Bartered Bride

‘My aunt has a large and fat tabby that she adores,’ Lottie said and laughed. She had taken to the young maid and was pleased that Rose was to look after her. ‘I must go down now for the gong sounded five minutes ago. I do not wish to keep the marquis waiting.’

She went out, leaving Rose to tidy up. It would take a little time to get used to the idea of a maid waiting on her. At home they had a cook and one maid of all work, also Muffet, who had come with Aunt Beth and would turn her hand to anything. This meant that Lottie was accustomed to doing dusting and kept her own room tidy. She often cleaned her aunt’s room, too. Living here with so many servants to care for just her and the marquis would seem strange—though of course they would probably entertain friends much of the time.

Lottie realised that she was beginning to rather like the idea of living in this wonderful house. She wrinkled her brow, because if she went through with this deception it would mean living a lie for the rest of her life.

Was she cheating the marquis?

She could not help feeling a little guilty. When she had taken Clarice’s place, Lottie had tried not to question her motives or admit that she was doing something underhand—and when the marquis first greeted her so arrogantly, he had made her angry and she had felt he deserved all he got. However, her conscience was beginning to nag her. Perhaps she ought to tell him the truth before things went too far?

She was wearing a gown of green silk that evening. It had a dipping neckline, but was not low enough to show the little mole just above her right breast. Lottie was very conscious of the fact that in the more revealing gowns that Clarice wore it would have been easy to see that she did not have such a blemish.

As she approached the bottom stair, she was aware that the marquis had come out of the room to the right of the hall and was gazing up at her.

‘I was about to send someone in search of you, Lottie.’

‘Oh…’ She blushed. ‘Forgive me. I did not mean to keep you waiting for your dinner. I was talking with Rose and forgot the time.’

‘Talking with Rose…you mean the parlour maid?’

‘She is looking after me. We were talking about cats and dogs. Rose’s mother prefers dogs, but Aunt Beth loves her cat—’ Lottie broke off and laughed. ‘You will think the subject obsesses me. I am sure you are used to far more stimulating conversation in London. I fear I do not know any amusing tales of the Regent to tell you. I have never mixed much in society…’ She realised that she had made a mistake. ‘Apart from the trip to Paris with Papa, of course.’

‘You seemed perfectly at home there.’ His brows met in the middle. ‘Tell me, Lottie—is this an act for my benefit? If so, you are wasting your time. I am not a fool and my memory works perfectly.’

‘I would never think you a fool, my lord…’ She sensed there was a deeper meaning behind his words and wondered whether he had seen through her disguise. Clarice had sworn she had met him only once and that he would not know the difference between them, but was there something her sister wasn’t telling her about her time with the marquis? She crossed her fingers behind her back. ‘I am not sure I understand you?’

‘No, then perhaps I should refresh—’ He turned his head as the butler came into the hall. ‘Yes, yes, Mann. We are coming now.’ His eyes narrowed as he looked at Lottie once more. ‘We shall speak of this another time. Dinner is ready and Cook will not be best pleased if we keep her waiting.’

‘No, that would not do at all,’ Lottie said and laid her fingers tentatively on the arm he offered. ‘I think it would be best if we talked soon, my lord. I believe there is something I ought to—’

A loud knocking at the door interrupted Lottie. The footman opened it and a lady entered, accompanied by several servants and a small King Charles spaniel, which barked noisily and jumped from her arms to rush towards Nicolas. He bent down and stroked it behind the ears, looking at the new arrival with rueful amusement.

‘Henri! You can hardly have had my letter more than a day. I intended to invite you to stay, of course, but this is a surprise.’

‘A pleasant one, I hope?’ The diminutive lady laughed confidently up at him. ‘I decided this morning I would visit you and here I am—and this young lady must be your intended bride?’ The lady bustled towards Lottie, exuding lavender and a warmth that seemed to envelop all she touched. ‘You are Miss Stanton? I am delighted to meet you. I have waited for this day too long.’ She laughed and seized Lottie’s hand, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘You are wondering who the devil I am, of course. This wretched godson of mine has not thought to introduce us—Henrietta, Countess of Selby. You may call me Henrietta.’

‘Ma’am…’ Lottie made a slight curtsy. ‘I am very pleased to meet you.’

‘And I you, though I really know very little about you my dear, not even your name?’

‘It’s Clarice, but everyone calls me Lottie.’

‘Well, it suits you, though I did not think your name was Charlotte?’

‘Clarice’s second name is Charlotte, which is why she often goes by Lottie. Anyway, enough chatter, Henri. We are late for dinner. Will you join us—or shall I have something sent up to you on a tray in half an hour or so?’

‘I shall rest this evening and will take a little soup in my room,’ she replied. ‘You may come in and see me for a few moments before you retire, Lottie—if it will be no trouble to you?’

‘No trouble at all, ma’am.’

‘Then I shall not keep you longer. Nicolas has a decent cook. You will not wish to lose her…’ She looked behind her, summoning a woman who looked as if she might be her companion. ‘Give me your arm, Millicent. That staircase looks daunting after a day spent travelling.’

‘You will become used to her,’ Nicolas said as his godmother began her colourful ascent of the stairs, her servants fluttering around her, the spaniel bounding ahead up the stairs. ‘Henri usually takes over the house when she arrives—though she has not stayed here often since…’ He shook his head. ‘Dinner awaits and we are now very late. We shall talk later.’

‘You must be very fond of her?’

‘I have many relations, but she is the only one I care for.’

‘I see…’ Lottie wondered what he had been going to say before his godmother arrived, but no doubt he would tell her later.

As it happened, Lottie did not learn what had been in the marquis’s mind that evening. Dinner had been served in what was more usually the breakfast room because, as he explained, there were so few of them.

‘Tomorrow evening I shall invite some of our neighbours,’ he said as they all rose at the end of the meal. ‘I had intended a period of quiet time for us to get to know one another, Lottie—but now that the countess has seen fit to join us we must entertain.’

‘Please do stay and enjoy some port,’ Lottie said. ‘You need not accompany me to the drawing room. I think I shall visit your godmother and then go to bed. If I want a drink, I am sure Mrs Mann will have a tray sent up.’

‘As you wish.’ Nicolas frowned. ‘I had thought we might talk?’

‘Tomorrow morning if you wish,’ Lottie said. ‘I am a little tired myself and would wish to retire after I have visited the countess.’

‘Very well,’ he replied, inclining his head.

Lottie sensed that he was not best pleased. She was not sure why she was putting off the evil moment, because she could surely not delay it much longer.

It would be embarrassing, but there was really no alternative. Lottie had been feeling guilty enough about deceiving the marquis himself, even though he did deserve it in a way, but to deceive the lady who had just arrived would be unforgivable.

She would simply go in for a few minutes and explain that she was too tired to talk this evening. It was clear that the countess expected an intimate heart to heart, but that could not happen. Not until Lottie had told the marquis the truth.

If he truly had no preference for her sister, he might be satisfied with her in Clarice’s place—but he must be given the choice.

Nicolas frowned over his brandy. He had offered to give Sir Charles a game of billiards but his future father-in-law had declined. They had talked in a desultory fashion of the King’s madness, which had resulted in the prince being called on to become the Regent once more, then discussed the price of corn and the weather. Then, after smoking a cigar, Sir Charles had excused himself and gone to his room.

Nicolas sat on alone in his library. He was not sure why his thoughts were so disordered. The day had not gone as he expected at all and he was still undecided what to do about the situation he had created.

He should, of course, have spoken to Sir Charles as soon as he realised what a fool he had been, made some settlement and withdrawn. It was clearly too late now. Bertie would have spread the news all over the neighbourhood—besides, Henrietta had rushed here as soon as she had his letter. The delight on her face when she saw his fiancée had struck him to the heart.

Lottie gave the appearance of being a modest charming woman, exactly the kind of person who would grace his home and make his relatives welcome. He knew that at heart she was a scheming adventuress, but for the moment she seemed determined to play the part of an innocent—why? What could she hope to gain?

His fingers drummed against the arm of his comfortable wing chair. What a dilemma! And he had only himself to blame. He frowned as he recalled the laughing words he had overheard outside the parlour—so she had a fancy to become the next marchioness, had she?

Well, would it be so bad? He had considered she would do before he had witnessed the theft of those guineas. It was that that rankled, he admitted—and the suspicion that she had been making love with—or at least been prepared to be seduced by—Ralph.

The thing was that he found he did not dislike Lottie. He was not sure he could trust her—and he would have to send her father packing after the wedding. Yet he did need a wife and if Henrietta liked her…he supposed she would do.

Nicolas groaned. He was such an idiot to have become embroiled with a pair of adventurers.

Why did he have the feeling that Lottie was playing a part? Had she decided to reform her ways now that she had a chance to move up in society?

Nicolas knew that he would not find it difficult to play his part in this strange marriage. It would be no hardship to make love to her—and her morals could be no worse than some of the ladies he had made his mistresses in the past. His last mistress had been grasping and selfish, which was why he had felt no remorse in finishing his arrangement with her. He would at least start his marriage without a clandestine attachment. He would certainly not tolerate being played false by his wife. If she imagined he would turn a blind eye to any future indiscretions, she would soon discover her mistake!