Bargaining With a Rogue, page 1
Bargaining With a Rogue
By Marie Higgins
Copyright © 2017 by Marie Higgins
Edition License Notes
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Bargaining With a Rogue
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
Other published stories from Marie Higgins
Author’s Bio
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The ultimatum has been set... Frances Ramsbury has exactly one month to find a husband. If she doesn’t, her father will betroth her to her stepmother’s vile nephew. Frances knows she’ll never find a man equal to the fiancé she lost in the war, but she’s unwilling to tie herself to a man she loathes. Out of options, Frances does the unthinkable when she runs into her childhood friend, Nash Wolverton, and makes him a proposal of marriage in name only. Will the rogue accept the bargain she’s offered?
Starting a new life... Newly appointed Earl of Englewood, Nash Wolverton, has no desire to marry and tie himself to one woman. However, he doesn’t like the idea of Frances settling for just anyone, either. The more time Nash spends with Frances, the more he comes to realize that he wants her for his own after all. But when he’s threatened to stay away from Lady Frances—or die—Nash doesn’t know whether to release her and allow her to be happy, or fight for the woman he has fallen in love with.
ONE
Marriage! Frances Ramsbury shuddered. The mere thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Once again—as what usually happens every month—her father and stepmother called Frances into the drawing room to have that talk. She geared herself up to give them the same answer she’d been giving them for a year now.
The plea in her father’s expression, and the sadness misting his brown eyes, twisted her heart. There was no doubt he cared deeply for her, but why couldn’t he comprehend her plight as well?
“My dear, it’s time for you to find a husband,” he said calmly as he held her gaze.
She took a deep breath for courage, and released it slowly. She mustn’t get angry. He thought he was doing this for her, although Frances knew he urged her because of her stepmother.
“But Father, why can you not understand? I’m not ready.” Frances sat stiff and proper with a straight back, sitting on the edge of the sofa cushion. The impulse to jump up and run to safety became overpowering, but she would not relent. Not this time. She folded her hands on her lap, but inwardly wished she held a handkerchief, so that she could wring the life out of it.
The day had started out lovely. Frances awoke, ate breakfast, dressed, and then strolled through her stepmother’s flower garden. Smelling the sweet scent of the roses always lifted Frances’ spirits. But as soon as she stepped inside the house, a servant informed her that the duke and duchess were waiting to talk with her in the drawing room.
Frances didn’t need to ask why. She knew.
“My dear,” her father said with a gentle, caring voice, as he leaned forward in his black leather chair, “it’s been nigh three years since Lord Adam died. I think by now your heart would be healed.”
Clenching her teeth, Frances held back her temper. She took deep breaths, trying her hardest not to spout out the thoughts swimming in her head. Obviously, her father had never been so in love, only to have the ideal person that one imagined spending the rest of their life with, just suddenly die. And yet, he expected her heart to be healed by now? Her heart would never heal. She would never be that woman she’d been when she and Adam were courting. He was unlike any man she’d ever known. How could she find someone to replace him when there was no such man?
Finally, she felt as though she could speak without showing her frustration. “Father, Augusta,” she switched her gaze to her stepmother who sat beside her on the sofa, “I’m touched deeply to know you care about my welfare, however, my heart hasn’t mended. Forgive me, but I’m just not interested in marriage at this point.”
Grumbling, her father pushed his fingers through his thinning brown hair with streaks of gray, as a frown tugged his mouth. He exchanged quick glances with his wife, before returning his attention to his daughter.
“Augusta and I have given you ample time to recover. We both feel that you should come out of mourning. Immediately.”
Anger rose inside of Frances and she dropped her gaze to her lap. She wasn’t in mourning, not like her father had suggested. She’d stopped wearing black and gray gowns nearly a year and a half ago. “Father, I must remain true to my heart.” She took a breath and slowly released it. “You had once promised I could marry the man I loved and admired. How can I marry now when I’ve not found anyone to replace Adam?”
Silence stretched in the room for a space of several minutes. A small wind from outside blew through the opened window. The sheer drapes flapped softly. The refreshing fragrance of the roses outside drifted through the air, calming Frances slightly.
Hesitantly, she raised her attention to her father. He drummed his beefy fingers on the armrest of his chair, as his mouth pulled into a line. It appeared that he wasn’t going to give in this time. She must prepare a stronger excuse as to why she wouldn’t marry.
“I’m sorry, Frances, but your stepmother and I agree that you must start looking for someone to marry as soon as possible. Time is of the essence.”
Shaking her head, desperation sank in her chest. Would she lose the argument this time? She needed to try harder to win. Tears stung her eyes, so she blinked to keep them hidden. “I don’t understand. Why is it so important for me to start looking for a husband now?”
“You see, my dear,” Augusta’s overly-sweet voice drew France’s attention to the slender, fancy-dressed woman, “the longer you wait to wed, the more apt you will be to become a spinster.”
A surprised laugh bubbled up in Frances’ throat, and she couldn’t hold it back. “Are you jesting? You are worried about me becoming a spinster?”
“Well, it’s more than that, dear.” Her stepmother patted Frances’ hand. “The longer you wait, the more your name will be ruined. Men will not want to court you. They will quickly lose interest in you. Don’t you see?”
The nearly frail woman looked at Frances with such seriousness in her hollow amber eyes. A few silver streaks highlighted her fading auburn hair. The woman had married Frances’ father barely over a year ago, but Frances hadn’t been able to consider the other woman her mother yet. Of course, there was something odd about Augusta that Frances just couldn’t pinpoint.
“Oh, please, Augusta.” Frances rolled her eyes. “You cannot believe that will happen. Why, Evelyn Cummings waited four whole years after her fiancé died before she married, and her reputation wasn’t ruined.”
“However,” her father added in a stern voice, “Miss Cummings was not the daughter of a duke.”
“Exactly.” Scowling, Frances gave him a sharp nod. “And because of who my father is, I’m quite certain that men will still be vying for my attention even after I become a spinster. After all, they all know I come with an impressive dowry.”
The fierce glint to her father’s gray eyes made Frances hold her breath. Perhaps she shouldn’t have raised her voice just then. But she couldn’t hold in her feelings any longer.
Slowly, her father stood as he folded his arms across his wide chest. His gaze locked on Frances and wouldn’t budge for the longest pause of silence she’d ever had so far during this conversation. She swallowed hard and tried to keep calm, and at the same time, she must not cower. Especially, in this particular cause.
“Frances Anna Ramsbury,” he growled.
Her heart sank. Panic grew inside of her chest. Never had her father been this adamant. Usually, all she had to do was show him her tears and he bent to her will. Could he have grown immune to her tactics?
“You will start looking for a husband, because in four weeks’ time, if you haven’t found a man to marry, I will sign betrothal papers for you to wed Lord Stone.”
Shock vibrated through her. “Lord Stone? Are you referring to Augusta’s nephew, Edgar Stone?”
“Indeed, the very man.” Her father arched a dark bushy eyebrow, but kept his harsh expression. “He has been hinting about courting you, and I believe it’s time I allowed it.”
She sprang from her chair and grasped her father’s arm. Her world as she knew it closed in around her quickly. Even her vision became tunneled as dread pulsed through her head and made her ears pound. She couldn’t lose control now. She must fight for her life. “No, Father. Not him. He’s a vile man.”
“Your stepmother and I believe he will make you a fine husband.”
“A fine husband isn’t supposed to strike women and beat them to a bloody pulp. A fine husband should have patience and understanding. Edgar possesses none of these traits.”
Augusta gasped and shook her head. “Those are just rumors, and you of all people should know not to believe them. I have known him for years, being my older sister’s son, and he treats every woman like a queen.”
Frances’ mind wanted to scream at her stepmother. She was so wrong about her nephew. Frances had known women who’d gotten close to him, and ended up with bruised eyes. She had witnessed the way he yelled at an older woman, which had stirred fright into Frances. If a man could treat an elderly woman in such a way, Frances didn’t have to imagine what he would do with a wife, if he became displeased. But obviously, her father and Augusta wouldn’t be swayed.
“Father, you are missing one important detail. I don’t love him. I never will.” Tears burned her eyes, but she tried not to let them show. She wouldn’t cry and beg like a young girl any longer. She was a woman full grown at the age of twenty and four, and so must act the part.
“If love is what you seek,” her father replied, “you have four weeks to find that man. I will not relent this time, Frances. Your tears will not influence me, I assure you.”
She snapped her touch away from his arm and glowered. She’d bet money that Augusta had something to do with this. Ever since Frances had met Edgar for the first time at her father’s and Augusta’s wedding, the mention of that disgusting man’s name sent shivers up her spine.
“Fine.” She heaved quickly, trying to hold in her anger, but it wasn’t working very well. “If that is the way you want to play. I shall find a man to marry in four weeks, because I will not marry Edgar Stone.”
Frances spun away from her father, marching toward the door. It didn’t matter that she’d not been excused by him, she didn’t want to stay in that room any longer. The stubborn man just wouldn’t listen to reason. Well, he would not get his way. Not this time. She would find someone else to marry, even though she knew her heart would never be involved.
Her heeled shoes clicked on the marbled floor as she strode quickly down the hall, heading for the grand stairs that would take her toward her room on the second floor. Sulking was necessary at this moment, only because she needed to mourn the fact that her life would never be the same. She would have to find a husband—hopefully, one she could tolerate—and she would forever live in a loveless marriage. She’d given her heart to Adam Haddington, a soldier her father hadn’t exactly approved of, but he accepted Adam due to the fact that she loved him. And now that Adam had fought in one of Napoleon’s wars and was killed, she would never know happiness again.
Her steps gained speed as she rounded the corner...and ran head-on into a human form. Her head whacked against something hard and pain exploded in her temple. Stars danced in her eyes as she tried to focus on the person she’d just hit. Dizzy, she stepped back and swayed, but two strong arms wrapped around her, holding her upright. A manly scent of pine mixed with leather filled her senses.
Blinking, she tried to focus on the man’s face that was only about four inches from her. Deep blue eyes etched with worry held her stare. His lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear anything due to the buzzing in her ears.
Slowly, he walked her to a settee and set her down with his arms still around her waist. She wasn’t certain she liked how personal he held her, but at the moment, she’d allow it for fear she’d crumble to the floor. Taking profound breaths, she hoped to fight against the lightheadedness assailing her. What could have caused her to act this way? But then she noticed he rubbed his red chin as a smile touched his mouth.
“Are you all right?”
His words were clearer this time. She nodded. “I shall be in a moment.” She touched the sore spot on her forehead and cringed. This was going to leave a mark, she just knew it. “Forgive me for running into you.”
Finally, his face didn’t appear so fuzzy, and she could see the man more fully. He was handsome, but still, he couldn’t hold a candle to Adam’s rugged good looks. And yet, the longer she stared at him, a prick of familiarity passed through her mind.
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been standing so close to the corner of the hall.” He rubbed his chin.
She moved her gaze in that direction. “Why were you standing there?”
“I was admiring the painting. It’s really quite lovely.”
“Uh, thank you.” She licked her dry lips. “I actually painted that.”
His eyes widened, as well as his smile. “Then allow me to pay you a compliment and tell you how very talented you are, my lady.”
“I thank you,” she repeated. “But I must know, why were you standing in my hall to begin with?”
Chuckling lightly, he nodded. “I was waiting for your brother to join me. We are going riding this afternoon.”
Frances ran her gaze over him one more time now that she was more alert. His dark blond head of hair waved slightly, especially around his neck. His blue eyes held a touch of gray, and nearly sparkled when he smiled. Indeed, he was dressed for riding with his black coat over a tan waistcoat and white shirt and cravat. Stretching across his legs were beige riding trousers that snugged against his muscular thighs quite tightly. He wore black riding boots, making his attire complete.
Embarrassed of where her attention had wandered, she snapped her gaze up and peered into his eyes again...eyes that were so incredibly dreamy to stare into. In fact, he peered at her as though he held some kind of secret. His stare also slid over her, and the longer he looked, the wider his smile grew. Apparently, he must be enjoying the view.
She shook herself and focused on the matter at hand. What could she possibly be thinking? Now was not the time to act like a simpering female who swooned over a handsome man. Obviously, she acted this way because of her head injury.
“Pardon me, but have we met?” she asked.
He chuckled again. “Indeed, we have, my lady. We were but children at the time.” He stood and bowed. “My lady, I’m Nash Wolverton, newly appointed Earl of Englewood.”
The name hit her, stunning her nearly as hard as when her head whacked against his shoulder. They were children together, and she had disliked his cocky attitude way back then. Nash and Frances’ brother, Conrad, were chums for years before Nash turned into a rakehell and lived a different lifestyle. It seemed as though his family had dropped out of society, as well, because she hadn’t heard the name Wolverton for several years.
She stiffened her back and rested her hands on her lap, trying to appear proper again. “Yes, I do remember you. So tell me, why are you newly titled?”
“Because my uncle died and left the earldom to me.”
“Oh. Please accept my condolences for his passing.”
“I thank you.”
He sighed heavily and glanced back up the hall. She, too, followed his gaze. Her brother had yet to appear. Even the servants were conspicuously absent. When Nash returned his eyes back to her, she noticed a different expression cross his face.
Slowly, he sat beside her...close beside her.
“Tell me, my lady, what have you been doing since we last saw each other?” His gaze dropped to her left hand before meeting her gaze again. “I see you are not married.”
Frances really didn’t want to converse with the man, especially one with his reputation for seducing women. However, she realized he would be a fool to try anything on her—the duke’s daughter, and his friend’s sister, no less.
“If you must know, I was engaged three years ago, but my fiancé died in battle.” Her throat tightened as memories swam in her head. It was like reliving that painful time all over again.
“Yes, I had been informed about Adam Haddington’s death. He was a brave man to have died in such a way.”
She nodded as her throat tightened. Indeed, he had been her hero in all ways. “You are very kind, indeed.”
“Are you courting anyone now?” he asked in a soft voice as his fingers trailed to her hand, rubbing small circles on her wrist.
For the nerve... Gasping, she yanked her hand away and stood. “That, Sir, is none of your concern.”
