My Lady's Choosing: An Interactive Romance Novel(5)
All hope is lost, except for that of financial gain.
“I will marry you, girl,” Sir Charles Burley-Fanshaw leers at you, literally waggling his fingers in a lewd display.
“Fine,” you say. Extremely begrudgingly.
On the day of your wedding, you try to restrain your tears. Oh, how you bitterly regret your choices that led to this moment! The ceremony is conducted, per Sir Charles’s orders, “as swiftly as humanly possible.” Afterwards, he sends you to your dressing room to disrobe for him and, in his words, “the festivities.”
Your flesh crawls as you contemplate your fate. Then you hear an awful cry and a sickening thud!
You run to the bedroom and find your new husband dead on the floor.
How festive.
* * *
It is the start of the next season. You are decked out in a glamorous and expensive black ball gown that suits you perfectly. Lady Evangeline catches your eye from across the ballroom and serves you a delicious wink. All the eligible young men are whispering about you, when they aren’t drinking deep the sight of you in that dress.
“The black widow!”
“They say her husband died of apoplexy on their wedding night!”
“That much of a tiger in the bedroom, don’t you know!”
“Left her an enormous fortune, rich as Croesus!”
“Dash sight better looking than Croesus!”
You smile enigmatically. With your youth, looks, new title, and money, you could do anything your heart desires. But that is for another time…and another story.
The End
“Did some of your sense burn in the fire? I’m not going anywhere, man,” you tell Mac. “I’m fully involved with…with the fate of the orphans. I’m sticking this out, come hell, high water, or Constantina.”
Mac flinches at the name, but his clear eyes blaze with admiration. They also can’t help but follow the trajectory of the parchment as you tuck it into your straining bosom for safekeeping.
You watch as the firefighters finally arrive. They do their best to put out the blaze, but the home has been demolished. Mac’s spirits, too, seem to be sagging.
“Aye,” he says sadly. “Before, I had a home for the orphans that was missing the comforts of such. Now I have the orphans, and nothing else.”
“Not so fast, m’lad!” Abercrombie returns from whatever business he was conducting during the fire. “I just sent word to my people back home in Scotland. I own a ramshackle old place in the Highlands, and it’s yours for the using. Now, a large part of the walls and roof need mending, not to mention that it is far from the only home the orphans know, but—”
“It’ll do!” you and Mac respond in cheerful unison. You beam at each other, and at Abercrombie, and as a result the children respond with wild, happy confusion.
“It’s settled, then!” Abercrombie roars. “I need to stay behind while I sort out a few things, but I suggest you take the orphans to the Highlands straightaway.”
Abercrombie says his farewells, and you and Mac set about arranging travel. “I’m sure Madam Crosby could lend a hand,” you say.
“Or a few other body parts,” says a sweet, thin voice. You turn and see two ladies hovering by you who are, by the looks of them, “professionals” from the nearby Rose & the Smoke. The smaller of the two nods at you and continues speaking.
“The name’s Jane, and this is Gertie.” She gestures to her friend, who has a sumptuous crop of strawberry-blonde hair. “We was wondering…well, you see, I have been wanting to get out of London for quite some time now. But it is hard, miss, when you have been in our line of work, to move on.”
“People don’t like giving girls like us second chances,” Gertie says, nodding in agreement. “And when I heard that you was leaving town, I thought to meself, well what if we went with you?”
“We’d help with the ankle biters, miss!” says Jane. “I’m the oldest of eighteen brothers and sisters. I know how to handle a group of screaming brats!”
“Not that we think your wards are screaming brats,” Gertie says harshly, glaring at her friend. “But we could help look after them…Not being funny, love, but you do seem rushed off your feet.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Timmy screaming as Dodger charges headfirst into an oyster girl, sending shellfish flying across the cobblestones and into several passersby. You and Mac exchange glances and sigh.
“That would be wonderful,” says Mac.
“Oh, thank you, Captain!” exclaim Jane and Gertie.
“No, thank you,” you say vehemently. “However, we do still have the problem of how to get twenty children from London to Scotland. You wouldn’t know where I could procure a wagon or cart of some sort at a reasonable price?”
“We can do you one better than that, love,” says Gertie. “Give us a couple of hours and a chance to call in a few favors, and we will find you one for free!”
A few hours later, a solid, if humble, cart lined with soft straw is ready to be filled with the children.
“You are marvels!” you say to Jane and Gertie.
“We also brought you something else,” says Jane, offering a bundle of sensible but high-quality fabric. “Seeing as your dress got ruined.” You look down and see the smoke-and mud-stained wreck you are wearing. They are not wrong.