“Give me one good reason why Madeline shouldn’t propose to Charles Bray.” Rosalie stood at Madeline’s side in the back garden, a fur-trimmed cape pulled up around her face, framing her dark curls and rosy cheeks in a halo of purest white. She pulled her cape tighter around herself, staring daggers at Burke and James.
It was Madeline’s idea to take a walk in the back garden before breakfast. She needed air. She needed…escape.
But she now regretted the idea immensely.
As soon as Rosalie agreed to it, the men began to protest, arguing that the ground was too icy, and Rosalie was in too delicate a state. This merely incensed the duchess, who stormed off with mutterings about feathers and nests, dragging Madeline along behind her. Now Madeline stood freezing in her borrowed clothes, a matching cape with a silver fur hood pulled up around her face.
The back gardens glistened, with all the hedges encased in a layer of frost. The smell of looming snow hung heavy in the air. Both the gentlemen demanded to join them on their walk, boxing Rosalie in on either side. Madeline thought it was sweet to see how well they cared for her. It made her all the more aware of how very alone she was, standing off to the side, watching Rosalie be treated like a crystal vase.
“Well?” the duchess pressed, glancing from James to Burke.
“He’s not a peer,” the duke replied at once. “Lord Raleigh would surely be apoplectic at the mere idea of his only daughter marrying a lowly curate.”
“Remember, he’s a vicar now,” Burke said. “Christ, she’ll likely have a miserable life listening to him practice his sermons at dinner every night. Are you sure you want that, Madeline?” he said her.
Before she could reply, James huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, the bottom half of his face tucked inside a scarf, muffling his voice. “He has no social connections of note outside of our family. He’ll bring her nothing in the marriage. If anything, he’ll bring her down. Doors won’t open, Madeline,” he said directly at her. “They’ll only close if you pursue this match.”
Madeline’s heart raced. Both men spoke sense, and she trusted their opinions absolutely. They had nothing to gain from lying to her. In fact, their every action so far convinced her of their loyalty and friendship.
If James Corbin and Horatio Burke said Mr. Bray wasn’t a suitable match for her, she had to believe them, right? In her heart, she knew it to be true. At least by her parent’s exacting standards, by society’s standards, Mr. Bray was not an option.
But Rosalie was having none of it. She popped her hands on her hips, glancing between the men with her chin upturned. Her dark eyes blazed. “Madeline doesn’t need a landed peer with vast social connections and a key to open all of London’s doors. She needs a kind man, Burke. A good man.”
“Lord, here she goes,” Burke muttered, rolling his eyes.
“Yes, here I go,” she replied, meeting his scorn with fierce determination. “When I met Mr. Bray three years ago, I thought he was a fine man. There is no avarice in him, no need to dominate or control. Madeline can trust him,” she pressed. “Not just with her money, but with herself.”
Madeline nodded, knowing Rosalie’s assessment to be true. She’d seen it for herself. Charles Bray was a good person. He was kind and gentle, he listened when a lady talked. Perhaps it wasn’t the worst idea…
“And breeding is hardly the only measure of a man,” Rosalie went on. “Certainly, in Madeline’s case, with a dowry and a fortune at play, she can afford to make a somewhat surprising choice. If she can live with the potential social ramifications, who are we to stand in her way?”
“But you must consider how Lord Raleigh may react when he finds out,” urged James. “He could deny Bray the dowry out of spite. He could make it so that Bray gets nothing.” He turned to Madeline, those green eyes piercing in their intensity. “What will you do then? Will you share your fortune with him? If your father uses his influence to shut every social door against Bray, will you fund a living for him?”
A chill settled in Madeline’s chest. She hadn’t thought of that. It was clear by the slight dip in Rosalie’s shoulders that she hadn’t considered it either.
“Nothing is ever certain,” James pressed. “If you make Bray an offer of marriage, promising him use of a dowry, you better know you can deliver on that promise.”
Rosalie turned to face her. “Would Lord Raleigh be so vindictive?”
Madeline chewed her bottom lip, glancing around at the three faces waiting for her to speak aloud the truth that had slowly unraveled her over the past two days. Who was her father? Did she even know? What would he do to get his way, even against his own daughter? “I…I don’t know,” she murmured, tears stinging her. “I think…I think perhaps he might, yes.”
“Might what?” Burke urged.
“He might punish me for this,” she replied. “He will…he’ll punish me. And he’ll never accept Mr. Bray as a son-in-law.”
“But he cannot touch your fortune?” James pressed.
Madeline shook her head. “The money is mine. Aunt Maude was careful. If I meet her condition, no one else can touch it but me.”
“So, you have to decide which matters more to you,” James reasoned. “Do you want to find a peer who will meet your father’s expectations and turn over your dowry to him, settling into a marriage of convenience? Or do you want to marry a man like Bray, a man who will be kind and careful and considerate…but likely reliant on you for support?”
“You would be mistress of the house,” said Burke. “Bray would be your kept man,” he added with a smirk. “But at least he seems content to keep working. His vicar’s salary will be a tidy sum, enough to cover your yearly expenses for tea and biscuits.”
Madeline glanced to Rosalie, eyes wide.
But the duchess just shook her head. “I cannot possibly decide this for you. This must be your choice, Madeline. You will be the one who must live with it.”
Madeline glanced out over the sweeping expanse of the Alcott gardens towards the little village of Finchley. Mr. Bray was somewhere there. What would he think of such an arrangement? Could he ever agree to her terms?
It felt impossible to have to make this decision now, but if she didn’t marry within the next three weeks, she would miss this chance entirely.
And then my father wins.
She stiffened, tears she refused to shed stinging her eyes.
It all came down to a roll of the dice. The great gamble. She could propose, they could marry, and a life she never thought possible would unfold before her eyes. It would be a whirlwind courtship, with no time for a proper engagement. No, they must marry at once. Then they would settle into a new life, learning together what it meant to be husband and wife as they stumbled along, yoked to one another by holy vows.
Where would they live? He wanted to work, he said. Would she be expected to move to Bredbury? Heaven, forbid. If all the gossip was to be believed, the north of England held absolutely no charms to recommend it. One had to pass by York entirely and journey on to Scotland.
Perhaps he’d be willing to live with her at Leary House and take up some position in Town. Or what if he wanted to go on to Bredbury without her? They could live their lives separately, as she’d originally intended.
Why then did the idea suddenly feel like it had lost a bit of its luster? What was this feeling churning in her gut? Discomfort? Did it bother her to think of living worlds away from him?
James cleared his throat, drawing her back to the present. “We can do nothing more until you’ve spoken with Bray,” he said. “Luckily for you, he’ll be here at ten.”
“Why did you want to speak with him?” Rosalie said with a raised brow.
“I have a question to put to him,” James replied. “It may help, actually. If Lord Raleigh is determined to be vindictive, Bray will need someone of rank in his corner. They both will.”
Burke stilled. “Oh, James,” he groaned. “Really? Bray?”
“He’s perfect,” James replied.
“Well, when you finish with him, send him to speak to Madeline,” said Rosalie.
Madeline glanced sharply between them. “I must speak with him now? This morning?”
“No time like the present,” Burke replied with a shrug.
Now her heart really was racing. How was she supposed to discuss such a thing with him? What did she even say?
As if the duchess could read her thoughts, Rosalie wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Just be yourself, Madeline. You do have a little time, you know. You need not propose to him at this first meeting. Let us arrange a private meeting for the two of you and just…talk to each other,” she said gently. “Get to know him without the pressure of our prying eyes watching you.”
Behind her, Burke nodded.
Just talk.
They made it sound so easy.
