Bartered Bride

‘Do you allow others to feed your swans?’ Lottie asked. His comment could be taken for silent consent that she was a beautiful lady, or a snub. She would ignore it for the moment. ‘I should have brought food had I known how tame they are.’

‘You should not be fooled by their docile appearance. They hoped to be fed, but swans can be vicious at times. One of my keepers had his arm broken by a male swan guarding its mate—and one of the pairs on the lake have young. However, if you insist on feeding them yourself, please give them the special pellets we use rather than bread. My bailiff will show you where the supply is stored—or one of the footmen will fetch it for you.’

‘Thank you. I shall be careful to do nothing to alarm them,’ Lottie replied. She was still walking with her hand on Sir Bertie’s arm, but the marquis was at her right hand. ‘Do you have deer in the park, my lord?’

‘I believe there may be a few. I rarely visit Rothsay Manor, Lottie. I prefer to live in London for most of the year. Unlike Bertie, I do not enjoy either hunting or shooting, though my keepers encourage the pheasants and we have a regular supply for the table in season.’

‘There are certainly deer in my park,’ Sir Bertie told her. ‘Do you ride, Miss Lottie?’

‘I should—had I a suitable mount,’ Lottie replied, turning to look at him. ‘At home a neighbour sometimes takes pity on me. My father keeps only one hunter and his carriage horses.’

‘I should be happy to provide you with a suitable mount,’ Sir Bertie said. ‘My mother occasionally rides and I keep a horse for her—but I have another I believe might suit you. You can stable Heavenly here and then, should you wish, ride over to Greenacres with Rothsay or a groom.’

‘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?’