The Marriage Wager (9 page)

“So,” she said accusingly when she entered the drawing room.

Colin turned from the window, where he had been observing the coaches passing in the street. “Good afternoon, Mother,” he replied. He was still immaculate in pale pantaloons and a dark green coat, his neckcloth a perfect Oriental. “You look well.”

“I do not,” replied the baroness, irritated by his refusal to acknowledge her dramatic manner.

Colin raised his dark eyebrows.

“I am prostrate with anxiety,” added his mother pettishly.

“Indeed. Do you wish to lie down?”

“No!”

“But if you are prostrate…?”

“Colin! Stop trying to goad me by pretending that all is as usual. I insist upon discussing this impossible engagement of yours.”

“I am here to discuss my engagement,” he acknowledged.

“Well, there is only one thing to be said about it. It must be broken off immediately. It is the most scandalously unsuitable, ridiculously—”

“Before you say more, Mother, I should warn you that I fully intend to go ahead with this marriage.”

It was like running into a wall, thought the baroness, trying to control her temper. One had just about the same chance of having an effect. “And that is that?” she asked. “Without hearing my opinion, without consulting your family, or indeed, anyone?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said, with a slight smile.

His mother’s jaw set. “You have not heard what I have to tell you about this woman,” she continued.

“I don’t think there is anything you can tell me that I do not know,” was his calm reply.

Though this idea rattled her a bit, the baroness refused to give up. “Really? Did you know that it is almost certain her first marriage was an elopement? And that her husband was fleeing England because he could not pay his debts of honor? He left unpaid bills all across London. They spent their life in gaming hells, and I have just today learned that her husband was killed in a filthy tavern brawl, over a game of dice he had fallen into with a common carter.” She crossed her arms on her chest and gazed at him as if daring him to contradict her.

Colin looked calmly back. “You have made a strong case against Edward Tarrant,” he said. “And I agree that the man must have been a thorough blackguard. But I don’t see what that has to do with Emma.”

“Don’t…?” The baroness struggled for words. “A woman who has lived in that way? A creature of gaming hells and low alehouses? A ruined, grasping—”

“Mother!”

His voice was like a whiplash; she clamped her lips shut on further epithets.

“Your excuse must be that you have never met her,” said Colin more gently. “Emma is very little touched by the life she was forced to lead. It’s remarkable, really.”

“She
has
bewitched you,” exclaimed the baroness. “She has used her wiles to addle your wits.”

“On the contrary…”

“She did not scruple to visit your house,” snapped his mother. “And
before
there was any talk of engagement, I would note.”

Colin went very still. Foolishly, he had not expected this. “You are mistaken,” he said coolly.

His mother felt a surge of triumph. Finally, she had penetrated past his infuriating, imperturbable surface. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I have it on the best authority.”

“You have been
mis
informed,” he said.

“I have not. Crane had it directly from…” She stopped and flushed slightly.

“Servants’ gossip, Mother? I hadn’t thought it of you.”

“Yes, well…”

“Did Crane’s ‘informants’ give you my visitor’s name? Was she known to them?”

“No, but the description was quite detailed and—”

“Misleading,” he declared.

“Are you trying to tell me that you had some other female in your house only days before you offered for this… this…”

“I am telling you to cease this interference,” he replied. “The matter has come up between us before.” He was terrifically angry, Colin realized dispassionately. The threat had roused every defensive instinct.

“Will you abandon your family for a woman with no background, a creature of the gaming hells and—”

“Emma is as wellborn as you,” he said crisply.

The baroness’s head jerked back. It was a sore point with her that she was the child of a mere country squire, with no pretensions to nobility. The subject was not customarily mentioned, and she could not believe he had brought it up.

“She is intelligent, well-mannered, with a strong natural dignity,” he went on. “You will accustom yourself to the idea that we will be married. And you will not”— he fixed her with an icy gaze—“not repeat any gossip about her. Is that clear?”

His mother blinked. Colin did not sound like a man enmeshed in the toils of passion. Could she have misjudged the situation after all? “I do not understand you,” she complained.

“Very true,” he agreed blandly.

“I have presented every eligible girl in the
ton
to you,” she wailed. “A number of them were
quite
ravishing, and all of them were above reproach. Any one would have been overjoyed to receive an offer. Why must you—”

“As you pointed out, you do not understand me,” he answered. “Now, let me tell you about the plans I have made.”

The baroness sank onto the sofa, her plump face creased into petulant lines. “You are the most annoying person, Colin.”

“Doubtless,” he said, brushing this perennial complaint aside. “Great-Aunt Celia is giving a dinner to celebrate the engagement Wednesday week.”

“Aunt Celia is taking your side in this?” His mother looked uneasy.

“She has… come to appreciate my point of view.” He did not tell her that their formidable relative had made her help completely probationary. Or that she had said, “Mind you, young jackanapes, if I don’t care for the girl, I’ll put an end to the match. And if you think I can’t, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

“How could she?” complained the baroness.

“All the family will be invited,” Colin continued. “And I shall expect them to attend.”

“We couldn’t refuse an invitation from Celia,” she said faintly.

Which was exactly why he had gone to her, thought Colin. “Afterward, we will attend the Cardingtons’ ball together,” he told her. “Will you ask Lady Cardington to include Emma among her guests?”

“Ask her?” exclaimed the baroness. “She will fall over herself to invite her. Do you have any idea of the gossip you have stirred up, Colin? Felicity Cardington will be the envy of every other hostess in London if she has you and your… intended at her ball.”

Colin nodded, his mouth tight.

“I suppose you realize that we will be the targets of rude stares and every fool who fancies himself a wit?” she added pettishly.

“It can’t be helped,” he said. “We must just see that the talk dies down as soon as possible.”

“But—”

“I expect your help in this, Mother,” he warned.

“I don’t—”

“And Caroline’s as well.”

“You want us to help you ruin yourself?” she complained.

“On the contrary, Mother. On the contrary.”

She watched him, puzzled by the look on his face. “Do you care for this woman, Colin? Is there something that you’re not telling me?”

“She will do very well,” he replied.

“That does not answer my question.”

“It is all the answer you will get.”

“I declare I hardly know you anymore, Colin,” said his mother peevishly. “It is the war, I suppose. It has changed you.”

“I believe it has,” he acknowledged. “But if your memory suggests that before the war I allowed you to order me about, it is seriously flawed, Mother.”

“You have been impossible since you were eight years old,” she complained. “I remember distinctly the day you turned to me, with precisely that superior look on your face, and informed me that you did not wish to see boiled carrots on your plate ever again.” She sniffed. “Independent, your father called it. Headstrong and ungovernable is nearer the truth.”

He smiled very slightly. “Good day, Mother. Until Wednesday.”

“Colin!” But he left the room without acknowledging her protest. “Arrogant, too,” said the baroness. “Not to mention incredibly irritating.” She vented her frustration on a small embroidered footstool, kicking it aside as she stalked from the room.

***

Emma carefully restacked the pile of coins and banknotes she had set out on the small table in her bedchamber. The last time she had contemplated marriage, she thought, she had had her own secure income of six hundred a year and very little understanding of money. This time, her entire fortune consisted of four hundred seventy-nine pounds and some odd shillings, most of it won from the fat woman at Barbara Rampling’s card party, and she had become a frugal and efficient manager of her funds. She fingered the two pieces of jewelry she had been able to keep through the downward progress of her life—a modest string of pearls she had inherited from her mother and an exquisite cameo brooch in tints of peach and ivory that had belonged to her wealthy grandmother. She had sold her wedding ring in Constantinople to pay Edward’s final debts, which had seemed to her a suitably symbolic gesture.

Emma swept the money into her reticule and put the jewelry away. It was not much on which to rig herself out like a baroness, but she had great faith in her own powers of contrivance. As she moved toward the door, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and gave it a wry smile. Two things she had learned in recent years—gambling, and how to clothe herself stylishly on nearly nothing.

Finding Arabella in the drawing room, she inquired about shops. When the older woman began to name some of the fashionable Bond Street establishments, Emma shook her head. “Not where the
ton
goes. I cannot pay for an address. There must be other places.”

“Well, I have heard that one can get things very cheap at the Pantheon Bazaar,” replied Arabella doubtfully. “But I have never been there.”

“We shall take a look,” said Emma cheerfully. “That is, if you care to come with me?”

“Do you think it’s safe?” wondered Arabella.

“Ferik will be with us. No one has ever dared accost me with him present.”

“I suppose not,” she replied doubtfully. Arabella had not developed a fondness for Ferik. “But will you really find anything suitable in such a place?”

Emma smiled. “I will tell you a secret, Aunt. Cities are full of interesting places where the fashionable people never go. There are thousands of respectable women in London who cannot afford to shop in Bond Street—wives of barristers and shopkeepers. I wager they have no trouble buying a length of fine muslin or some trimming for a gown.”

Arabella looked shocked. “You cannot think to dress like a shopkeeper’s wife?”

“No. But I may use the same materials. Come, I’ll show you.”

Arabella went to fetch her hat. Knowing that it would take her some time to prepare to go out, Emma used the opportunity to summon Ferik to the drawing room.

“Yes, mistress?” he said in his deep voice a few minutes later. Entering the room, and immediately making it seem much smaller, he stood like a great bronze statue beside the open door.

“Ferik, I am going to be married,” said Emma.

He took this in without reaction.

“To the gentleman who was here this morning,” she added.

“The English milord with the wonderful eyes?” he inquired.

“Er… well, yes.” Emma gazed up at him in amazement. “What do you know of his eyes, Ferik?”

“Ellen says it,” he informed her.

“Ah.” Ellen was one of the housemaids.

“He is rich?” asked the giant.

Emma allowed that he was.

“And an important bey?”

“Well, he is a nobleman,” agreed Emma, not certain about Turkish equivalents.

Ferik nodded, looking satisfied. “That is good. You should be married to a great man, who can give you many jewels and a fine house. He has no other wife?”

“Other…?” Emma recalled that in Ferik’s home country, men were allowed more than one. She had found the idea quite shocking when she first heard of it. “No,” she said firmly. “No other wife.”

“Then you will be chief wife,” he replied complacently. “That is very good. I will head your household.”

“Men have only one wife in England,” Emma felt obliged to tell him. “And the household is all the same. You will remain my servant, of course, but Baron St. Mawr has a staff already, and you will have to get along with them.” This last came out somewhat sternly. There had been incidents with Arabella’s servants.

“One wife!” exclaimed Ferik. “But you said he was rich.”

“He is.”

“So, then, he could provide for more than one wife, mistress?”

“I… I suppose he could,” said Emma. “If he wished to.”

“All men wish to,” Ferik assured her. “But of course not all can afford more than one.” He scowled. “Perhaps this man is not as rich as he tells you,” he added suspiciously.

“He is quite wealthy, Ferik, but—”

“Then he will wish for another wife.” Ferik nodded. “Not now. And none will ever be as noble and lovely as you, mistress, but someday he will.”

“Men can have only one wife in England, Ferik,” Emma repeated loudly.

He frowned at her.

“One,” she insisted.

“No matter how rich they are?” inquired Ferik.

“No matter.”

“Even if they could buy a dozen houses and a thousand slaves?”

She was not going to get into the issue of slaves, Emma thought. “That’s right,” she responded firmly.

Ferik looked bewildered. His huge hands were open and raised to the ceiling in helpless amazement. “But, mistress, that isn’t fair.”

“It is the way things are,” declared Emma. “Now, we are going—”

“It isn’t right to cheat a man of the rewards of his wealth.” The giant spoke with sweet reasonableness, as if he had only to point out this truth to have her see the light.

Emma had no wish to argue moral principles. “It is against the law,” she said with finality.

“The law?” He looked astonished. “What law?”

“The law of England. Ferik, I have told you many times that England is very different from your country,” she pointed out in her own defense.