Anne Herries - Bartered Bride

‘That is extremely generous of you, sir. It would depend on Lord Rothsay’s immediate plans, I imagine.’

‘I dare say we have a horse that may suit you,’ the marquis said, his tone sharp, causing her to turn her head and look at him once more. ‘Your offer was well intended, Bertie, but I assure you I shall see that my bride has all she needs. I dare say she may care to ride over with me in the carriage and meet your mama—perhaps for tea tomorrow?’

‘Certainly. Mama would be honoured.’

Lottie wondered if she imagined it, but she felt a slight squeeze of her arm and Sir Bertie’s eyelid flickered.

At that moment she let go of his arm, walking into the house in front of the gentlemen. She heard the murmur of their voices behind her, then Mrs Mann came forward to greet her.

‘Ah, Miss Stanton,’ she said. ‘Your father was anxious about you. I think he feared something might have happened to you. You were not in your room and no one knew where you had gone.’

‘I went for a walk to the lake,’ Lottie replied with a little frown. ‘Forgive me if anyone was worried. I am not in the habit of informing anyone when I go out—though I do sometimes tell my aunt.’

‘When are we to expect your aunt, Miss Stanton?’ The marquis’s stern question caught Lottie by surprise.

‘I believe she will come for the ball,’ Lottie said. ‘I am certain she would have liked to come with us—but I was not sure…’

‘You must write to…I am not sure of the lady’s name?’

Lottie met the marquis’s eyes without a flicker of emotion. Two could play at this game!

‘Lady Hoskins. My Aunt Beth. She came to look after…me, when my mother died. I am very fond of her.’

‘You should have brought her with you. This is to be your home, Lottie. You must feel free to invite whomever you wish.’

‘You are kind, my lord—but there is only my aunt, and perhaps Cousin Agatha. I do not particularly wish to invite her, but she may come if she hears of our engagement…’

‘Indeed? A lady of some determination, then?’ For a moment a gleam of amusement showed in the marquis’s eyes and Lottie found herself smiling along with him, despite herself.

‘Yes, most certainly. Both Papa and…Aunt Beth go in fear of her tongue.’

‘You do not?’ His brows rose.

‘No, I have never feared her. She scolds me but I do not mind her. I am, you see, a very independent woman, my lord.’

‘Should I take that as a warning?’

‘Yes, I believe you should.’

Lottie preceded him into the drawing room that Mrs Mann had indicated. Her father was staring out of the window. He whirled round, relief in his eyes.

‘Lottie! I thought you had done a bunk—’ Seeing that the marquis and a stranger followed her, Sir Charles checked himself and his neck turned the colour of brick. ‘My daughter has a habit of wandering off alone for hours…’

Lottie was sure that neither of the gentlemen would believe his clumsy excuse. Sir Bertie would be imagining that she was being forced into an unwelcome marriage—and she had no idea what the marquis was thinking.

‘Papa, anyone would think I was still your little girl. I assure you I am much too content here to run off without a word to anyone—which would be extremely rude of me. Had I known it would alarm you, I should have told you that I intended to go for a walk.’

‘Well, you know how it is, a father will always be anxious for his daughters’s safety.’

‘Truly, Papa, you have no need to be anxious on my account. I am well accustomed to taking care of myself.’

‘Yes, I dare say…’ Sir Charles sat down, looking ill at ease as Lottie took a chair by the tea table. ‘No tea for me, thank you. I would not say no to some more of that excellent Madeira, Rothsay.’

‘I am certain it can be arranged,’ he replied and flicked his coat tails as he sat on a chair near the fireplace. The large grate was empty because the room was pleasantly warm, lit by the afternoon sun. ‘Bertie takes his tea with lemon, I believe—and I’ll have the same.’

‘Sir Bertie?’ Lottie asked, directing her smile at him. ‘Will you also take sugar?’

‘No, I thank you, just the lemon. Rothsay knows my tastes well, Miss Lottie. Mama always has cream and sugar, but I prefer the lemon.’

Lottie poured the tea, handing it to a maid who stood waiting to pass it to the gentlemen.

‘Would you care for anything more, Sir Bertie? Those almond comfits look tasty—or perhaps a sandwich? What do we have…I am not sure of your name?’ She glanced at the young maid, who blushed.

‘It is Rose, Miss Stanton. Rose Brown.’

‘What kind of sandwiches are they, Rose?’

‘Tomato and cucumber from our hothouses, Miss Stanton, also egg and cress…watercress, that is, from our own…’

‘That will do, Brown,’ Mrs Mann said after offering Sir Charles a glass of Madeira. ‘If you would prefer chicken or salmon, I can have Cook make some very quickly, Miss Stanton.’

‘I think I should like the cucumber,’ Lottie said. ‘What a treat. We seldom have it at home, for it is hardly ever to be found locally. You are very lucky to be able to grow your own, my lord.’

‘I dare say. I had not considered it.’

‘Rothsay takes everything for granted,’ Sir Bertie said and grinned at his friend. ‘He has been fed with a silver spoon since birth, Miss Lottie, and believes the world owes him the best of everything. It would do him the world of good to be denied something he truly wanted.’

‘And I suppose you have had to work the skin from your fingers?’ The marquis looked askance at his friend.

‘I shall not deny that I too have been lucky to inherit a sizeable amount—but I do not take it all for granted, as you do, Rothsay. I know myself to be a fortunate fellow.’ His gaze dwelled on Lottie. ‘Though not at this moment as fortunate as you…’

‘It is a long time since we held a ball here,’ the marquis said and frowned. ‘My people are well able to cope but I feel we need a hostess. I shall ask my godmother to come and stay, but I wondered if your mama would care to help Countess Selby and Lottie compile a list of people who should be invited?’

‘I imagine Mama would enjoy that very much—but you can ask her when you ride over for tea tomorrow. When exactly were you thinking of holding the ball?’

‘In another two weeks,’ the marquis replied, making Lottie catch her breath. ‘I see no point in delay—and it will give us time to invite everyone and order whatever is needed from London.’

She had only two weeks to persuade him that she was not a suitable bride or accept her fate and marry him!

Lottie’s hand trembled slightly as she sipped her tea. Everything seemed to be going so fast. The marquis had a note of decision in his voice when he gave the date of the ball. It was very strange, but Lottie had thought he might be regretting his decision to take her instead of the money her father owed him, but now she thought she detected a change.

There was, she believed, a gleam in his eyes that had not been there when they arrived.

Sir Bertie and the marquis went off together after tea, leaving Lottie and her father together in the parlour.

‘Well, Lottie, what do you think now you’ve met him?’ Sir Charles asked in a low voice. ‘Can you bear it?’

‘Yes, I think so—unless the marquis were to relent and release you from the bargain and your debt, Papa.’

‘You will certainly have all the luxuries that money can buy, m’dear—but if you should hate the idea I can tell him it won’t do.’

‘I believe we must be realistic. I am two and twenty and I have no fortune whatsoever. This may be my only chance to marry well. After all, most young women marry to oblige their families, do they not?’