Compromised Into Marriage

‘I might feel a little guilt,’ he said as he watched her. ‘But I can handle it. Can you?’

‘I’d like to find out.’

His lips feathered hers, the briefest instant, the tiniest twinkling.

Her body warmed and new strength flourished.

When he released her, it almost felt as if she had stepped into a different world. He studied her.

Now she knew what a kiss was, and she could be satisfied, step away and be happy with the memory. Her heart fluttered. She didn’t really want to step away. She wanted another kiss.

Disappointment overpowered her. Only one kiss. It had been rather like that first glimmer of a rainbow fading away before the colours brightened.

Her throat choked on all the words she could use to describe it.

She could not tell him how wonderful it was. How much it had meant to her and how she would carry it inside her the rest of her life. Words would never tell him the truth of it and she could not put it into sentences. He had answered her question. But if she told him how it felt, it would seem as if she were asking for more and being truly improper. She must maintain what dignity she had left. ‘It was adequate.’

‘Adequate?’ he asked, chin lowered as both brows rose.

She caught herself frowning, at a loss. How could she tell him he’d been correct when he’d said that she would want more?

‘Thank you. That was kind of you.’ She patted his upper arm and smiled her appreciation.

He deliberated. Then he took her cheeks in his hands and his eyelids lowered. He moved forward and his lips found hers, and this time they brought the promise of the full rainbow with them.

His fingertips slid down, down, until he clasped her waist and held her. The intensity behind his lips fused itself into her body. She sparkled into starlight.

His mouth kept touching, exploring and feeling her with a bursting sweetness, but also with the charge of a sip of brandy she shouldn’t have taken. If not for his arms around her and the door at her back, she would have toppled to the floor.

To be held upright, aloft, by this man tingled her to her toes.

He backed away, still holding her upright. ‘So, your first true kiss? Adequate?’

She found her voice. ‘Exceedingly so. You taste of what I would think gunpowder should taste like if a female created it. All smoky and sparkly and a few more things for good measure.’

His lips curved and he brushed a kiss on her nose.

He ducked again, his lips taking her back to the place they’d been, only this time going deeper, further into the feelings. Further against her.

His mouth, tongue and body pressed, igniting and stealing breath.

He moved away from the kiss, his gaze darkened in a way she’d never seen.

After a few heartbeats, he said, ‘I suppose we should see how your friend is faring.’

She put a palm on his coat, unable to feel him for the thickness of the fabric. ‘We should.’

He rested his forehead against hers and still captured her. His voice spoke gentler than any man’s she’d ever heard. ‘Sweet, I tell you true when I say I would savour letting you learn all you wish to know about kisses, about a man’s body, a man’s desires and your own feelings. It would be a wonder.’

His lips almost touched hers. ‘But it’s not my place to teach you such things and I don’t wish to think of you lying awake, alone, regretting our time together, or regretting that we cannot still be exploring each other.’

He stepped away. ‘I could not be happy having a little of you and watching you go. I fear you are someone I might stay awake thinking of and not be satisfied because I couldn’t hold you. You should return to your companion. If for no other reason, then for the sake of my sleep and my dreams.’

‘I think I picked well for my first kiss.’ She brushed the gloved tip of her finger across his chin and heard a quiet chuckle.

She didn’t want to leave, but knew she must. Turning her head, she reached for the doorknob, but his hand was on it, reaching between her and the opening. He immediately moved aside, ushering her into the hallway.

The open door to the room where Mavis rested loomed in front of her.

‘The carriage is at your disposal for as long as you need it,’ he said. His footsteps sounded as he left, moving deeper into the house.

He didn’t follow her and the disappointment gouged, but she knew he mustn’t remain.

Vivian didn’t interrupt the conversation between Mrs Rush and Mavis.

Inside the room, Mavis sat, her arms crossed and her mouth grim. ‘I don’t need a physician.’

‘I’ll send someone to tell him we don’t need him,’ the housekeeper said.

Mavis agreed.

‘You’ve got a bump on the back of your head and some nice bruises. And a scratch on your nose.’ The housekeeper inspected Mavis. ‘You don’t need being poked at. When my Jimmy was a lad, he had worse bumps and could still get two switchings by the end of the day.’

‘I’m feeling much better,’ Mavis said.

‘A lady’s ills are best treated by us.’ The housekeeper dropped the cloth in the bowl of water. ‘When I was young, we didn’t go runnin’ to physicians when we had a nose bleed. We learned quick how to manage for ourselves.’

‘I have never needed a physician in my life.’ Mavis straightened her shoulders. ‘And that’s why I’m so healthy.’

‘Are you ready to return home?’ Vivian asked Mavis, concerned they might be missed.

Mavis shook her head. ‘Soon, dear. I’m really dashed, right now.’ She perused the housekeeper. ‘The tea you’ve sent the maid for—did you say lemon balm with chamomile?’

The housekeeper nodded. ‘A secret blend I learned from my aunt.’

Vivian saw another of the big chairs—she supposed an advantage of a household with a man such as she’d seen. She couldn’t help herself. She moved to the chair, curled into it and relaxed.

‘And I know the absolute best mixture for youthful skin, too,’ the housekeeper whispered.

‘Oh.’ Mavis raised herself up. ‘You must share. You must.’

‘Well...’ The housekeeper pushed at an errant curl slipping from her mob cap. ‘I really do not tell just anyone, but the master did bump you about.’

Vivian felt herself droop and leaned back into the chair, dozing, dreaming of butterflies with attractive shoulders. Fluttering long eyelashes on them as well. And beautifully soft lips covering a masculine firmness. And they inspected her, their eyes so clear and so blue and so deep they were like staring into softly tinted glass that she could fall into and be surrounded by the shades, enveloping her into an azure-tinted world of sparkling sunshine.

She slid from her dream, surprised to discover butterflies could be so attractive. Then she tensed, realising she was being stared at.

Both women—Mavis, bedraggled, and the housekeeper—stood over her, staring down.

‘You think it will work?’ Mavis asked the housekeeper.

‘Nothing to lose,’ the other woman said, observing Vivian.

‘What?’ Vivian asked, body tensing.

‘Now, dear, have I ever let you down?’ Mavis purred, a black and yellowish cast above her cheeks.

Chapter Two

Five days later, Vivian sat in a hackney carriage with her arms crossed. She inspected the profane word carved into the side of the equipage near her elbow.

‘If Mother finds out about this, she will lock me in my room.’ Vivian brushed a strand of hair back into place.

Mavis slumped in the seat across from her, her bonnet sliding down over her ear. ‘I assure you I’m not enjoying this either. If we’d not convinced your mother you were a bit better, she would never have gone with your father to visit her sister.’ Mavis shook her head. ‘Your mother trusts me.’

Vivian saw a cluster of briars and gorse beyond the window. ‘We’re going away from London. Down a country track, clouds in the sky—dark ones—and if it rains, we could be stuck here for days.’

‘If we get stuck...’ Mavis moved forward in her seat. ‘Both your parents will find out and toss me into the street.’

‘Convincing Mother I was feeling better was difficult. Without your help, I couldn’t have managed.’

‘We had no choice.’ Mavis tapped her reticule against Vivian’s knee. ‘You’re trembling even more, and weaker, I can tell. Maybe this woman can help. That housekeeper swears she can. Says she travels all about, studying remedies others use.’

‘That doesn’t mean they’ll work.’

‘Doesn’t mean they won’t. We had to leave while your mother is visiting your aunt because you know as well as I, she’d refuse to let you take such a journey. If you weren’t so ill, I’d never let the vagrant near you. She claims to be a woman of remedies and fortunes, and will likely state she can cobble a pair of boots should she think she can get a coin from it. But the housekeeper said she trusts her like no other. It seems she works without charge for the poorest and claims to let the rich pay her double.’

‘I cannot imagine how she will make me pay. My father is rich enough, but if he found out what I’m doing he would most likely send the magistrate for her.’

‘The housekeeper affirms the woman, Ella Etta, saved her son once.’ Mavis ducked her head, and her voice fell to a whisper. ‘Vivian, we have to try. The physician hasn’t helped you and it’s been years. They’ve had their chance. Chances.’

‘All my pin money went to hire this carriage.’

Mavis tapped her again with the reticule. ‘And the silver vase in your room. I’m not sure how I’ll explain that to your mother.’

‘Oh, Lady Darius,’ Vivian spoke in a mock-sweet voice, ‘the vase? We hardly ever use it and I needed some coin to take your daughter deep into the woods and toss her to a vagabond who lives there. Your daughter...um... Vivian. No, haven’t seen her since.’

Vivian dusted her gloves together and continued in the false tone. ‘Fussy little thing. She wore holes in my ears with all her complaining when the carriage went over a bump, as if I had anything to do with putting the road there.’

Mavis opened her reticule and took out a handkerchief, then dotted her forehead. ‘You are bearing up well. Just keep thinking things will work out for the best. Don’t imagine us disappearing into the woods and never being seen of again. Our carcases turning to weathered bones,’ she muttered to herself. ‘My bones will be weathered. They’re already halfway there.’

Vivian let herself slide sideways in the seat and propped herself in the corner. ‘Mavis. Mavis. Mavis. You’ve led me astray.’ She brushed a glove over the window pane. ‘Miles astray.’

The carriage listed to its side and lumbered along.

‘We are slowing,’ Mavis spoke, her voice toneless. ‘I hope we are at our destination. Otherwise...’

Vivian couldn’t keep herself from turning to the window. She saw two wagons, a donkey cart and a hut which might have been patched together from debris.

‘The housekeeper said they would be here.’ Mavis had a gloved hand at the window.

The door opened and the carriage steps were pulled down.

‘Out,’ Mavis commanded.

Vivian grimaced. ‘You pretend to be the rich, ill daughter of the baron. I’ll watch and see what happens.’

Mavis slapped at Vivian’s leg. ‘Out. Act like a diamond of the first water. These are common folk. They will expect it.’

Vivian stepped to the ground, thankful her legs held her upright.

The driver appeared ready to leave them without a backward glance. She hoped he remembered how upset she’d told him her father would be if anything happened to his precious, and only, daughter. She’d neglected to tell the driver her father might be so far in his cups he wouldn’t remember having a child.

She examined the encampment.

A man walked around the wagon parked under a sycamore tree and gave a brief nod to them before he retraced his steps. She heard a shout and he called out to someone, but Vivian couldn’t understand the name.

The man, hair streaked with white, remained far enough away he could hear them if they spoke, but not close enough to invite conversation. He sat on the ground, propping his back against a tree, his knees up to rest his arms, and watched them.

Mavis kept her voice low and barely moved her lips. ‘He acts as though he thinks we might steal something.’

Then Ella Etta appeared, wearing what might have been a man’s coat and boots, with a torn yellow skirt hem hanging over the footwear. The red scarf around her hair fluttered in the wind.

Vivian held herself firm and took a few steps forward, nervous to be walking under the canopy of dark trees, concerned about the forest closing in around her and the sentry who studied the ground in front of him, but knew their every move.

The tramp had nearly swaddled herself in clothes and her fingers reminded Vivian of dried-chicken leg bones, covered in rings.

‘I hear...’ Vivian quaked inside, but she stared down the old woman and ignored the curious scrutiny that circled her ‘...tales of your skills.’

Ella Etta smirked, showing teeth so healthy they could put a bear to shame.

Vivian’s strength all but disappeared. If not for Mavis, she would have pretended to be lost, asked directions to the nearest village and fled.

The hag’s countenance—every day of her life was shown there—held a confidence that Vivian preferred to back away from. But she’d nowhere to go for safety. The accident had changed that.

Ella Etta touched the loop dangling from her ear, partially hidden by the scarf. ‘It’s said stars ask my permission before they change places. Idle talk.’ She sniffed. ‘People should speak of the bigger things I do. Last morning, I wanted to rise before the sun, but also wanted to sleep more, so I delayed the sunrise until I wanted it. Naught is said of it.’

Vivian gave a soft click of her tongue and tilted her head. ‘That was you? Well, I cannot complain as I wished to rest longer as well. My thanks.’

Ella Etta gave a nod. ‘The first gift I give you. The second will cost more. And who might you be?’

‘Vivian Darius.’

The hag’s head jolted forward and she examined Vivian. ‘A baron’s daughter. Lord Darius.’

Vivian nodded. ‘I’m impressed.’

Ella Etta placed her booted feet flat on the ground and gave a shrug. ‘I may not read The Times, but I read palms. All the same.’ She frowned.

‘I need your medicine,’ Vivian spoke.

The older woman shrugged. ‘You were hurt in a...’ she waved an arm and the people watching lost interest, turning to resume their day ‘...by a horse.’

‘Yes. I was knocked about by one. Years ago. I’ve not recovered no matter how many remedies I take. They’ve given me enough treatments to make me well a thousand times over, but none of them has worked.’

Ella Etta gave a bare nod to the camp and stepped towards a fire pit. ‘Treatments,’ she said. ‘Little bottles?’

‘All sizes.’

The air briefly fanned the flames, stirring embers, then a stillness returned. ‘Come with me,’ she said.

Around the cooking area, several stumps had been turned into seats.

The woman led Vivian and Mavis to the fire pit.

Three poles joined to hold a chain and a bubbling pot over the embers. Vivian smelled stewing meat, as tempting as any from Cook’s kitchen.

Vivian absently pulled at her skirt so she could sit without wrinkling it.

‘No,’ Ella Etta rasped, pointing a finger to a seat near her. Vivian moved where instructed, so close their hems touched.

‘It’s warm sitting near the coals.’ Ella Etta used the end of the scarf to give herself a fan. ‘But the breeze is cool and the cooking rabbit smells good.’

Vivian heard Mavis settle almost behind her.

‘I’ve heard you may have medicine which can cure me,’ Vivian spoke, trying to keep the hope from sounding in her words.

Ella Etta held out a hand. ‘Give me your palm.’

Vivian slipped her glove away, dropped the doeskin in her lap and forced herself to remain unmoved when she felt the roughened skin touch her hand, pulling her fingers closer.

Ella Etta peered at the palm. Then she examined Vivian’s fingernails before she pressed at the skin over Vivian’s cheeks, causing her to clamp her teeth together.

‘You’re supposed to be examining my palm,’ Vivian muttered. ‘I thought you were part-fortune teller, part-matchmaker and part a mixer of herbs for treatments.’

‘I fix problems.’ A gleam appeared in her eye and she again pinched near Vivian’s jaw.

Vivian pulled away. ‘I am not a horse.’

She inspected Vivian’s skin. ‘I treat them also. They never complain.’

Ella Etta leaned forward. She smelled the same as Cook, but with more spice.

‘The price is high.’ She laughed, more to herself than anyone else. ‘But I may save you and, if I don’t, you will not return for your funds back.’

Vivian recoiled. ‘You are evil.’

‘No, I’m Ella Etta. Evil Etta was my mother.’

‘This is nonsense and I am tired.’ Vivian rose.

The old woman shook her head. ‘I cannot let you go without my medicinal.’ She waved a hand. A man stepped from the woods, holding what appeared to be a bundle of thorns that he gave to Ella Etta.

She held the bramble nest with both hands and moved the bundle forward so Vivian could examine it.

A stopper rested at the top. The thorns surrounded a bottle.

‘You follow my words without fail if you wish to live.’

‘First I must hear what you say, then decide,’ Vivian answered, keeping her words firm.

The woman chortled, her teeth showing, then glowered. ‘You bargain. But I do not change price.’

Vivian put all her haughtiness into one tilt of her head. ‘Well, tell me. I don’t wish to keep you from your business any longer.’

Ella Etta nodded. ‘Your cost is marriage to the son of the Earl who lives in the big house you just passed on your journey here.’

Vivian searched her mind. She’d been unaware of a mansion. And to marry the son of the house? Rot.

‘Thank you. No.’ Vivian stood and her glove tumbled from her lap to the ground. She swooped, picking up the doeskin. ‘I’ll not marry some man I’ve not met, or even say I would, just to get a parcel of thorns.’

‘You’ve met him.’ Mavis’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

Vivian veered towards her friend. ‘I can’t have. I’ve not been here before and I don’t get out much, even in London.’

‘Lord Everleigh. His housekeeper sent us here,’ Mavis whispered. She touched the spot above her cheekbones.

Vivian didn’t move. Images of him. Memories of his lips returned to her mind. ‘Him?’ She barely let out the word.

Ella Etta cackled. ‘I say he sticks in a woman’s memory. Even an old widow like me notices. Legs like a steed. Shoulders like a draught horse.’ She grinned. ‘I’m sure the rest of him’s as strong as a stallion.’

Vivian dropped to the stump again, jarring her bottom. ‘Well, you might be able to get me to toss in some gold as well.’ She leaned forward. ‘Does he know you talk of him like this?’

‘No. I’ve watched him grow since he learned to escape his governess.’ She sighed. ‘He came here, on the day his mother died, and said his father and grandfather were fighting over what dress she was to wear last. I told him it didn’t matter to her, so it shouldn’t matter to them.’

Ella Etta patted Vivian’s knee. ‘He was... What is it said? All knees and elbows?’ She lowered her voice. ‘And feet. Wagon big. He grew to fit them.’

‘Assuming I agree,’ Vivian lowered her voice, muttering, ‘though it is hard to believe I should... Assuming I agree,’ she continued, ‘just what does he have to say of such a thing?’

Ella Etta groaned. ‘You expect me to do everything?’ She thrust out her arm, waving in the air. ‘I save your life—you take care of getting the marriage promise.’

Vivian laughed. ‘I dare say he has no wish to marry me.’

Ella Etta held her palms out flat, her hands and sneer mocking Vivian’s words. ‘He does not. He has no wish to tie himself to a wife or he would have married long ago. It’s not difficult for a man to find a mate when a lady’s vision cannot ignore him.’ She shrugged. ‘You aren’t able to birth a strong babe now, but with my medicine, you will be. Do not complain that I send you to a man without love.’ She said the word as if it poisoned her lips. ‘Nonsense. His heart was destroyed long ago.’ Her rings shone as she waved them about. ‘But it left behind a good casing.’

The words lodged in Vivian’s mind. She wouldn’t have said Everleigh had no heart. He had treated Mavis with consideration and Vivian had no issue with how he’d treated her. Ella Etta was daft, but still...

‘How would I convince him of his marriage?’ Vivian tried to read the answer in Ella Etta’s expression.

The hag gaped at Vivian. ‘Not my worry. That would be your cost. I give you the healing potion. Tell you the way it must be administered. If you agree. Fine. Or, you don’t agree and we part.’ She leaned forward again and her voice rumbled from inside her ribs. ‘We are about to part, either way.’

Vivian felt the first bubble of laughter inside herself that she’d experienced in a long time.

Sure, she could be betrothed, if that was what the woman wanted to hear. Vivian could convince the hag of a secret imaginary betrothal to please her. No one would even need to tell Everleigh. And if Vivian didn’t get well she could spend her last days smiling, thinking of the imaginary bond she had with Everleigh and pretending it real.

‘Very well. I agree.’

Mavis’s sputtering cough caused both to turn her direction.

‘Smoke in her eyes,’ the vagabond muttered. ‘Happens to many of my visitors.’

‘I will marry him.’ Vivian held out her hands for the thorns. ‘But it will be a quiet wedding. Few guests. You can read about it in the visitors’ palms.’

‘Not so rushed.’ The woman put her nose almost to Vivian’s. She gasped in a breath while the hag commanded, ‘There are rules and you must not fail. You must stop any other curatives. Take my mixture with theirs—you may die before you’ve time to spit. Not a soft, sweet death. One like clawing demons tearing your entrails from your body.’ She sneered, ‘Saw it once. Purple lips. Drooling. He pulled out his own tongue. Gave it to me for a memento. Ugly tongue, but cooked up well.’

‘We’re leaving.’ Mavis jumped to her feet, forcing out the words, and grabbed Vivian’s arm.

The vagabond put a hand to her chest and whimpered. ‘I merely say truth because I don’t want the young one to suffer.’

‘Wait,’ Vivian said, holding back. ‘It’s my only chance.’

‘What have you got to lose?’ Ella Etta asked. ‘Take a small amount of my potion each day. No more than you might cup in something no bigger than a small fingernail. Just don’t forget that you must also convince the Earl’s son to marry you. He’s at his father’s house now.’

‘I must take my medicinals.’ Letting her hands drop, Vivian backed away. ‘I must.’

‘No.’ A drop flew out of Ella Etta’s mouth. Vivian wasn’t sure if it was spit or venom.

‘My observations tell me when mixtures work—and it’s not those other potions. Pay attention to yourself, Child. What you are taking now is not helping you. You were injured years ago.’

Vivian pulled at the shoulder of her gown. ‘Well, the physician has given me his verdict.’ Vivian held out both hands for the bundle. ‘I accept it and a bundle of thorns would make a good tale to tell to...’ she almost laughed ‘...mine and Everleigh’s children.’

Ella Etta moved to her feet with a tiny huff, still holding the thorns, and her voice flowed around them with the thickness of a wetted cloth. ‘You will be well. But you must not forget the bargain.’

‘What if I get well and Everleigh has no wish to marry me?’

‘You must make him wish.’ She waved her arm. ‘But what do I know? I’m just an old traveller who lives in a hut some days and some days I live nowhere. People travel far for me to help them. And I do.’ She scowled. ‘Now, go away.’