The Bargain (4 page)
Authors: Mary J. Putney
Jocelyn realized that a toast was in order, but under the circumstances it would be grotesque for anyone to wish the couple health and happiness. In his capacity as best man, Captain Dalton saved the moment. He raised his glass to the newlyweds, looking quite at ease despite the need to balance on his crutches. “To David and Jocelyn. As soon as I saw you together, I knew you were intended for each other.”
Only Jocelyn and David understood the irony of the remark.
After the guests drank, David raised his glass in another toast, saying in a faint, clear voice, “To friends, both present and absent.”
Everyone could drink to that, and the atmosphere took on a tinge of conviviality. Jocelyn kept a wary eye on Sally Lancaster, and was not surprised when the governess said with false sweetness, “Lady Jocelyn, may I speak with you outside for a moment?”
Jocelyn followed her out of the room with resignation. She'd have to deal with her prickly sister-in-law sooner or later, and better that she make the explanations than David. He was obviously tiring rapidly and had hardly touched his champagne.
In the hallway, Sally closed the door before asking sharply, “Would you kindly explain what that was all about? Is it a new fashion for wealthy society ladies to marry dying soldiers, as one would choose a new hat? Will you be telling your friends what an amusing game you have found?”
Jocelyn gasped. If her sister-in-law believed the marriage was the result of some bored, selfish whim, it certainly explained the woman's hostility. Jocelyn thought of the major's warmth and understanding touch, and felt angry that Sally dared accuse her of marrying for such a callous reason.
Her irritation tinged with guilt, Jocelyn said in the icy voice of an earl's daughter, “That is a ridiculous statement and does not dignify an answer. Your brother is an adult. He doesn't need your permission to marry.”
Sally's eyes narrowed like a cat's. “I think you forced him to do it. David has never even mentioned your name! I can't believe he would marry without telling me unless he had no choice.”
Jocelyn realized that the other woman was jealous of her brother's attention, but was irritated enough to say acidly, “Perhaps he knew that you would throw a tantrum and preferred a peaceful ceremony.”
She regretted the comment when Sally's face whitened. More gently she said, “We decided very suddenly, just yesterday. Perhaps there wasn't time to notify you.”
Sally shook her head miserably. “I was here yesterday afternoon. Why wouldn't he want me at his wedding?”
Captain Dalton joined them, apparently guessing that the ladies would need a referee. Closing the door with the tip of one crutch, he said without preamble, “Sally, David did it for you. Lady Jocelyn, with your permission, I will explain the situation.”
Relieved, she nodded, and Richard described Jocelyn's need to marry, and why David had agreed. Sally still looked mutinous. “He had no need to marry for my sake. I can take care of myself perfectly well.”
Richard unobtrusively leaned against the wall, face fatigued. “Sally, it will make David much happier to know that you are provided for. Will you let him have that?”
Sally's face crumbled and she began to weep. “I'm sorry, Richard. It . . . it just seems so strange. What right does she have to sweep in like this?”
Jocelyn looked down at the ring David had put on her finger. A simple, well-worn gold signet ring that had to have come from his own hand. Perhaps the only thing of value he owned. It fit rather well. Aching, she said, “I have the right your brother gave me.” Raising her head, she said, “If you will excuse me, I will rejoin my husband.”
As she reentered the sickroom, she saw that Sally was now sobbing against the long-suffering captain's shoulder. He put an arm around her and smiled wryly at Jocelyn over the bent head. The man had a real talent for dealing with distressed females.
Someone had helped the major lie down again. His face was gray from the effort expended in the last hour, and he looked so fragile that she feared even sitting up again would be the death of him. But as he had promised, he had survived long enough to become her husband.
“It's time I let you sleep.” She leaned over to kiss him lightly for the last time, then whispered one of the Spanish phrases she had learned, “Vaya con Dios, David.”
“And to you also.” He smiled with a serenity that pierced her heart. “Please be happy in the future, my dear girl.”
Their gazes held for a long, long moment. Once more she ached with desolation at the damnable waste of it all. Gently she laid her small bouquet on his pillow, so he could smell the fragrance of the blossoms.
Barely able to school her expression, she straightened and collected her entourage with a glance. Then she left, not daring to look back.
Go with God, David. And may angels sing you to your rest.
Chapter 4
S
ally had regained her composure, but her glance was hostile when her brother's new wife emerged. Face expressionless as marble, Lady Jocelyn dug into her reticule and removed one of her cards. “Here is my direction. Let me know when . . . anything changes, or if there is something I can do that will make your brother more comfortable. Blankets, medicines . . . Perhaps I could hire private nurses for him?”
ally had regained her composure, but her glance was hostile when her brother's new wife emerged. Face expressionless as marble, Lady Jocelyn dug into her reticule and removed one of her cards. “Here is my direction. Let me know when . . . anything changes, or if there is something I can do that will make your brother more comfortable. Blankets, medicines . . . Perhaps I could hire private nurses for him?”
Reluctantly Sally accepted the card since there would have to be some future dealings with the witch, but she snapped, “David needs
nothing
from you.”
nothing
from you.”
“As you wish.” After a fond farewell for RichardâLady Jocelyn was much more pleasant to men than womenâshe swept away with her retinue.
Sally muttered between clenched teeth, “Slut.”
Unshocked by her language, the captain merely gave a tired smile. “She isn't, you know. She's a woman trying to find a solution in a world made by men. In the same circumstances, you might do exactly the same.”
“I doubt it,” Sally said, glad that her ladyship was gone, and good riddance. Noticing Richard's drained expression, she added, “It's time you rested. I'm sure you've been up much longer than your doctor would approve.”
“I haven't listened to him yet, why should I start now? But I am ready to lie down.” He regarded her seriously. “Sally, think carefully about what you say to David. He's pleased about this marriage. Don't spoil it for him.”
She flushed at the warning. “I suppose I deserve that. Don't worry, I won't distress him. I'll go in now and let him know that I haven't murdered his lady wife.”
“He'll be relieved to hear that.” The captain pushed himself forward from the wall and headed down the hall toward his own room.
Schooling her face, Sally entered her brother's room. David seemed asleep, but his eyes opened when she sat down beside him. “Forgive me, little hedgehog?”
Her heart nearly melted with anguish when he used the old nickname. “Of course I do. It was just such a shock to come here and find a wedding.” She lifted the laudanum bottle. “You must be due for another dose of medicine.”
David accepted the spoonful of laudanum gratefully, then relaxed into the pillows with a weary sigh. “You're here early today.”
“The children's godmother came this morning and whisked them off on some expedition, so I was free unexpectedly.” In a voice carefully purged of accusation, she continued, “Why didn't you tell me you were getting married?”
David smiled with a hint of his old mischief. “Because if I'd told you in advance, you would have given me a lecture on how capable you are of taking care of yourself and said it was quite unnecessary for me to provide for you. Am I right?”
She had to laugh. “You know me too well.”
His voice faded as he slid toward sleep. “I know you're very capable, but you're still my little sister. I'm glad to know that you'll have five hundred a year.”
Five hundred a year! Sally stared at her dozing brother. No one had mentioned how large the annuity was. Whatever else the arrogant Lady Jocelyn might be, it wasn't stingy. Five hundred pounds was five times Sally's annual salary, and she was reckoned a very well-paid female. She'd be able to live in considerable comfort, and even some style.
Would she still want to teach? Sally enjoyed her job, and the Launcestons were the best employers she'd ever had. Still, five hundred pounds a year would give her choices. She could travel. Buy a cottage in a village and live a life of leisure.
Freedom at the cost of David's life. She shook her head, reminding herself that he would die anyway. At least this way, Lady Jocelyn would have five hundred pounds a year less to waste on frivolity.
Taking comfort in the thought, she dug into her shapeless brocade bag for her knitting. After mending all of David's clothing, she'd gone on to knit four pairs of gloves, three pairs of socks, and two scarves during the hours she sat in the hospital. Though she wasn't fond of knitting, she'd found it impossible to concentrate on reading when David labored for breath beside her. At least the needles kept her hands busy.
Glumly she contemplated the current sock. Three stitches had been dropped, and it would take her half an hour just to repair the damage. Well, she had the rest of the day, and David would sleep most of it. She glanced at the bone-thin figure, then turned away with a shudder. Had it only been two weeks since he had been brought back to London? It seemed that she had been coming to this grim hospital forever, and every day he seemed more frail, until it was hard to understand how he still lived.
Sometimes, God help her, she wished it was over, so she could surrender to pure, primitive grief. Other times she wondered how she would learn of his death. Would she be with him? Would Richard send her a message? Or would she arrive and find her brother's bed empty, and know the worst?
Sally realized that the yarn had broken in her hands. Fingers shaking, she knotted the strand together again.
You must be calm. David doesn't need to deal with your grief on top of his pain
.
You must be calm. David doesn't need to deal with your grief on top of his pain
.
She looked around at the dark, ugly room, hearing the distant sounds of suffering men, smelling the countless wretched odors of a hospital. It was a poor spot to die, but she supposed any place was.
That afternoon Jocelyn joined her aunt for tea in the sunny parlor that was Laura Kirkpatrick's special retreat. After they had been served and were private, she announced, “You'll be pleased to hear that my marriage problem has been solved. Aunt Elvira can resign herself to struggling along on Willoughby's present income.”
Laura set down her cup, her face lighting up. “You've accepted one of your suitors? Which one? There's just enough time for the reading of the banns, but it will have to be a small ceremony, I fear.”
“Better than that.” Jocelyn handed her aunt a sheet of paper. “The deed is done. Behold, my marriage lines.”
“What on earth?” Laura looked at the paper and became very still. When she glanced up, her face showed the beginning of anger. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Isn't it obvious?” Jocelyn had to pause a moment, remembering her last sight of David, before she could continue. “I found a dying man, and in return for a substantial consideration, he did me the honor of making me his wife.”
“But you've never even met David Lancaster!”
“I got the idea when I was visiting Richard Dalton, and he mentioned Major Lancaster's condition,” she explained. “It's perfectly reasonable. Major Lancaster's sister will be provided for, and I have fulfilled the conditions of Father's will. Richard wasn't shocked when I suggested it, and neither was Major . . . my husband.”
Lady Laura's eyes flashed with fury. “They are men who have lived on the edge of death for years. Of course they will see things differently than society will!”
Jocelyn's mouth tightened. “Is that why you're concernedâbecause of what others will say? I had thought you were above such things. Besides, most of the fashionable world will be amused if the story becomes known. They'll laugh and think me very clever.”
Spots of color stood out on Laura's cheeks, but her voice was level again. “I can't deny that what people say is of concern to me. The Kendal family has already had more than its share of scandal.”
As Jocelyn paled at that reminder of the past, her aunt continued implacably, “But what truly bothers me is that you are using a fine man's death for your own selfish ends. Why didn't you discuss this with me first?”
Jocelyn tried to maintain calm, but the fear that her aunt would despise her was overwhelming. “You didn't want to know what I was going to do!” she cried, her voice breaking. “Please, Aunt Laura, don't be angry with me. I wouldn't have married him if I'd known how it would upset you. It was an idea of impulse. Major Lancaster welcomed my proposal, and then it was too late to withdraw. I thought we would both benefit, with no harm done. Please . . . please try to understand.”
Lady Laura sighed, her anger fading into disappointment. “Perhaps I wouldn't be so upset if your impulse had fallen on a stranger rather than a man I know and respect. David deserves better than to be used so . . . so carelessly.”
“Perhaps you're right,” Jocelyn whispered, aching at her aunt's disapproval. “But the deed is done and cannot be undone.”
Lady Laura rose to her feet. “Tomorrow morning I shall go down to Kennington. It's time to open the house and prepare for Andrew's return from the Continent.” A trace of acid appeared in her normally soft voice. “Now that you're a married woman, you no longer need me as a chaperon.”
“I suppose not.” Jocelyn gazed at a cake that she'd mangled into crumbs.
Her aunt paused in the door. “I'll be back in a fortnight or two, and no doubt I'll be over my anger by then.” After offering that olive branch, she left.
Shaking, Jocelyn sank into her chair. As if the last day hadn't been difficult enough, now she'd alienated her dearest friend, the woman who was the closest thing she had to a mother. She saw her deed through her aunt's eyes, and felt bitterly ashamed. Once again, as so often in her life, she'd got everything wrong.
Well, there was no help for it. She must lie in the bed she had made, even if it wasn't a conventional marriage bed.
As she searched for something to cheer herself, she recalled that the Parkingtons were holding an informal ball this evening. Not too large and with most guests well-known to Jocelyn, it was exactly the sort of event she liked best.
It would be good not to spend the evening wondering how soon she would become a widow.
The gathering at the Parkingtons' house was small, since most of fashionable society had already left London for their country estates. Yet despite Jocelyn's anticipation, she found herself restless, bored by conversations that seemed frivolous compared to the stark realities of the military hospital.
Then a latecomer arrived, and she inhaled sharply, her pulse accelerating when she saw that it was Rafael Whitbourne, the Duke of Candover. Just looking at him made her feel better. It wasn't only that he was very good-looking, although he was. What she found irresistibly attractive was the knowledge of how very well they would suit each other.
As she chatted with other guests, Jocelyn monitored Candover's progress as he worked his way around the ballroom. She knew better than to put herself in his path. As a handsome bachelor duke who was rich beyond the dreams of avarice, he'd been pursued by countless females, which had made him justifiably cynical. However, she had a title and fortune of her own and didn't need his. They were perfect for each other. If Jocelyn was to win him, it would have to be because of genuine attraction and a mutual recognition of compatibility.
Her patience was rewarded when Candover sought her out after the small orchestra started playing dance music. “Lady Jocelyn,” he said with obvious pleasure. “I'm glad to see that you're still in town. Will you honor me with this waltz?”
“Only if you promise not to step on my toes again,” she said teasingly.
“That last time wasn't my fault,” he protested, his gray eyes laughing. “When that drunken boor barreled into me, the wonder is that we both didn't end up on the floor in a most undignified tangle.”
“I found it quite remarkable how you kept your balance while at the same time leaving the boor peacefully unconscious on the floor where he could do no more damage. How did you manage that?” she asked as he led her onto the dance floor.
“I merely assisted him in a direction he was already going.” The music began, and he drew her into waltz position. “Learning how to defend oneself is one of the hidden benefits of an Eton education.”
The pleasure she took in his company reminded her why she had refused other suitors and justified the painful ceremony earlier in the day. As they exchanged pleasantries, she studied his face, admiring the firmness of his features, the clarity of those cool gray eyes. He was known as Rafe by the handful of people who were his intimates, but she would never dare call him that without an invitation. Perhaps someday.
She thought she was laughing and talking in her normal manner, so it was a surprise when Candover asked, “Forgive me, Lady Jocelyn, but you appear rather out of sorts today. Is something wrong?”
It was the inquiry of a friend, not a mere acquaintance. Glad to see proof that her interest was not entirely one-sided, she replied, “It was an odd sort of day. I got married this morning and have not yet accustomed myself to the fact.”
Surprise showed through his usual detachment. “Indeed? I hadn't heard that you were contemplating the fatal step.” His gaze became ironic. “Surely the Parkingtons' house is an odd place for a honeymoon.”
The time had come to inform him of her circumstances, and her availability. “It's not generally known, but my father made the most ridiculous will, with the condition that I marry by the age of twenty-five or be largely disinherited.”
Other books
West Palm: The Complete Novel by Joss Cordero
As Old As Time: A Twisted Tale (Twisted Tale, A) by Liz Braswell
'74 & Sunny by A. J. Benza
Billionaire's Bet (BBW Waitress, Billionaire Seduction) by McGuinness, Moira
Boy Trouble by ReShonda Tate Billingsley
Operation Christmas by Weitz, Barbara
Blue Fish: The War Beneath by Sankalp
La reina descalza by Ildefonso Falcones
Fake ID by Hazel Edwards
Arrival of the Prophecy by Ray, Robin Renee
