The Rose Bargain

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Brother.”

Emmett extends his hands toward Bram, and the familiar mask of cool detachment drops over his face.

“I beg of you, stop treating me like I’m a child,”

Bram snaps. I’ve never seen him look like this. His hair is disheveled, his burgundy velvet coat hanging half-off one shoulder, and his face, usually open and kind, is shattered, as if he might be on the verge of tears.

“I’m certain I don’t know what you’re referring to,”

Emmett says.

“Lady Ivy Benton,”

Bram snarls. “I just saw you two together in the garden. You looked rather close.”

“There was a bee I was shooing away—you know how ladies are,”

Emmett answers.

Bram throws his hands up. “Do you expect me to believe these weak excuses? Please do me the honor of not insulting my intelligence. I saw you in the boathouse too.”

The color drains from Emmett’s face.

“I’m not naive,”

Bram continues. “I knew not every girl who entered to be my bride would fall in love with me, but I did not expect to be betrayed by my own brother.”

His voice cracks. It would be easier if he were angry with us, but he just looks so sad.

“It’s not what you think,”

Emmett insists.

“Do you love her?”

Bram asks.

“No, of course not,”

Emmett says emphatically. It stings more than it should.

“At least if you loved her, I could understand,”

Bram says. “But if you’re just sneaking around to—”

Ever the gentleman, he stops short of saying it aloud. The implications make my face burn.

“We’re not sneaking around. I barely know her. I tried to seduce her mad sister once, and it went so poorly I’d be a fool to try another Benton girl. Give me some credit, at least.”

Emmett lays a hand on his brother’s shoulder, but Bram shakes it off and crosses the room, pacing like a caged animal.

“Bram, please just listen,”

Emmett begs.

“Listen to what, more lies?”

“Please don’t shout. Making a scene at a party is my specialty, not yours.”

“I know you weren’t at camp that night,”

Bram says, and Emmett goes deadly still. Dread pools in my stomach, and the sickly sweet tea cake goes sour in the back of my throat.

“Of course we were—”

Emmett tries, but Bram raises a hand to silence him.

“Stop lying to me,”

he shouts. Then he sinks down onto the love seat that I’m hiding behind. I can only see the backs of his shoes. “Please don’t lie to me,”

he says once more, his voice a whisper. I remember what Emmett said about the fae, that Bram is incapable of lying. A hairline crack traces the center of my heart as it breaks for him.

Emmett’s eyes well with tears at the sight of Bram so upset. I feel helpless and overwhelmed, my heart beating in my throat like I might throw up my guts all over the Duke of Hinchingbrook’s expensive carpets.

Emmett sighs deeply. “Lady Ivy asked for my help in getting to know you. She’s inexperienced. I pitied her. I hoped if I helped her, you’d pick her, not Faith Fairchild.”

“You could have just told me you didn’t want me to pick Faith.”

“I should have, I know that now. I was being stupid. I didn’t want you playing with my toys.”

“Where were you that night?”

Bram asks. He doesn’t sound angry, just sad.

“I took a horse and cart and went to the coaching inn in Alton to drown myself in ale. I’m a horrible shot, and I didn’t wish to embarrass myself on your birthday. I’m sorry for my pride.”

“You’re not that bad a shot.”

“You’re being too kind, as always.”

“What about Lady Ivy Benton?”

Bram asks.

“I haven’t the slightest idea. Probably sick in her tent like she said. If any of the servants said she was with me, they were only generating pointless gossip. That would be scandalous, wouldn’t it?”

Bram sighs heavily. “You swear it?”

“I swear it,”

Emmett offers immediately. “She’s not my type at all, so overly coddled by that embarrassing family of hers.”

Anger rises like bile in my throat. I can’t believe he’s using what I told him in confidence as a weapon.

“She’s a lovely girl,”

Bram says in my defense.

“Oh, without a doubt, and she’ll make a perfect bride for you, but I could never be content with a girl like that . . .”

He trails off.

“Like what?”

“That inelegant.”

I think of beautiful Faith Fairchild and the way she walks, like she’s floating. Anger rises in my throat. I know Emmett can’t tell Bram anything other than of course I don’t want her, but this rejection feels personal.

“I happen to like her the way she is,”

Bram replies.

“All the better. Come, brother, let’s steal a bottle of champagne and leave this horrible party. I’m not having any fun. There’s only one pretty girl here, and I’ve already had her. I’m bored.”

Faith, again. Always Faith.

Bram stands and Emmett approaches the couch. There’s a rustle of fabric as he slings his arm around Bram’s shoulder. The door closes behind them, leaving me alone in the room, my heart beating like I’ve just run a mile.

I swipe away my tears with the heels of my hands and enough pressure to bruise.

Emmett is right. We aren’t a match.

As soon as the door slams behind them, I spring from my hiding spot, press my ear against the door until I’m sure the coast is clear, and then run down the hallway, back into the thick of the party.

That night, once everyone else is asleep, I sneak out of the cottage and through the palace tunnels to Emmett’s room, for what I hope will be the last time.

Pig greets me at the hidden door, wagging his tail so hard his whole body shakes. Emmett is at his desk, reading by candlelight. He jumps as I enter.

“Ivy?”

There’s no time for him to put on his cold mask of detachment. He’s staring at me, like he’s looking for something. His words from earlier play in my head. Coddled. Inelegant. A girl like that.

“Just one question, and then I’ll go. I’ll never ask again.”

He just nods, something dark flickering behind his eyes.

“Did you mean what you said to Bram? That I’m not the kind of girl you could ever want?”

“Don’t make me answer that,”

Emmett replies tightly.

“Please, I just need to hear you say it.”

Give me closure, I want to beg, then maybe I will stop remembering how your hands felt in the dark.

Emmett looks out the dark window. There are no stars tonight. “You’re making a fool of yourself, Ivy. Bram is going to be a wonderful husband. But you and I?”

He sighs, his voice remote. “There was never going to be a you and I. I’m sorry if I ever made you think differently.”

I get the impression that this is a well-worn rejection speech, one he’s given to dozens of lovesick girls just as foolish as me.

Greer Trummer

When my mother first told me that I couldn’t speak to Ivy anymore, I cried for a week. Then she sold my second favorite horse and told me she’d sell the other if I let my blubbering get in the way of preparing for the season, so the tears dried up quick. There was no winning with Mama. After eighteen years, I knew it well enough. She’d mostly stopped hitting me when I turned sixteen, but sometimes I wish she’d start again. Her psychological games are worse because they’re so much harder to predict.

Mama never liked the Benton sisters. They were so completely themselves, and I think that scared her, because Mama didn’t want me to be anything but her perfect little soldier. I didn’t know what a family looked like until I sat at the Bentons’ dining table and watched them gossip and debate things like art and philosophy. No one was told to lower their voice—that surprised me most.

Ivy would sometimes make biting comments about how she lived permanently in my shadow, but I was jealous of her too. Our jealousy fed on itself until it tangled into the very fabric of our relationship.

I wasn’t entirely surprised when Lydia ruined her family. She’d lived with the recklessness of someone who’d been told her whole life she was perfect. She didn’t fear missteps, because every step she’d ever taken had been met with applause. She was good at this life of ours. She loved being on display, living as if she were on a stage and this was all some big game. When I was small, I thought I hated her; now I have enough self-awareness to know what I was feeling had another name: envy. It doesn’t matter much now, there’s no use in dwelling on it.

But something changed the year of Lydia’s debut. Ivy would turn up at my house with a worried look on her face and stories of whatever had happened the night before. Lydia wasn’t getting any callers, let alone any offers.

Between that and Lydia’s lack of a public bargain, it was an embarrassment, a blight on the family, and I pitied Ivy because she didn’t seem to realize it yet. She was too busy being worried about her sister to be worried for herself.

Everyone always thought Lydia would marry Percival Chapwick. The day she refused his proposal, Ivy came over and wept in my bed all evening. “She promised,”

she wailed. I’ve never been good with people crying.

I wasn’t like the Benton sisters. I’ve always known exactly what my bargain would be. Mama and I decided it together when I was ten and it became clear I wasn’t going to grow into my nose. I’d spend hours looking at myself in the mirror, Mama just over my shoulder. She’d stroke her pinkie over the bridge and say “just there.”

It felt something like love. It was the only way she knew how to take care of me.

The Benton girls had none of our practicality.

It’s why Ivy made a good best friend. She always had stories about faerie kings, or she wanted to make little houses out of leaves for the ducklings. I loved living in her world with her. I relished evenings at the Benton home, where no one was screaming. Her parents seemed to really like each other; I didn’t even know that was possible until I met them.

Friends are tricky in this business of ours.

It hurt to leave her behind, but I knew why I had to do it. I snipped the threads that bound me to her like I was finishing an embroidery. I loved Ivy, but not enough to let her ruin me.

I learned at my mother’s knee how to shove feelings deep down until I couldn’t reach them anymore. Ivy fit well in that dark place.

Her absence in my life left a hole in more ways than one. I’d lost not only a confidante and a friend, but also a way to fill my time. The hours I’d usually spend with Ivy were suddenly freed up. I took to going to the stables early in the morning, before fittings or etiquette lessons or promenades around the park. I was mostly avoiding my mother, but it was nice to stroke my horse’s neck and braid her mane.

It was there that I first started talking to Joseph again.

We’d been friends when we were young, and he used to let Ivy and me torment him. We’d chase him down and tie ribbons in his hair until he squirmed away from us. But he’d grown into nearly a man. I didn’t even realize he still worked for our family, thought maybe he’d gone away to school or something.

But there he was, in the dappled morning light of the stables, an apron on and a farrier’s file in his hand.

“Milady.”

His voice was so deep it made me jump. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

I startled, which startled the horse, who whinnied and bucked. I stumbled backward and tripped over the hem of my dress. I would have gone flying into the stone floor of the mews if Joseph hadn’t caught me.

I remember looking up at him and realizing I’d never really seen him at all. “I’ve got you”

was all he said, and I fell in love right then and there.

I went to the stables every morning after that. We’d sip tea together on bales of hay, and he taught me how to polish the tack. He was the first person who had truly listened to me since Ivy.

I scrubbed my hands raw so Mama wouldn’t see the black smudge of polish under my fingernails. We all laughed at Olive’s bargain, which left her with no nails, but honestly, she may have been smarter than the rest of us.

Joseph was too polite to kiss me, even though I’d hinted at it for weeks. In the end, I’m the one who had to lean in. It was a gray morning, misty with rain, and I raised up on my toes and pressed my lips to his in the doorway of the barn. He was so startled he didn’t move, and I thought I’d misread everything. I pulled back, and he looked at me with his big blue eyes, then lifted me off my feet and confessed he’d loved me all his life. It was everything I’d ever wanted.

We met in secret for months. Joseph begged me to run away with him, said he’d use his bargain for a carriage fast enough to carry us to the Scottish border, or to have both our families forget we ever existed, so we could live in peace, but I wasn’t brave like him. I looked at my nose in the mirror and stuck to my mother’s plan.

Mama caught us on the morning of the Pact Parade. It was reckless, I knew that, but I needed to say goodbye. He’d made me promise to show him my old face one last time. I didn’t tell him then, but I had it all worked out. I’d marry some stodgy old widower and hire Joseph to work in our stables. We could live a life together, even if it was only in the shadows.

Mama barreled into the stables and caught us just as the sun rose. The fury on her face screwed up her features so intensely, for a moment I didn’t recognize her. She dragged me by my hair back up to my room, and Joseph knew well enough not to stop her. She hit me on my stomach so the bruises wouldn’t show through my Pact Parade gown, used the heels of her hands so the blows landed sharp and precise. My father watched, his arms folded across his broad chest, and told me it was all my fault, that I should have known better.

I think maybe my mother dragged me to the dais to compete for Bram’s hand because she wanted an excuse to take a knife to me, to watch me bleed. But the joke was on her. I didn’t feel a thing when she cut me.

When I entered the queen’s throne room to make my bargain, I was so numb I couldn’t think, so I asked for what Mama and I had always planned. I regret that now.

I was surprised when Queen Mor looked down at me with a quirked head and asked, “What is it you are most afraid of, Lady Trummer?”

No one had ever asked me that, not even Joseph.

I settled on “having to tell the truth.”

It was the truest answer I could think of, and one day, maybe, I’d be able to laugh at the irony in that. I’d built a life based on lies; I was honest enough with myself to know that. I told my mother I loved her. I told Joseph I’d be his forever. I acted like I didn’t miss Ivy at all.

I planned a life in which I’d keep lying—to my eventual husband, to my mother, to myself.

The queen just laughed as I told her, and she said, “I’ve always admired skilled liars.”

I walked out of that room with a new face and turned right at the door, the queen’s laughter still echoing behind me.

Joseph gasped when he saw me for the first time.

I snuck to his closet-size room in the staff quarters the night of the Pact Parade. I was surprised to find him there. I thought for certain my mother would have fired him, but she knew keeping him around would hurt me more. The flickering of his lantern lit up my new face. “Aren’t I prettier now?”

He hesitated, and it made me angry enough that I was sick to my stomach. “Tell me I’m prettier now, Joseph.”

“I thought you were perfect before.”

He was still polishing the saddle he was working on, like he couldn’t bear to look at me.

An errant tear rolled down my cheek. “You’re wrong. You’re a stable boy, what would you know about refined taste?”

I pushed and pushed until he said it, even though I could see in his face that he didn’t believe it. “You’re prettier now,”

he said, but he wasn’t as good a liar as I was. In fact, he was rotten at it.

“I know,”

I replied.

“You’ll be a princess,”

he said later, as he traced my bare shoulder when we were in his bed together.

I could tell he believed it. I shook my head. “Probably not. He’ll pick Marion.”

My hand stung where Mama had cut me.

“How could anyone not want you?”

But he didn’t look at my face as he said it, like he couldn’t anymore.

It’s been easy enough to sneak away to see him. Viscountess Bolingbroke sleeps like a log, and my parents’ residence is walking distance from the palace. I sometimes see Ivy’s shadowy figure crossing the lawn at the same time. I hope it’s to see Bram. I’d be happy for her.

I sneak through the streets at dawn and meet Joseph in the barn, just as the first rays of light stream through the dust of the tack room. He closes his eyes as he kisses me, and it’s like nothing has changed at all.

When Bram chooses some other girl and I’m a confirmed spinster, I’ll move back home and we’ll continue as we were. No one ever needs to know the truth.