Notorious Rake, Innocent Lady

‘It is true. I cannot deny any scrap of it. Our pockets are to let. We need Oswalt’s offer.’

‘There must be another way! I do not love him. I will not grow to love him. He is a despicable old man to buy a bride in this way.’ Julia gave her tongue free rein, not caring that Oswalt sat feet away, absorbed in his nail picking.

‘Julia! Hush. This outburst is most unladylike,’ her uncle admonished. He craned his neck to speak around her and she could see the fear in his eyes that Oswalt would retract his offer at the display of her temper.

Julia put her hands on her hips, ready to do battle. ‘What about Cousin Gray’s ship? Surely the payoff from that cargo will see our problems resolved.’

‘Gray’s venture is fraught with risk. It is a gamble. I would rather bet on a sure thing.’ Uncle Barnaby gave her a terse scolding. ‘Remember your manners, Julia. It is not good ton to speak of money in company.’

‘You don’t seem to mind. You and Oswalt have divided me up like so many stock dividends on the exchange.’ The comment went beyond the pale, but if a temper tantrum got her out of this unholy arrangement, then so be it.

Oswalt was not fazed. He gave Julia all his attention. ‘Ah, I’ve got myself a cinnamon-haired virago, have I? Perhaps all that hot blood is what I need to warm myself. My dear, I welcome your passion and I care not a whit if you love me. I certainly don’t love you, nor do I intend to cultivate affection for you. I merely need a well-bred virgin in my bed from a family who will accept my offer. All that aside, it will be exciting to tame you to my hand. Should all go well with my physician, I’ll have a special licence in hand by week’s end and we’ll be wed by Sunday.’

‘My wife will want to give the wedding breakfast,’ Uncle Barnaby put in, relaxing again now that the deal had not been retracted.

Oswalt gave a gracious nod. ‘My new bride will enjoy a last chance to associate with family and friends before we depart.’ He fixed Julia with a crawling stare filled with a wealth of meaning. ‘I will have no desire to stay in London, where the pleasures of the Season might detract from our marriage. We will journey promptly to my country home in the Lake District. It’s very remote and well supplied. We won’t be bothered by outside interruptions. Once we have good news to share, I will return to town.’

Julia swallowed hard. His libidinous intent was clear. She was to be locked away in the country. Her only task in life would be to service his base needs and produce an heir for his cit’s fortune. She was nineteen and her life was about to be over.

She gave them each a curt nod of her head. ‘I give you good day’, then she turned hard on her heel and exited the room before either of them could see the fright they’d wrought in her with their thoughtless negotiations.

Once in her room, Julia locked the door and leaned against its solid oak panelling, taking comfort from the thickness of the wood. The little ormolu clock on the table beneath the window suggested the whole reprehensible interview had taken a short twenty minutes. It was barely eleven o’clock in the morning and her life was nearly ruined. The good news was that her life was only ‘nearly’ ruined.

It could have been worse, she supposed. Oswalt and her uncle could have signed the contracts already. Oswalt could have arrived with a licence and vicar in tow and married her in the study.

Julia shuddered and thought uncharitably that the scenario was unlikely since his coveted physician wouldn’t have been on hand to certify her virginal status. Five days. That was all the time left to her, barring the unforeseen circumstance that the physician return to town earlier or that Mortimer Oswalt’s need for haste caused him to engage another physician who wasn’t on holiday.

This was a time for action unless she reconciled herself to a life under Oswalt’s rule and hoped he didn’t live very long. It was clear from events in the study that neither protests nor legislation would avail her now. It was true, a law had been passed that allowed people to marry without parental consent, but it didn’t prevent parental arrangement of her marriage to another.

Her uncle’s financial situation had been made painfully clear as well as the reason for her Season in London. She was the one thing her uncle had left to pawn. He’d used her on the Marriage Mart to garner an offer that would save the family from penury.

Not for the first time, Julia cursed her unusual beauty. Ever since she’d turned fourteen and started to come into her womanly form, her looks had held an appeal for men that she could not understand. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a normal girl with green eyes that tilted up slightly at the corners, a mouth that might be described as wide, and a heap of red-brown curls her cousins often teased looked like the hue of autumn leaves. But there’d been local callers aplenty at the Grange where they lived when she started receiving last Christmas and her dance card had been full at the local assemblies. It had been the same in London after her presentation at court.

She knew, although it was difficult to admit, that this proposal from Oswalt wasn’t the first time her uncle had used her looks to ward off a financial situation. It had never been as dire as it was now, but he’d sent her to the village on several occasions, telling her to talk to the merchants to whom he owed money, to see if they’d extend his credit a little longer.

Julia paced the chamber, her fright giving way to anger. She would not allow herself be used again in such a shameless manner. They would have to tie her up and drag her from this house in order to see her wed to Oswalt. She stopped pacing. It would come to exactly that, she was sure of it. Dragging her to the altar, literally, would be just one of the many indignities she would be put through this week if she remained.

Her options hit her with startling clarity. If she stayed at her uncle’s rented town house as a virginal dеbutante, she would have no way to fight her wedding to Oswalt. There was nothing for it. She would have to find a way on her own to break the contract. There would be severe consequences, but she would suffer them.

Immediately, her mind raced over her options. The most obvious option was to run away. Where could she go? Who could help her? She sat down on the bed and sighed. She had no answers to any of those questions, but it hardly mattered. She was far too bright to ignore the reality. If she was discovered at any point, she would be brought back to London and forced to fulfil her uncle’s contract.

No, running away wasn’t a valid choice. Julia prided herself on being practical. If she was honest now, she had to admit that the prospect of successfully eluding Oswalt, who would most likely hire professionals to hunt her down, was a slim one indeed. She had learned much during her short time in London, but she had not learned enough to hide herself indefinitely, or at least until her twenty-fourth birthday, which marked the end of her uncle’s guardianship. Even then, she wasn’t certain being four and twenty would nullify her uncle’s contract with Oswalt.

She stood up and started pacing again. ‘Think, Julia, think. How do you get out of the contract?’ She mumbled to herself. She could use the 1823 legislation and marry another. Her uncle couldn’t stop her. She discarded that notion immediately. Where would she find a husband in five days who would be willing to risk marriage against a pre-existing contract?

A husband might be too ambitious on short notice, but one didn’t need a husband to be ruined. She could cast aspersions on her suitability. That option might work. A plan began to form.

There was a rout tonight at Lady Moffat’s. It would be well attended and many of the beaus who made up her court would be there. She would lure one of them out on to the terrace, coax a walk in the garden, flirt with him a bit and make sure they were found in a compromising situation.

Yes.

No.

Julia shook her head. The only way that would work would be if Oswalt cried off in the heat of his anger over being cuckolded before the ink dried on the contract. He might not care. He might not believe her and insist on the examination anyway and the physician would discover her hoax. The idea left too much to chance. Besides, even in her dire straits, she couldn’t lower herself to be like her uncle and use an innocent pawn in a deceitful game. She couldn’t countenance one of her swains being used so poorly at her whim.

She must be thoroughly ruined in order to ensure the contract would be void. She must be ruined tonight and back in the morning to prove it. Then Oswalt would be thwarted in a very final manner. Julia tapped a finger on her chin. How did one get ruined quickly?

There was prostitution, of course. She could saunter into Covent Garden and offer herself to the first man who came along. But that wasn’t much of an option. She knew from a stern lecture she’d accidentally over-heard Cousin Gray give his younger brothers about the importance of being selective in ‘satisfying their urges’ that people could get infected with sexually related diseases. Unfortunately, Gray had seen her before she could learn much more. But while all the nuances of catching such a disease were beyond her realm of knowledge, she didn’t think it was much of a trade to risk infection and what Gray had termed as ‘certain lingering death’ for being Oswalt’s enslaved wife. At least with Oswalt, there was the chance he would die soon. With the other, there was no chance of any redemption on the horizon.

Common prostitution might be out of the question, but the direction was correct. Julia turned at the wall and paced another length of the room, veering around the bed to the window. She’d also heard vague, scandalous references from her male cousins regarding brothels that held virgin auctions. That was a distinct possibility. She didn’t know precisely what such an event entailed, but she would definitely be compromised.

Julia’s stomach clenched and she experienced a wave of nausea at the import of what she meant to do. Could she go through with it? Could she give herself to an unknown man? Would that be any better than the indignities Oswalt’s proposal forced upon her?

The truth was, she found her options as abhorrent as marriage to Oswalt. It was positively terrifying to imagine the consequences of her choices. If she chose to run away, she’d be running away from a lot more than Oswalt. She’d be shut out of society for ever. No one would dare countenance a friendship with a woman who had done what she was contemplating. There would be no husband or children of her own in the future. Such action could not be erased. Her family would have nothing to do with her. After this, she would be irrevocably on her own.

She would be free. Entirely left to her own devices.

Julia sat down hard on the bed, momentarily stunned by the revelation. Freedom had suddenly become quite expensive. It was clear now that freedom would cost her more than embarrassment at a brothel and an uncomfortable confrontation with her uncle. Those things would be over in a week. But she would keep paying for the rest of her life, and life, the way she knew it, would be over for good.

Her life would be over for good with Oswalt, too. No matter what she chose to do, it was a certainty that everything was going to change irrevocably this week. She was at a crossroads whether she wanted this to be so or not. She wished Cousin Gray was here to talk things through with her. But Julia supposed she’d better get used to being alone and relying on no one but herself. It was going to be her lot in life. Today might be the last day she had to decide her fate. Would she put her faith in her own capabilities to make her way in the world or would she put herself into Oswalt’s hands?

Better the devil you know? Not this time. She would summon her courage and take matters into her own hands.

Resigned and more than a little bit frightened, Julia bit her lip and began to think through the only choice open to her. It would have to be the auction. In her mind’s eye, she could see her strategy unfolding.

She would convince her aunt and uncle that she was accepting, even glad of the decision they’d made on her behalf. She would call for the carriage and tell her aunt and uncle that she wanted to share the good news of her betrothal with her friend, Elise Farraday. Hmm. She’d better make sure of the weather first.

Julia drew aside the curtains at the window and peered outside. Good. The morning fog was clearing away to reveal a blue sky of late spring. The driver would believe her if she asked to be dropped a few streets from Elise’s home in order to walk and enjoy the lovely day. Then she would make her escape and wend her way through the streets to Covent Garden and from there to the finer brothels of London where she’d make her plea. By morning she would be ruined.

By a stranger.

In humiliating circumstances.

From which there would be no turning back.

It was a plan.

It was her only choice.

Only?

The word gave Julia pause. As a rule, she did not believe in dichotomous thinking. Life was far too complicated to narrow the world’s complexities into a mere two categories of black and white, yes and no, true or false, do or do not.

Was there another way? A more private way? Julia felt cowardly to even consider it, but perhaps there was a way to be ruined and to preserve discovery unless forced to reveal her fate beyond the confines of her uncle’s contract? If so, she’d much prefer it to the public exposure of an auction and the risk of someone recognising her, the risk of being revealed before the deed could be accomplished. The spark of a counter-plan flickered to life in the back of her mind and gathered impetus.

Another way.

Another man.