Candace Camp - The Marriage Wager

“Why, what should you said but ‘Thank you for the dress, Francesca?’” the other woman retorted, smiling.

“I do thank you. But I—”

“What? You do not wish to be friends with me?”

“No!” Constance hastened to assure her. “I would like that very much. Indeed, I should very much like to have a friend. But you are too generous.”

“I am sure that you would be able to find a number of people who would tell you that I am not generous at all,” Francesca retorted.

“You make it very difficult to say no,” Constance told her.

Francesca’s white teeth flashed in a mischievous grin. “I know. I have worked at it for many years. Ah, here is the millinery. Now, stop all these protestations and come help me decide between these hats.”

Constance put away her doubts and followed Lady Haughston into the store. They were greeted with a smile and pleasant words from the girl behind the counter, and a moment later, an older woman who was obviously the proprietress of the store, swept out from the curtained rear of the shop to help them herself.

Francesca modeled both of the hats in which she was interested. One was a soft, dark blue velvet with a jockey brim, a delicate lace veil hanging down to cover her eyes. The other, a straw cottage bonnet, was lined with blue silk and tied fetchingly under the chin with a matching blue ribbon, Gypsy style. Both did wonderful things for her blue eyes, and Constance declared herself as unable to decide as Francesca was.

“You try them on,” Francesca suggested. “Let me see how they look.”

Constance made a token protest, but, in fact, she had been itching to see how the blue-lined straw would look on her. When she tried it on, she could not help but smile at her reflection.

“Oh!” Lady Haughston cried, clapping her hands together. “It looks perfect on you! You must get it, not I. I will take the velvet.”

Constance hesitated, gazing at her image in the mirror. The blue silk lining did as much for gray eyes as for blue, she decided. It was an excessively pretty bonnet, and she had not bought a new hat this year. Surely it would not hurt to spend a little of her money.

Finally, with a sigh, she shook her head. “No, I fear it must be too dear.”

“Oh, no, I am sure it is not. I believe it is on sale, is it not, Mrs. Downing?” Francesca turned and looked significantly at the store owner.

Mrs. Downing, who was well aware of the benefits of Lady Haughston’s patronage, smiled and agreed. “Indeed, it is. You are right, my lady. It is, um…” She shot another glance at Francesca. “…one-third off the price on the tag.” At Francesca’s smile, she nodded. “Yes, that’s right. One-third off. A true bargain.”

Constance looked at the price, quickly calculating. She had never spent even as much as two-thirds of this price for a hat at home. But, then, none had been as becoming or carried quite the elegant panache as this one.

“All right,” she agreed, saying goodbye to her pin money for the month. “I will take it.”

Francesca was delighted with Constance’s purchase and took the velvet hat for herself. Then she insisted on purchasing a spray of tiny silk buds as an ornament for Constance’s hair.

“Nonsense,” she said when Constance protested. “It will look perfect with the blue gown you are borrowing. It is a gift. You cannot refuse it.”

Their hats in boxes, they went back out to their waiting carriage. When they had gotten in and settled into their seats, Constance turned to Francesca.

“My lady—Francesca. I do not understand. Why are you doing this?”

Lady Haughston turned a look of supreme innocence upon her. “Doing what, my dear?”

“All of this.” Constance made a vague gesture around her. “Inviting me out with you this afternoon. Offering me a dress. Inviting us to Lady Simmington’s party.”

“Why, it is because I like you,” Francesca answered. “Why would I have any ulterior motive?”

“I cannot imagine,” Constance retorted candidly. “But neither can I believe that you spotted me or my aunt and cousins across the great hall at Lady Welcombe’s and were so enchanted with us that you had Lady Welcombe introduce us to you.”

Francesca looked consideringly at Constance, then sighed. “Very well. You are right. I had a reason for meeting you. I do like you—you are a very pleasant young woman, and you have a certain laughing look to your eyes that I know means you see the humor in the world. I would like to be your friend. But that is not why I came over to meet you. The fact is…I made a wager with someone.”

“A wager?” Constance stared at her, dumbfounded. “About me? But what? Why?”

“I was boasting. I should learn to mind my tongue,” Francesca admitted in a vexed tone. “Rochford had the gall to challenge me. And, well, the fact is that I bet that I could find you a husband before the end of the Season.”

Constance’s jaw dropped. For a moment she could think of nothing to say.

“I am sorry,” Francesca said earnestly, leaning forward to lay a placating hand on Constance’s arm. “I know I should not have, and I regretted it as soon as it was done. And you have every right to be angry with me. But I beg you will not. I did not mean you any harm. I still do not.”

“Not mean me any harm!” A variety of emotions rushed through Constance, hurt followed almost immediately by anger and resentment. “No, of course not. Why should I mind that I am held up to ridicule by the leaders of the Ton?”

“Ridicule!” Lady Haughston looked at her with alarm and concern. “No, how can you think that?”

“What else am I to think when I have been made the object of a public wager?”

“Oh, no, no. It was not public at all. It was between Rochford and me alone. No one else was privy to it, I assure you. Well, except Lucien,” she added honestly. “But he is my closest friend, and I can assure you that he would never tell a soul. He knows the secrets of half the Ton. I promise you that I shall not spread it about, and I can assure you that Rochford will not tell anyone. A tighter-lipped man I have never met.” She looked rather exasperated at the fact.

“And is that supposed to make it all right?” Constance asked. She had liked Francesca, and now she felt betrayed. Though she had had her reasonable doubts, she found it was a lowering thought indeed that Lady Haughston had not sought out her friendship but was only using her as a test of her matchmaking skills. “Why was I chosen? Was I the most unmarriageable of all the women at the ball? Too plain and old for any man ever to wish to marry me?”

“No, please, you must not think that!” Francesca exclaimed, her lovely features tightening in distress. “Oh, I have made such a muddle of this. The truth is, we made the wager, and then Rochford chose the woman. When he picked you, I was greatly relieved, for I had thought he was going to give me one of your cousins, and that would have been a formidable task, indeed. I am not sure why he chose you, other than that you were so clearly relegated to the background by your aunt and cousins that he must have been sure that I would get no help from them in bringing you out.”

“That is certainly true.” Constance could not keep the bitterness from her voice.

“My dearest Constance—I hope you will not mind if I call you that.” Francesca slipped her gloved hand into Constance’s and squeezed it gently. “I knew at once that he had foolishly chosen the easiest of you to turn into a belle. It is very difficult to give a person wit or beauty when they have none. But a want of fortune is not the hardest thing to overcome, at least when it is accompanied by style, intelligence, and a lovely face and figure.”