The Bargain by Jane Ashford

communication with both through the mails.
    Near the end of a wide corridor, Alan knocked on a paneled door and was bade enter. He turned the knob and stepped into the small, exquisite room where his mother spent her private hours. Striped paper of cream and deep green was accented by a touch of gilt; the draperies and carpet were the same dark green, and the chamber was made unique by a collection of odd items from around the world, gathered during various family members’ travels. An arrangement of six small portraits dominated one wall—the Gresham brothers, each painted at the age of five years. Alan cast the pictures a slightly jaundiced glance as he moved forward to kiss his mother’s cheek.
    One look at Adele Gresham, Duchess of Langford, made it immediately apparent where the red hair came from in the family. Her fashionably dressed locks were of a rich deep color between chestnut and strawberry, only very lightly touched with gray. She was a tall woman, rather angular, with arching brows and an aquiline nose. In combination with her direct, discerning gaze, these features led many to conclude that she was self-absorbed and snobbish. And her inability to tolerate fools and poseurs added to this reputation. She had grown up as a great beauty, a great heiress, and child of a great noble family. She had married suitably, dutifully, and been fortunate enough to find love in her marriage. She was a woman of immense dignity and presence, but beneath all this, she also had a great heart, and ample room in it for her most eccentric, unpersuadable son.
    â€œSo, you have come to see me at last,” she said, looking him over carefully but making no comment on his plain garments. “And after only two weeks in London. Fancy that.”
    â€œWe have met at a number of gatherings,” was the mild reply.
    â€œOf course. And we could have nothing to say to one another that could not be said publicly at an evening party. I suppose you want something, and that is why you have come?”
    Accustomed to his mother’s arch manner, Alan merely smiled. “What news from James and Randolph?” he asked.
    Her expression softened. “Nothing from James in two months, except that.”
    Following her pointing finger, Alan observed a wooden carving in the shape of a small, squat human figure with a large head. “Something from the islands? Why do you have it facing the wall?”
    His mother grimaced. “See for yourself.”
    Stretching out an arm, Alan turned the figure, and saw that it possessed greatly exaggerated male organs in a highly visible state. Indeed, it was difficult to observe anything else about the figure, one’s attention was so immediately riveted. He began to laugh.
    â€œVery funny,” said the duchess dryly. “Unless the package happens to arrive when one has morning callers, and one opens it in front of two very stuffy women and their seventeen-year-old daughters.”
    â€œYou should have known better, with a packet from James,” answered Alan, still laughing.
    She nodded. “So I should. It is a mistake I shall never repeat.” Her lips twitched very slightly. “But who knows what effect the incident may have on those two young girls’ lives?”
    â€œFor shame!” Alan said with a laugh.
    â€œYou know my views on the education of females,” was the severe reply. “Keeping them in total ignorance is simply a guarantee that—”
    He held up a defensive hand. “I know, I know.”
    â€œI shall never understand why the Good Lord chose not to bless me with daughters,” she added.
    â€œToo frightened of the result, I imagine,” teased Alan.
    The duchess gave him a mock haughty look. “What do you want?” she demanded.
    â€œSome servants,” he responded. “Two, I think. An older woman to do some plain cooking and a housemaid of some kind, to answer the door and that sort of