The Bellerose Bargain (18 page)

He frowned slightly at her language but appreciated very much the sight of her pushing the frame away from her chair and standing. She must surely like to primp, he thought. He never found her less than perfectly gowned and coiffed. He forced himself to remember that there was nothing about their relationship that was anything but business. He tried to consider her one of his staff; someone he was paying to do a chore.

"How have you been?" she asked.

"Quite well. I understand you’ve had some trouble."

"Trouble?" she asked, looking puzzled.

"At the ‘Change. Something stolen?"

She looked away. "There was nothing of value taken. The thieves are running the streets. I won’t go out as often."

"You go out hardly at all as it is."

"By your request, my lord," she reminded him.

"Yes, of course. Well, I have only a little time but I think since the weather is warmer now we should travel to the country to look over the land Fergus Bellamy left. I’d like to see it sold before very long."

"I’ve been told there are revenues to be had from the land since there’s farming there. Are you sure you wouldn’t do better to keep it?"

"I’d rather get rid of what was the Bellamys and begin building for the Seaverses."

Alicia looked at him closely. "And who will that be, my lord?"

His confused look answered her, and then, as he caught her meaning, he turned away from her.

"There should be no reason why we can’t talk, my lord. Tell me who you think will be ‘The Seavers Family.’"

He responded with a mumble and she took two paces to touch his shoulder and turn him around. "I imagine I’ll marry someday." And then at the pained look in her eyes, he pleaded, "Alicia, please, don’t do this."

"Will you look for yet another rich woman?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I shouldn’t have a great need for money, but there needs to be blood in her name." A heavy sigh escaped him. "Enough blood to satisfy all my dead ancestors."

Alicia turned and walked toward the window, pulling back the heavy velvet drape and looking out. "I wonder..." she started, not looking at him. "I wonder: if I had a noble family, how would you treat me then?"

Geoffrey came up behind her and put his arms on her shoulders. Her curls tickled his nose and her sensuous fragrance tempted his desire. "I think,
cherie,
considering your life before we met, you should be a little grateful for this much. And it would be helpful to me if you would punish me with your sadness a little less."

She turned abruptly, practically into his embrace. "But you are not happy, my lord."

"No, Alicia, my love, I am not. But do you see what I face? I’ve bought this bargain for myself, and the sooner it is done and there is no risk of losing all I’ve struggled to gain, the sooner I can stop fearing discovery." He sighed deeply and his green eyes were sincere. "I will look upon that day with gladness."

"Had you never thought that our bargain need not end? If I were in truth Charlotte Bellamy it would not end—and who could prove otherwise?"

He softly touched her lips with his. "You tempt the saints," he whispered. "But this lie sits ill with me, and a lifetime of it I cannot abide."

"Then there is something of love between us, Geoffrey," she murmured.

"I want you. I do not know love."

"You will chance nothing on it," she told him. "Not a farthing."

His eyes grew dark and his lips fixed in a stern line. "Nothing."

She turned away from him and looked out the window again. His mind was made up and she would not ask him again. But when and if he changed his mind, she would listen.

"How soon can you be prepared to travel?"

"At your convenience, sir."

"Two days?"

"How shall we go and what should I bring?"

"We’ll go by coach. Bring only traveling clothes and essential servants."

"Two days will be fine," she said, turning back to him. The hat he held in his hand was turning in his grasp. "I will be ready."

"Thank you. And good day."

"Geoffrey," she called. He turned to hear her. "Will it be very long before I am—before this is done?"

He looked down, fiddled with his hat a bit more, and then looked up at her. "I think not terribly long. Perhaps by the fall. Are you eager?"

"No," she breathed.

"We may need longer, to assure those—to be certain there is no suspicion."

She nodded and bit her lip, a gesture that caused him to feel some pain. He hated for her to hurt. He could do nothing to help her but perhaps free her soon.

"There have been deaths in the city," she remarked. "They say it’s plague."

"Every death is called plague. It’s nothing."

"It frightens me."

"There are more important things to fear. The Dutch. The truth."

"I don’t fear the truth, my lord. It has never harmed me before."

He put his hat on his head and tapped it once. "This once, Alicia, it could."

The property that had been restored to Fergus Bellamy lay west of London. The roads as far as Newbury were decent, but as the need to leave the well-traveled path and ride slightly northwest arose, the roads became wretched. Geoffrey rode alongside the coach while Rodney sat with the driver. Two horsemen, a meager number for a lord, accompanied the travelers, and Alicia rode within the coach with Margaret, her only servant. All in all, this prestigious family did not travel with as much pomp as usually accompanied nobles, and therefore did not get much recognition along the road. Innkeepers did not bow and scrape at their approach; while Geoffrey would have preferred more attention for himself and those with him, he didn’t get it, since it was not apparent that he was wealthy. He made his journey more in the manner of a tightfisted merchant.

The manor and surrounding land had been called Bellerose when it belonged to the Bellamy family, but the name had fallen away when the last Bellamy to own it, namely Fergus, left it to be looted and taken by someone else.

The road to the manor house was miserable, for it had been a long time since it had been tended. As the coach jounced toward the house, Alicia clung to the seat fighting regular attacks of nausea. "This ‘rose,’" she groaned, "should be a sight to see!"

When they finally halted and she threw open the coach door to look, she sighed with joy. The manor rose in red brick from the ground to four or five stories. The grounds were certainly neglected and tangled, but she could see that among the overgrowth were rosebushes and trees. Having been deprived of a life filled with wealth and castles, and having little other than Whitehall to compare this property to, she thought it beautiful. Her opinion of Whitehall was that it was a slice of city mess she could do without. The country talked to her; spoke her language.

"Bellerose..." she murmured, a smile coming to her lips.

"More thorn than rose," Geoffrey grumbled. "It won’t get a good price at all. Who would want it? I would fain see the villages around it."

"But it’s wonderful!" she insisted, jumping down from the coach without assist. Her slippered feet immediately found mud and she picked up her skirts with a curse. "Drat! I’ve never learned prudence."

Geoffrey indicated the remainder of the road with his hand and smiled at her. "How do you propose to get the rest of the way to the house, madam?"

Alicia formed a pout and looked up at him. "Since there are no gentlemen on this trip, I am in a quandary, sir."

Geoffrey chuckled and dismounted, leaving his hat on the saddlehorn. He sloshed through the mud to where she stood and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the house. The mud rose up his black leather boots and the filth from her gown and shoes scraped against his breeches. "We’ll have a mess to clean up once we get inside."

"I’ve got to preserve my gowns," Alicia told him. "Once you’ve thrown me over for a new baroness, I’ll have no one to buy me clothes."

"You taunt me in my darkest hours," he scolded.

"Finally, my lord," she told him as he mounted the stairs to the landing, "after all these months I feel like a bride."

He set her down quite firmly on the slab, a jolt that caused her to look at him with some disapproval. "I spoke too soon," she grumbled.

Geoffrey couldn’t help laughing at her, for she had held up very well through the whole of the trip. Less than satisfactory lodgings did not upset her—she was used to worse—and never had she complained about their meals or hard traveling. Even the house, which was, in his opinion, a complete disaster, pleased her. Aye, there were advantages to having partnered himself with a resilient tavern wench. She had an honest and delightful excitement and took pleasure over the simplest things, and when he least expected it, she would laugh at their troubles.

"Just keeping you in line, madam," he said with a bow. He looked over his shoulder and saw that Rodney was in a spot because of Geoffrey’s gallant action, for Margaret hovered in the open door of the coach with something of expectation on her face, and Rodney was flushed scarlet at the thought of having to carry her to the house. "Do you imagine he’ll follow suit?"

Alicia looked toward the coach and covered her mouth as she giggled. Geoffrey began pounding on the manor door, while Alicia’s attention was held entirely by Margaret and Rodney as they looked at each other in confusion. At her further laughter, Geoffrey turned. Margaret was not a small woman, and while Rodney was a large man, he had met his match. Though he was prepared to try, it was possible they’d be sprawled in the mud in no time. Even the horsemen were struggling to keep their faces composed.

"Rodney, you fool, make her a chair; use the other men!" Geoffrey shouted.

The ensuing scene brought more mirth, but only from those not participating, namely, Alicia and Geoffrey. The horsemen could not laugh, for they were required to clasp hands between them while Rodney directed Margaret as she left the coach backside first and dropped her large, round bottom on their arms, an action that nearly toppled all four into the muck.

By the time the six of them were safely landed, Alicia was holding her sides and Geoffrey was coughing loudly into his handkerchief. He wished, for a moment, that he’d been raised in the simple life so that he, like Alicia, could laugh openly without the worry of displaying poor breeding.

After a fair amount of pounding and attempting to jar the heavy oaken doors of the manor, it was clear that the place was barred from within, but no one would answer.

"There was to be a caretaker here," Geoffrey grumbled.

"I wager he absconded, milord," Rodney offered. "Dropped the bar in place and went out another door or window."

The women stayed near the front door while the men, properly booted and brave, looked about the rest of the outside of the building. It was quite a long time before the sounds of the board slipping and the hinges squeaking could be heard. Geoffrey stood in the opened door with a sour look on his face, practically glaring at Alicia. "My lady," he crooned sarcastically, "Bellerose."

Alicia gingerly stepped inside. There was dirt nearly as thick inside as out, broken and useless furniture, evidence that animals had roamed through, rags that might have covered windows at one time hanging from the walls, and a smell that would insult the laziest nose. "A rose indeed," Alicia hummed.

She stood with Geoffrey just inside the door while the others wandered through, the men looking upstairs, and Margaret, muttering her disgust, examining the downstairs rooms. Lord and Lady Seavers stood quiet and contemplating for a while, listening to the echoes of footfalls upstairs and Margaret’s moving around downstairs. "How did you get in?" Alicia asked.

"The door to the gardens was not bolted. The caretaker, the good man who was to clean and protect the place, scooted with the money I gave him."

"Was it much?"

"Five pounds, ten more of which he’d get on my arrival when the place was presentable."

Alicia began to laugh.

"Five pounds amuses you, madam?"

She shook her head, but could not stop her laughter. "I imagine it was the easiest five he’s ever earned, and he was quick to see that there was no way to earn the ten you promised."

He put both hands on his hips and stared at her. "And you find that a good jest, eh?"

Giggles overtook her and she blinked away tears as she tried to explain. "This fortune, my lord. You’ve paid so much, so many times over, to have it. A hundred to a wench, more for her gowns and so billed to you by the king, a caretaker that steals, and God knows how many more debts before you can count your gold."

He screwed his face into a pout and looked around. "I admit it’s funny as hell."

Alicia laughed the harder at that. "Not only did you have to marry," she stammered. "You had to capture, educate, dress, and fight your bride."

He looked at her in complete confusion, but she was not intimidated by his stare. While he stared, she controlled her laughter. "Fight?" he asked.

"Aye, my fine lord," she said with a nod.