The Bride Price

Chapter Two

If Emily ever crossed paths with Marbley again, she would kiss his hand in gratitude.

Since the moment he had singled her out, she had not missed a single dance. Gentlemen young and old had made every effort to put themselves forward for her particular attention, and several had even made promises to call on her at Lady Barrowe's townhouse the next day. There was no denying that this evening had been a complete and total success, and she still had another hundred evenings such as these to look forward to.

"Now... hold... still!" Josephine chided, a half dozen hairpins clenched between her teeth. The two young women had sequestered themselves in a small retiring room set apart from the ballroom, the better to fix their hair and their hems and simply give themselves a moment to rest. "I swear, you're as fidgety as a child at the back of a church." She plucked a pin from her mouth and stabbed at one of Emily's errant curls. "Just a few more..."

"Ouch!" Emily clapped her hand to the side of her head and pulled back in alarm. "Are you trying to injure me?"

"I am trying to put your hair back to rights," Josephine explained before she pinched another one of Emily's curls and fastened it securely above her ear. "Several hours of dancing, and perspiring, and attempting inane conversation with people who are judging your every move does not exactly lend itself towards the upkeep of one's coiffure."

Another curl, another hastily placed pin, and Emily managed to restrain her outcry to a small wince. "But it's an impossible task to remain unruffled for an entire evening..."

"... and a good portion of the morning," her friend added, indicating the fact that midnight had come and gone some hours before. "You cannot appear to be weak or easily exhausted. Well, unless you've set your sights on a man who prefers his women to be a gaggle of mincing, missish, fainting fools. Then you can play the victim and permit him to come to your aid."

Emily blew out a breath that stirred the lock of blonde hair dangling between her eyes. "You're teasing me again, aren't you?"

Josephine laughed. "Oh, if only that were true. But, Em..." She lowered herself until she was at eye level with her friend. Abandoning Emily's curls, she took her hands and squeezed them firmly. "I warn you now, you're going to meet an inordinate amount of men who will want nothing more than for you to play a part, so to speak. You will be expected to laugh at their jokes, to flatter them to the skies... and then, once you're married, whether he is kind or cruel, whether he drinks or he gambles, whether he chooses to consort with angels or whores, it will lay on your shoulders to continue to smile and laugh and allow him into your bed no matter how many nights he may choose to keep away from it."

Emily's breath froze in her lungs. She had heard words like these before. Two years before, in fact. And from her mother's own lips. So perhaps the speech should not have been as shocking as it was. But still, her mouth worked over a reply she could not bring herself to make, and the thought of how much she wished for her mother's guiding hand at this moment brought a harsh, searing pain to the center of her chest.

"I know how desperate you are to be married," Josephine continued.

"My sisters," Emily breathed, blinking back tears. "If I can make a good match, then it will be so much easier when it comes time for them to find husbands of their own. And if I happen to find a man who is... well, not poor, then—"

"—then everything will be perfect and wonderful and you and your family will never again face adversity for the rest of your days." Josephine raised a dark eyebrow. "I do apologize. I know that it is easy to joke when we're out there, being accosted by every spotty young man who labors under the misapprehension that lavender is a flattering color on a gentleman—"