Page 3 of Bargaining for the Barrister
“Are we not to involve our husbands?” Mrs. Jackson asked. The rector was much too sensible to go along with a conniving plot like this. Lucky Miles. He would not suffer the same fate as the others, though Paul still held out hope for himself.
“If it is needful to include your husband and even your child, we will concede,” Lady Kellen said. “But when attending to children not of your own, we must ask for the utmost discretion. Before I can say another word, we must all solemnly promise never to reveal our secret society. We will aid each other in our efforts until every last one of our children receives the perfect match. The potential for love will be our priority when choosing candidates for our children, with marriage being the end goal.”
Ian nudged Paul and whispered fiercely, “They can’t do this to us. I won’t stand for it.”
“Relax. Maybe nothing will come of it.” There was no way Paul would agree to having his mother arrange his marriage, and he knew his friends felt the same.
“Who will be first?” Mrs. Jackson asked.
Paul and Ian reflexively leaned closer to the wall once again, eager to hear the answer.
Lady Kellen responded. “The first match is already underway. The intended couple will meet within the next week.”
A soft patter of clapping filled their ears.
“Who is the lucky child?” Lady Felcroft asked. “Do tell!”
“My Paul!” his mother exclaimed.
Paul straightened with a start, never expecting to hear his name. A barely audible groan eked out, but he felt it all the way to his boots. “It seems as if both our mothers are mad.”
“‘Nothing will come of this,’ eh?” Ian’s sarcasm was thick even in his whispered tones. He shook his head and moved away from the wall. “Look, I’ll get you through this. My mother likely thinks she can do better for others than she could for herself, but heaven help her for interfering in matters that aren’t her concern. Between my parents’ sham of a marriage and the battered childhood the Hammonds forced upon you, I know better than anyone that marriage is not for you. Not now, at least.” Ian was Paul’s same age, and yet he sounded so much like a protective older brother that it eased some of the tension from Paul’s shoulders. “The Rebels will help too,” Ian assured him. “We’ve stopped unjust matters from happening in this community before, and it won’t be any different this time.”
Paul blew out a heavy breath. “Thank heavens for the Rebels.” Ian was his closest confidant, and he and their other friends had kept Paul from drawing inward over the years, forcing him to look for ways to better Society instead. “One thing has to be clear before we bring this issue to the Rebels. Arguing with my mother is out of the question. You know how frail she is.” Paul shook his head, not sure of the best way to proceed.
“Your mother sounded stronger than ever arguing for your cause. I’d wager planning your wedding has breathed new life into her.” Ian dropped into a seat and put his feet up on the arm of the chair next to him. “We’ll gather the Rebels and get this sorted before the week is out.”
“It will be a challenge for our friends to help when their families are behind this nonsense.” Would Paul be forced to give in? He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the white stone casing of the fireplace. He was not in the financial position to marry, and his mother knew it... well, she knew half of it. Why, then, had she agreed to involve herself in a disgusting business like matchmaking?
“Don’t worry overmuch,” Ian whispered, digging his thumb into the dimple of his chin as he often did when he was deep in thought. “We have the advantage since we know their plans. The worst that can happen is they actually bring home someone tempting enough to break you.”
Never. Paul knew too well what poverty tasted like, thanks to his time in the courtroom and his association with the Hammonds. His parents, on the other hand, knew only wealth and could not understand his resolution to make his own way. It was his redemption of sorts—a way to right his life from the misdeeds of others. His past was entwined with his soul by stark, unforgettable memories, and no pretty face would alter his course.
chapter 2
On the road between Manchester and Brookeside
June 5, 1821
Louisa rolled her shoulders andthen adjusted the pillow at the small of her back. Her brother had insisted she bring the pillow with them, but it was doing a poor job of helping her endure their long carriage ride.
“Do you want to trade sides?” Logan asked from his position across from her. “I think my seat is deeper and more comfortable.”
“I am perfectly situated.” She was lying through her teeth, but it was part of a game she played with herself: act happy until she was happy. At any rate, she did not want her brother to regret their time together.
“Your squirming says otherwise, but it’s no great surprise. Long carriage rides are insufferable. I’m not sure how you convinced me to sit in here with you and not take my horse.”
“I did no such thing,” Louisa said, pulling two letters from Lady Kellen out of her reticule. “It was all your idea.”
For the first time in a year, Logan had her interests at the forefront of his mind. Lady Kellen and her matchmaking endeavors were proving to be a godsend.
Logan huffed and rubbed at his perpetually tired eyes, nearly hidden under the shadow of his thick unruly black hair. “I don’t care a wit for the aristocracy, but they ought to know you come from a respectable working-class family.”
“There is no question of our position with the enormous success of our cotton and wool factories. Money is nearly as important as birth these days, or why would every titled man be in such hot pursuit of marriage to a lady of fortune?” She tried hard to keep any ire out of her voice when thinking of the men who viewed her only as a means to an end. Let Logan worry about the family status. She would simply rejoice in being locked up in a carriage with him, forced to spend time together. Here her brother could not race off to work and forget she existed.
“I suppose it takes a great deal to keep up their vast estates.” Logan rubbed a stiff shoulder. “Still, Lord Kellen and his wife are greatly esteemed, as will be all their connections, and I won’t have anyone looking down their noses at you. My presence in this carriage is an unfortunate but necessary form of protection against their inevitable snobbery.”
“It was very kind, then, for you to endure this on my behalf.” There was no point arguing with him when the real reason for his mood was clear. She unfolded the first letter and hid her amused smile behind it. The truth was Logan was as nervous as she was about their upcoming visit, though it wasn’t as if he had anything to be truly anxious about. She was the one meeting her future husband, after all.
