Say You Love Me(4)

She had to do this, too? When it was doubtful that she’d be able to think of anything other than the appalling truth of what she’d agreed to?

She’d been ready to finish off that bottle of spirits herself by the time she left him. But she had come up with a weak excuse to tell the others. She’d told Aunt Elizabeth that Anne, one of her friends from Kettering, had written that she was seriously ill, the doctors not offering much hope. Kelsey had to visit, of course, and give what comfort she could. And Uncle Elliott had offered to escort her.

Elizabeth hadn’t noticed anything amiss. Kelsey’s pallor could be credited to worry over her friend. And Jean, bless her, didn’t badger her with her usual hundreds of questions simply because she didn’t recognize the name of this particular friend. But, then, Jean had matured a great deal during the past year. A tragedy in the family had a way of interrupting childhood, sometimes permanently. Kelsey would almost have preferred the hundreds of questions from her twelve-year-old sister that used to test her patience. But Jean was still mourning.

And when Kelsey didn’t return home from the visit to Kettering? Well, she would have to worry about that later. Would she ever even see her sister or Aunt Elizabeth again? Did she dare, when they might discover the truth? She didn’t know. Right then, she only knew that nothing would ever be the same for her again.





2




“Come on, dearie, it’s time.”

Kelsey stared at the tall, thin man standing in the open doorway. She’d been told to call him Lonny, the only name given when she was turned over to him yesterday. He was the owner of the house—the person about to sell her to the highest bidder.

There was nothing about him to suggest that he was a purveyor of vice and flesh. He dressed like any lord. He was pleasant-looking. He spoke in cultured tones—at least while Uncle Elliott had still been there. As soon as her uncle left, however, Lonny’s speech slipped occasionally into the not so refined, indicating his true background. Yet he’d continued to be kind.

He had explained to her, very carefully, that because such a large sum of money was going to be paid for her, she wouldn’t have the option of ending the arrangement as a normal mistress would. The gentleman who bought her would have to be guaranteed that he would be getting his money’s worth for as long as he wanted it.

She’d had to agree to that, which in her mind seemed just short of slavery. She’d have to stay with the man whether she liked him or not, whether he treated her well or not, until he no longer cared to support her.

“And if I don’t?” she’d dared to ask.

“Well, dearie, you really don’t want to find out what would happen in that case,” he’d told her, and in such a tone that she’d felt her very life threatened. But then he’d gone on to further explain, in a more chiding voice, as if she should know all this already, “The arrangements I make, I guarantee personally. I can’t have my reputation ruined on the whims of a girl who decides later that she doesn’t like the bargain she’s made. No one would participate in these sales if that were the case, now, would they?”

“You have many sales like this?”

“This will be the fourth one that I have held here, though the first from your background. Most of the gentry who find themselves in your predicament manage to marry their daughters off to rich husbands to settle their difficulties. A shame your uncle didn’t try to make a match for you. You don’t strike me as the mistress sort.”

She hadn’t known whether to be insulted or pleased by that, had said merely, “There wasn’t enough time to arrange a marriage, as my uncle told you.”

“Yes, but still, a pity. Now, shall we get you settled in for the night? You will be presented tomorrow night, after I’ve had time to send out the word to those gentlemen I feel might be interested. Hopefully, one of my girls will have something appropriate for you to wear for the presentation. A mistress must look like a mistress, if you get my meaning, not one’s sister.” And he’d given her a critical once-over. “While your ensemble might be lovely, dearie, it’s more appropriate for a garden tea. Unless you’ve brought something suitable…?”

She’d had to shake her head, actually embarrassed to be looking so…ladylike.

He’d sighed. “Well, we’ll find something, I’m sure,” he’d said as he led her out of the parlor and upstairs to a room she could use for the night.

Like the rest of the large house, the room was very tastefully furnished, and she’d politely remarked on that. “Very nice.”