I Am Not in Your Greenhouse

“You’re just receiving support, aren’t you? Someone might think your mother-in-law is telling her daughter-in-law to sell herself.”
Radilt Brill, who lost her husband at a young age and took on the responsibility of supporting her in-laws, found herself attending the widows’ support group, “Plumen Party,” under the pressure of her mother-in-law, who demanded she earn money for her sister-in-law’s new dress.
Wearing an old dress and worn-out shoes, Radilt stood in a corner of the banquet hall like a withered flower until a man approached her.
Pendleore Duston.
He was a wealthy, titled, and highly sought-after bachelor of marriageable age.
Radilt’s heart fluttered at his striking appearance, but only for a moment, as she found herself swept into his carriage as if abducted.
“I wish to court you, madam.”
“…Court me?”
“Let’s just say I find the conditions of Mrs. Brill agreeable.”
Conditions?
“I am… well, a widow.”
“That’s the most satisfying condition.”
“…Are you looking for someone convenient?”
“Good. At least you’re not entirely oblivious.”
A contract dating proposal from a rude yet elegant man who had no intention of marriage.
“You may leave if you wish. Or, you could take my hand.”
A relentless mother-in-law, burdensome dependents, a sister-in-law’s new dress, the Plumen Party, sponsorship…
Radilt’s hand gently rested on Pendleore’s palm.
“It’s an honor, madam.”
What answer could there be other than to take this hand?