to ask why, but Rosalynn came up the stairs then, her face ashy and drawn as though she had seen a ghost.

  “What is it?” I asked, afraid.

  She shook her head, her voice soft and thin. “I don’t even know how to say this. I am not sure I can speak the words aloud.”

  Concern filled me; something was gravely wrong. Selfishly, my first thought was that the second book Cameron wrote had been released before I had time to get out of town, but her eyes indicated something far more severe and I pushed the thought away.

  “Do you need to sit down?” Freya asked.

  Nodding, Rosalynn allowed us to lead her to a chair. “It is my brother,” she said quietly, her eyes staring into the distance behind us. “There was an accident this morning and he is dead.”

  I looked to Freya, unsure if I had heard correctly. Hoping I had not heard her correctly.

  “Your brother?” Freya asked, speaking the words my mouth could not form.

  Rosalynn nodded. “There was a duel. This morning. The other man was unharmed and taken into custody.”

  “Rosie,” Freya said gently, her earlier anger forgotten. “Which brother?”

  That seemed to startle her from her stupor. She looked between us. “Geoffrey.”

  Guilt pierced me at my profound relief. I glanced once at her sorrowful eyes and knew immediately she was devastated. He was the oldest brother, set to inherit the dukedom one day, and had been growing more and more angry and autocratic like his father. But regardless of his tyrannical behavior, he was still her brother.

  I wrapped my arms around Rosalynn and pulled her into an embrace, pleased when Freya joined us. Soon Rosal
ynn was wracked with sobs, her body heaving while she dampened my shoulder, venting sorrow and grief.

  We sat that way for quite some time, until the tears dried up and Rosalynn pulled away, using her handkerchief to wipe her nose and dry her eyes.

  “I must go shopping,” she said, surprising me. “I do not own a single thing in black.”

  “I can help,” Freya said, shocking me further.

  I glanced between them. It did not matter what mistakes we had made or secrets we had kept. When it truly mattered, we would always be there for one another. We sat in the book store and listened to Rosalynn share stories about her brother. Some we had heard before, like when he taught her to ride her first pony or showed her the hidden door underneath the stairway, and others she hadn’t before shared, like when they hid on the roof and dropped spoonfuls of pudding onto unsuspecting servants.

  My traitorous mind wondered where Cameron was and if he was receiving the support and comfort he needed as well. But I shoved the thoughts away, reminding myself he was a horrible man and the Cameron I thought I knew was not the man he truly was. I turned my attention to rubbing Rosalynn’s back and focusing on her stories.

  When we finally stood to go, she looked weary but resolute. She was going to be fine.

  ROSALYNN’S CARRIAGE rolled away down the street and Freya watched it go, an unreadable expression on her face. She had gone from furious to supportive so quickly that I wondered where the negative energy went and whether she was merely shoving it aside to access at a later time.

  “I suppose I should tell you,” she said, pulling me from my thoughts. “It shall become common knowledge soon enough.”

  “Whatever are you speaking of?”

  She turned to walk down the street and I followed her, glancing over my shoulder to see Molly trailing behind us.

  “Do you remember the man from The Green Door, I believe he was called Julius, who had a secret family in France?”

  I nodded, unsure of where this was leading.

  “Well,” she said, sighing. “That is my father.”