I am the legitimate son of our parents, not you. Mother always preferred me, and when we heard you were dead, we rejoiced. Even Father was relieved, for you have never been anything but trouble to him. Now you have spoiled all our plans.”
“Alex, what are you saying?” Ruel looked from his brother to his wife. “Anne?”
“No matter what the truth of his elder son’s parentage may be, the duke has always considered Ruel his heir,” she told Alex. “Ruel was brought up for the duchy, and he is meant to have it. Sir, I beg you to put down the pistol—”
“Never! I have spent years of my life trying to see this useless brother of mine dead. I sent assassins after him to America. They failed to kill him. I shot at him myself from the roadway near Tiverton. Do not look so shocked, Ruel. I wore my hunting greens into the forest and followed you from the churchyard out onto the road. Had you seen the weapon aimed your way, you would have noted it was a fine German Jaeger rifle.”
“Dash it all, Alex!”
“I tried again in Brussels. Thought I had you that time. All the confusion. The crowds. I knew you had been with your scheming little wife by that time, knew you would try to produce an heir to work me completely out of the picture. Clever boy.”
“Alex, do not be preposterous.”
“I missed again. But not this time. Not this time.” He pulled back on the metal hammer, setting it at full cock. “Think I will not do it? Pity, Ruel.”
“Alex, no!” As his brother pulled the trigger, Ruel reached for a pistol from his own coat, but Anne knew he was too late. She screamed. Alexander’s ball tore past his brother’s left shoulder and splintered into the wooden front door. As it did, Alex stiffened, his eyes blank with disbelief.
As he fell forward, Anne saw a hatchet buried in his back, its blade severing his spine. In shock, she looked beyond the fallen man. Near the doorway stood Walker, one hand still outstretched toward his target.
With a cry of anguish, Ruel crouched beside his fallen brother. “Oh, Alex . . .” he murmured, stroking the golden hair of the dead man. “Nothing was worth this.”
Anne knelt near him. “Ruel, your brother would have killed you. His aim was true.”
Brushing a tear from his cheek, Ruel looked up at the man who approached. “Walker, you threw him off. You saved my life.”
“As you saved mine.” The Indian laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “All these years in England, I have lived because of one thing, Ruel. I lived because your friendship gave me hope. Despite the words of your brother and the disfavor of your mother, you are a man of honor. You always treated me well. You were the son I could never have. The brother I had lost so many years before in America.”
“I am not so good as you claim,” Ruel said through clenched teeth. He stood, shaking his head. “My own brother would have killed me for my title and properties. My mother wished me dead. My father—”
“Your father loves you dearly,” Anne spoke up. “I was in the drawing room when he read your letter aloud. Never once did the duke back away from his devotion to you. He called you his son, his heir. He has always believed in you, and you have not disappointed him.”
“Excuse me, please.” Pulling away from them, Ruel strode across the drawing room. Anne heard his footfalls as he ran down a long corridor. Somewhere in the distance, a door to the outside swung open and then slammed shut.
Anne straightened from the washstand and allowed the fragrant, steaming water to run down her neck before she toweled herself dry. She had given Ruel nearly an hour to walk alone in the garden. Mr. Walker and Prudence remained below, giving an account of the incident to the authorities who came from Tiverton to deal with the dreadful occurrence at Slocombe House.
Having chosen to retreat to her room, Anne reflected on the part she had played in the tragedy. In France, she had been certain Sir Alexander meant harm to his brother. The duchess’s words only confirmed that her younger son had wanted the duchy of Marston for himself. There could be no doubt about that.
But to kill his own brother? Common sense argued against it. Alex had always been loving toward Ruel. Yet his dislike of Anne could hardly be termed irrational. In the eyes of Society, she was the lowly housemaid who had entrapped the grand marquess. She might bear a child who would become a duke.
If, indeed, Ruel’s own mother had been the duke’s mistress— a commoner used to sire an heir to the duchy—it was no wonder the duchess resented the older boy. The birth of her own son not long after the duke had declared Ruel his heir must have driven a knife through her heart. The entirety of the situation was enough to infuriate any blue blood.
Anne laid the towel on the washstand. She realized she could destroy her sanity in the attempt to understand exactly how Alex had become his own brother’s worst enemy. The most important thing now was not to focus on death but to be thankful for life. She must convince Ruel of her love for him. Nothing mattered more than their future.
She splashed the scent of lavender on her wrists and elbows and then went to her trunk. Lifting the lid, Anne took out a new blue gown. Would Ruel understand what she intended by wearing this copy of the one he had given her? Would he know the significance of the Honiton lace panel she had mended? She could only pray he would.
Ruel’s gray eyes burned as Anne walked toward him across the grass in the rose garden. Her heart stumbled and began to thud. They had been quick to embrace each other on first meeting again, but now she felt shy. Awkward. He was taller than she remembered, broader of shoulder, his hair blacker. The faded scar trailed in a curve across his cheek, and she remembered the night a lead ball had nearly taken his life.
“Walker spoke to me a few minutes ago,” he said. “He is not to be charged with Alex’s death.”
Anne clutched the edges of her shawl. “I am glad. Prudence will be . . .” She stammered as his hand reached out to her. “Prudence is so very . . .”
“Anne, I am not the least bit interested in Miss Watson at the moment.” He slipped his fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her head as she drifted toward him. “I still can hardly believe you are here. Walking in the garden, I began to doubt my own senses. Perhaps you had not really come. Perhaps Alex was still alive.”
She rubbed her cheek against his hand. “I might have prevented everything. Had I been able to make you see—”
“Alex was poisoned by my mother—” he paused—“by the duchess . . . while I was in America. He was no longer the brother and friend I believed him to be. He would have killed me.”
“He tried many times.”
“Until this moment, I have understood so little. I existed in a sort of trance, unable to see truth. Unwilling to weed out the wrong and embrace the right. I placed value on worthless things and failed to honor everything significant. I did not understand God as I do now, nor did I allow Him the rightful place in my life.”
“I, too, have made great errors in judgment.”
“But, Anne, you are the one who brought me to my senses. The moment I first laid eyes on you, I began to awaken. The moment I heard your voice. The moment I listened to you weave a spell around that little urchin in the kitchen.” He folded her into his embrace. “Anne, you have brought me such joy, such purpose . . . such love.”
Slipping her arms around him, she laid her head on his chest. “We are quite a pair. We have played at charades, danced around each other, argued incessantly—”
“I stole your lace just to annoy you.”
“Did you?”
“You are the only woman who ever verbally fenced with me. And you parried my every move.” He traced his finger over the outline of her lips. “You are a wily creature, Anne Webster.”
“Am I?” She smiled. “You are the man who turned Solomon’s Song into a lyric of seduction.”
“Is it not?” He stroked the pad of his thumb down her cheek. “Can you deny it is the love song of a man to his wife?”
“Perhaps not.” She sighed. “Oh, Ruel, I can hardly believe you are real. After that last night in Brussels, I wanted nothing but you. And then I lost you.”
“Never again.”
She looked up into his eyes, marveling at the depth of love in their gray pools. “Kiss me, Ruel,” she begged. “I have ached for this moment.”
“No.” He swallowed and gritted his teeth. Taking her shoulders, he set her a little away from him. “I have something to say to you, and I refuse to speak the words in the heat of passion.”
A momentary fear gripped her. “What is it?”
He took her arms, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Anne, I love you.”
“Ruel . . .”
“I love you, Anne. You must hear it, and hear it again. This is not a charade, not a game, not a ruse. I say it not for the benefit of Society and not to manipulate you in any way. Our bargain is ended, and our real marriage is begun. Standing before God, with Christ as my witness, and in the truth of the Holy Spirit I swear this vow. I love you, Anne. I always shall.”
She bit her lip to hold back the tears and nodded.
“I felt it from the moment we met,” he went on, “but not until Waterloo did I truly know how deeply I loved you. I meant to say the words. And then I lost you. I have lived with that pain until it has nearly broken me.”
“Oh, Ruel.” She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. “I felt your love, or I would not have come to Devon in the hope of finding it again. Ruel, I love you. I love you.”
“My wife,” he murmured, pressing his lips to hers at last.
“My dearest . . . only . . . forever love.”
After reading the tale of the bachelor’s bargain, please peruse Miss Pickworth’s ponderings. She has a quantity of questions, and she wonders if you, dear reader, may come to any clever conclusions.
1. Was Anne Webster right or wrong to take matters into her own hands to save her family? What bargain did she make with Ruel Chouteau, Lord Blackthorne? How did this bargain promise to benefit each of them? What effect did the bargain end up having on them?
2. Can you see the very great differences between the upper and lower classes during the Regency? What are some of these differences?
3. How was Anne, a lower-class serving girl, able to converse so intelligently with the Duke of Marston and his two sons?
4. Prudence slipped into depression after her sister Sarah went on a sea journey and her sister Mary became preoccupied with the coming birth of her baby. Do you think Prudence is a Christian? Can Christians become depressed? What was done for Prudence during this dark time? What can Christians do to deal with depression?
5. What do you think of Mr. Walker’s life story? Why did the blacksmith stay in England instead of returning to America? What is his primary characteristic?
6. Why did Anne fear becoming a real wife to Ruel by allowing him into her bed? What would the consequences be for her? for her family?
7. What sort of man is Lord Blackthorne at the start of
The Bachelor’s Bargain
? Is he different at the end? If so, what has changed him?
8. What was Anne’s attitude toward God at the beginning of the book? Was her behavior consistent with her attitude? Is she different at the end? If so, what has changed her?
9. Does God promise to give Christians an easy life if they obey Him? What will He do if His followers disobey Him? Can God still love believers and use them if they make terrible mistakes? What if these wrong things are not mistakes but are outright, purposeful sins—can God forgive them? Does God’s forgiveness mean that believers have permission to do whatever they want?
10. Read Romans 7:14–8:2 to meet someone who struggled with disobedience. You might be very surprised!
The trouble is not with the law, for it is spiritual and good.
The trouble is with me, for I am all too human, a slave to
sin. I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what
is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate. But if I
know that what I am doing is wrong, this shows that I agree
that the law is good. So I am not the one doing wrong; it is
sin living in me that does it.
And I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my
sinful nature. I want to do what is right, but I can’t. I want
to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is
wrong, but I do it anyway. But if I do what I don’t want to
do, I am not really the one doing wrong; it is sin living in me
that does it.
I have discovered this principle of life—that when I want
to do what is right, I inevitably do what is wrong. I love
God’s law with all my heart. But there is another power
within me that is at war with my mind. This power makes
me a slave to the sin that is still within me. Oh, what a
miserable person I am! Who will free me from this life that is
dominated by sin and death? Thank God! The answer is in
Jesus Christ our Lord. So you see how it is: In my mind I
really want to obey God’s law, but because of my sinful
nature I am a slave to sin.
So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to
Christ Jesus. And because you belong to him, the power of
the life-giving Spirit has freed you from the power of sin that
leads to death.