A Perfect Groom (8 page)
With luck, she decided blackly, he’d take himself back to the Continent, or wherever it was he’d been. Of course, that was hardy likely…
Twice in as many nights she had seen him.
Twice
. Would she be so unlucky as to encounter him a third? But what else could she do? She could hardly avoid him the rest of the Season.
But Arabella did not relish the prospect of seeing Justin again. Indeed, it was still on her mind the next day because Lady Melville’s masquerade party was to be held that night at
But that was before Justin had returned.
Now, she could have wailed aloud. Would he be in attendance?
She hoped not. She prayed not.
The prospect of seeing him again, wondering what he would do next, filled her with dread. Dancing with him last night…He hadn’t lied. He was an exquisite dancer, and she had felt like such a clod! He’d held her altogether too closely. She remembered vividly the feel of his hand on her waist, his heat and warmth, a warmth that spread clear inside her. As for the warm slide of his tongue on her skin…God above, his
tongue!
And he was altogether too handsome, his behavior altogether too rakish. Furthermore, he was altogether too unpredictable.
She didn’t trust him. She had the sneaking suspicion he had enjoyed tormenting her. He would delight in making a fool of her, she was convinced.
No, she most definitely did not look forward to seeing him again. Indeed, she almost dreaded it.
Nor could she put him from her mind — and that was most vexing of all!
Glancing into the drawing room later that day, Aunt Grace spied her sitting on the long cupboard near the window, staring into the garden.
“I must say, my dear, you’re looking most disgruntled.”
Arabella looked up. “Aunt! I didn’t know you were back.” Aunt Grace had been shopping with several of her friends. In invitation, Arabella patted the cushions beside her.
Aunt Grace joined her, arranging her skirts lightly over her legs. “My dear, I’ve watched you frowning and fretting and fidgeting from across the room for a full five minutes. What is on your mind?”
Arabella took a breath. “Nothing.”
Aunt Grace studied her for a moment, then pursed her lips. “Any gentlemen callers this afternoon?”
Arabella shook her head.
Her gray eyes softened. “Ah, so that’s why —”
“Oh, that’s not the case at all! I actually had a moment to myself — and indeed I relished every second.” Every second, that is, that was not given to thoughts of Justin Sterling.
Aunt Grace was startled at her vehemence. “I hadn’t realized you were so unhappy, dear.”
“Oh, but I’m not unhappy!” Arabella hastened to reassure her. “I adore being here with you and Uncle Joseph. And I adore
London
, the gaiety and the parties. But this whole business of being considered The Unattainable…well, I didn’t want it. I
don’t
want it. I should be quite content with being on the sidelines.”
Aunt Grace regarded her, her head tipped slightly to the side. “That may be hard to accomplish, my dear. Granted, the
ton
is fickle. But right now, you are the toast of the Season, and will likely remain so, unless you deign to choose a husband.”
Arabella couldn’t help it. “Aunt Grace, if I never have another gentleman caller this year, I do believe it would please me to no end.”
“My dear, I think you’re simply feeling rather overwhelmed.”
Arabella slanted her a wan smile.
“Do you know, in our day, between your mother and I, I do believe we had callers queuing out the door. Why, your grandfather used to complain that his house was not his own!” Her aunt was almost giggling in fond remembrance. “And it was the same with your cousins, you know. Why, I do believe it runs in the family!”
Arabella couldn’t help but smile. There was no question her aunt had been a beauty in her day. Indeed, her cheeks were still plump and pink, her eyes bright and vivacious. And when she smiled, the dimples in her cheeks lent her a youthful radiance that was almost infectious.
“The years have been kind to you, Aunt Grace, for you are still a very fetching woman.”
Her aunt fairly beamed. “Thank you, child. That’s most gracious of you. But come, will you not at least admit it
is
rather flattering to have all those gentlemen throwing themselves at your feet?”
Arabella bit her lip. “Well,” she allowed, “perhaps.”
“Yes, yes, I knew it. But back to the business of finding a husband.”
Arabella sucked in a breath. “Aunt Grace,” she began carefully, “I am not quite sure how to say this, but —”
“I think I know your point, child.” Aunt Grace was once again brisk. “It occurs to me that I have been most persistent in urging you to choose among your suitors. Perhaps
too
persistent.”
Arabella relaxed.
“I admit, I am overanxious. It’s just that I do so enjoy planning a wedding. It has been two years since your cousin Edith wed, you know. But I suspect you will be like your mother and choose your own path. As for the matter of your future husband, I promise, my dear, I shall endeavor to say no more.”
Arabella didn’t speak. There was a restless questing inside her she didn’t fully understand, and she felt as if she were suddenly flailing…
She didn’t have the heart to inform Aunt Grace there was a very good likelihood she wouldn’t be planning a wedding because Arabella might never wed. She wasn’t beautiful or accomplished like her cousins. She was…different. She knew instinctively that she wouldn’t be content with the missionary life, as her parents were. She wasn’t a bluestocking or a crusader. And she didn’t want to be an albatross around her parents’ necks.
She didn’t know what she wanted or even what she was suited for! She only seemed to know what she
didn’t
want…
But she was lucky, she realized with a pang. Lucky to be loved the way she had been loved all her life, by everyone close to her. And she was all at once reminded why she had always cherished the time spent with her aunt. She’d never loved her more than she did right now.
Impulsively she reached out, clasping both of her aunt’s hands in hers.
“Do you know, when I was young and in school, and Mama and Papa had to be away, sometimes I missed them terribly.” An aching lump of emotion swelled in her chest, so vast she could hardly speak. But suddenly it was all spilling out, and she couldn’t stop it.
“But then I’d think of you, and suddenly it didn’t hurt so much. I didn’t feel so alone, because I had you, Aunt Grace. Because you were there to hug me and hold me and mother me when Mama could not. I’ve never told you how much that meant to me.”
Tears sprang to her aunt’s eyes, and suddenly her own were swimming as well. With a tender hand, Grace smoothed a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Arabella! Oh, Arabella, I cannot tell you how it pleases me to hear you say that. I shall always be here for you, whenever you need me. Why, you are as dear to my heart as if you were my own. You know that, don’t you?”
“I do, Aunt Grace. Oh, but I do!” Fraught with emotion, the pair hugged.
Aunt Grace drew back, patting her cheek. “But you must promise me, Arabella. No more fretting. No more worrying. This is a time in your life for you to be happy and gay and…oh, I know this may not be the right time to say it, particularly when I vowed I would speak of husbands no more. But you know me, and I fear I must…You’ll know when the right man comes into your life. You’ll know it
here”
— she laid her hand on her heart and smiled — “as both your mother and I did.”
Arabella blinked. “But you and Uncle Joseph…I always thought that your marriage was arranged.”
“Oh, I should say not! A love match, my dear.” Grace’s eyes were twinkling once again. She let out a giggle. “I confess, I was quite the coquette, and I did lead him a merry chase. He had to vie for my affections, but once he…”
Arabella looked on in astonishment. Aunt Grace was blushing!
Grace cleared her throat. “Suffice it to say that it wasn’t long before I knew he was the one.” She rose and shook out the wrinkles in her gown. The dimple in her cheek deepened. “Oh, but he was quite the dashing rake, your Uncle Joseph.”
Arabella was aghast. For all that Uncle Joseph commanded a purposeful, distinguished demeanor outside the family, when she envisioned his thinning pate, it was difficult to imagine him a rake!
Instead her mind veered straight to Justin Sterling.
From the corner of her eye, she saw that Aunt Grace had started toward the door. Arabella got to her feet as well. Halfway across the room, she stopped.
“You haven’t forgotten the masquerade tonight, have you, dear?”
“Of course not.”
“Excellent. I’ll have Annie make up your bath. We wouldn’t want to be late for such an event.” Three more steps, and then she paused and glanced back over her shoulder.
“By the way, dear, I saw you waltzing with Justin Sterling last night.”
Arabella sucked in a breath. “What?” she said weakly. Mercy, had she spoken Justin’s name out loud? “Oh, yes, Aunt Grace, I know. We should probably have the dancing master back.”
“Actually, I was going to say, dear, that the two of you looked quite striking together. I daresay, I wasn’t the only one who noticed. The Dowager Duchess of Carrington quite agreed. His dark looks lend themselves perfectly to a woman with your vivacious coloring.”
Arabella was speechless. Georgiana had said nearly the very same thing. And now Aunt Grace…
“I chatted with him briefly earlier last night. You’ll recall we’ve known his brother the marquess for a number of years. Indeed, the marquess is hosting a house party next week. But Justin, well…I daresay he’s a very charming young man.”
“Aunt Grace, he’s a reprobate! His reputation is —”
“Yes, yes, I know, it’s quite scandalous. But you must admit, is he not the most divinely handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on?”
“Aunt Grace!” she gasped.
Her aunt arched a brow in wicked amusement. “Come, child. I may be getting on in years, but my eyesight has yet to fail me.” She winked at her. “I daresay, he puts me in mind of your Uncle Joseph some thirty years ago.”
The woman continued to chuckle as she sailed breezily from the room. But Arabella had yet to recover. She was still gaping when the door closed. Stunned, she sank back onto the seat.
She didn’t know whether to laugh insanely or bury her head in her hands and weep.
Georgiana…and Aunt Grace. Even the Dowager Duchess of Carrington, a most imposing woman who made Arabella quake in her slippers…Young and old, it didn’t seem to matter. Did Justin Sterling command some brand of sorcery? Sweet heavens, was there a woman alive who could withstand his ability to charm and captivate?
It appeared that she alone was not susceptible. She alone would never succumb.
Six
On her way up the stairs, Arabella very nearly stopped at Aunt Grace’s door, intending to cry off the masquerade. She could plead the headache. Or simply that she longed for an entire evening to herself.
But sitting in her bath a scant half-hour later, she resolved differently. If she should chance to see Justin, she wouldn’t let him set her to quailing. Nor would she let him best her. She had more starch than to let him win.
And she wasn’t about to let him turn her into a recluse. That would have given him too much satisfaction.
And indeed, once they arrived at Vauxhall, Arabella wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Their arrival to the Grand Walk was perfectly timed. They had no sooner settled in than a crescendo from the orchestra sounded. The night exploded; hidden in the trees were lanterns of radiant color, in the shape of stars and half-moons. Arabella exclaimed in sheer delight, for it was a world like no other.
Despite her earlier resolve, she had been on edge as they awaited entry into the gardens. But from that moment on, the mood for the night was set. And there was no sign of Justin, which sealed her enchantment of the evening.
Most everyone in attendance wore masks and had chosen their costumes with care. It was vastly entertaining trying to guess who everyone was. There was a svelte young beauty draped in the garb of a Greek goddess, a couple who came as Romeo and Juliet. For her own costume, Arabella had chosen to wear a gown of gauzy layered silk in the Spanish style. A fine black lace mantilla shielded her curls.
Finishing a country dance, she laughed as a dashing pirate blew her a kiss from across the dance floor, set up near the central square. She knew it wasn’t Justin — he lacked Justin’s tall, lean physique. Her heart pounding from her exertions, she wandered into a miniature temple a short distance away from the guests.
Inside, a small bench beckoned invitingly. It was, she decided, the perfect place to rest and regain her breath. Tipping her head back, she listened to the sound of a waterfall tinkling nearby.
She was just about to rise when the trill of feminine voices reached her ears.
“You know he won’t be long without a mistress,” said one.
“He never is,” agreed another. “But who will be the next lucky lady, I wonder?”
Arabella froze. They had stopped almost directly behind her.
“He does have a tendency to go through lovers. Why, I vow, it would not be beyond reason to say that he’s bedded down with fully half the women here tonight, now, would it?”
More trilling laughter. Arabella’s lips turned down, but she didn’t dare move. She didn’t want them to think she was spying on them.
“Ah, yes, and left a trail of broken hearts in the wake.”
“And yours among them,” said the first woman. “Ah, yes, well, hearts do mend, don’t they? But perhaps you should cast your hat back into the ring.”
“Oh, I would not be averse to it were he to look my way,” the second woman said lightly. “But Agatha has her eye on him again, you know. They were lovers a few years ago, if you recall, just after she married Dunsbrook. But how many has she seen since? A dozen?”
“Ah, but what of him? Surely thrice that many!”
Arabella’s entire body burned. How blithely they spoke of dalliances and indiscretions, of affairs and infidelity. How frivolously they spoke of love and lovers — dear God, they made but a mockery of the words!
Theirs was a world she would neither embrace nor understand, a world she deplored with all her being. And the gentleman in question — oh, but she used the term most generously! — why, he was the worst of all!
Love was faith and fidelity and all that went with it. Love was what her parents shared. And, particularly after her conversation with Aunt Grace, she was very, very certain that love was what Aunt Grace and Uncle Joseph shared.
“Yes, I remember the way Agatha carried on. Why, to this day I recall the jealous fit she threw when she discovered he was carrying on with Lady Anne — what a tizzy! You’d have sworn he was her first and only love. I won’t deny Justin Sterling is a lover of superb finesse, but it’s not as if he’s the only man with such…skill.”
The man they were discussing was Justin. Oh, but she should have known!
“Well,” the first voice said cattily, “we certainly know who his next mistress
won’t
be, don’t we?”
“Ah, yes, The Unattainable.”
“The very one.”
“God, yes! Did you see her at the
Bennington
affair last night, lumbering about like a…a horse? I’m sure he only danced with her out of pity, though I can’t imagine why.”
The second exclaimed with snobbish delight, “I quite agree. God knows what the gentlemen see in her. Why, I do believe it’s all a vast joke, that they’re all secretly laughing at her!”
Oh, God. In but a heartbeat, Arabella’s pleasure in the evening fled. Her happiness shattered, like a piece of fine china dashed to the floor. She cringed, sick to the dregs of her soul. She couldn’t help but remember what Aunt Grace had said only this afternoon about the
ton
being fickle.
The toast of the Season indeed. Sweet Lord, she might well end up the laughingstock of the year.
She couldn’t bear one more second. Only half-aware, she arose. Blindly she walked, her steps quickening. Then suddenly she was almost running, tearing along the path, twisting and turning.
When at last she stopped, her heart was pounding. The lights of the square were far behind her; her flight had taken her into a deeply wooded area. She glanced about in dismay, and no little amount of fear. She had strayed far from the rest of the party. She’d heard tales of thieves lying in wait for unwary females, and had no doubt they were true. Oh, why had she come so far!
Footsteps crunched on the gravel nearby. Her eyes darted into the shadows. She clutched her skirts and prepared to flee. All at once strong fingers whirled her about. A dark, featureless shadow loomed before her. Frightened almost beyond her wits, she opened her mouth.
“For pity’s sake,” a voice intoned irritably, “don’t scream. It’s only me.”
The man restraining her stripped off his mask. Her breath caught on a gasp. Arabella looked up. Set between sharp green eyes was a long, elegant nose.
“Perhaps the very reason I should!”
His eyes flickered over her. “What are you doing out here? There are thieves and footpads —”
“And rakes and scoundrels?” she queried archly.
He made no response, but his lips thinned.
“You’re following me, aren’t you? How the devil did you recognize me?”
“My dear Arabella,” he drawled, “masquerade or no, there is nothing about you that does not remain” — his gaze flickered over her, lingering on her hair — “distinctive.”
Arabella was stung. She knew what he meant. Her height. Her hair. Justin Sterling, with his perfect, impeccable looks, had no idea what she had endured her entire life! He couldn’t possibly know how it hurt to be jeered at, laughed at, sneered at.
She felt like a freak in a circus sideshow — and never more so than now.
Her mantilla had slipped to her shoulders. She dragged it up over the froth of curls pinned at her crown. Angry, bitter hurt crowded her throat. “Must you insult me?” she cried.
“God’s blood, I meant no insult.”
“Oh, but you did! I — I don’t need to be reminded of my shortcomings. I know my hair is quite unattractive, but there’s nothing I can —”
“Unattractive! Why, quite the contrary.” Indeed, it was a startling admission…or was it? Justin wasn’t quite sure. He knew only that he had come here tonight hoping to encounter her. She had grown into a woman of wit and intelligence — a woman fully capable of a wicked repartee that rivaled his own. Indeed, their first meeting, as well as the second, had inspired a rather reluctant admiration. Was it any wonder he looked forward to the next?
“It’s…well, it’s what makes you...
you
.” Lord, but he sounded lame. He, the master of seduction, the man who had wooed and won his way into the boudoirs of more ladies than he could even remember, found himself at a startling loss for words. Where was his usual glib flattery, the practiced ease which was second nature?
Not that it came as any surprise, but she appeared singularly unimpressed. Eyes flashing, she raised her chin. “Let me pass,” she said calmly.
“Not yet. We have much to discuss.”
“We have nothing to discuss.”
“Don’t we? If you recall, we have some unfinished business, you and I.”
“What business?” she asked sharply.
“Do you forget so soon? We neglected to settle last night on the price of my silence about your
cher amour
Walter.”
“He is not my love and you know it.”
He merely gave her a mundane smile in return.
“You’ve decided to plague me, haven’t you, Justin? It’s revenge for the prank I played on you as a child.”
“My, but you’re in a mood, aren’t you?”
Arabella said nothing. She lowered her head. He had moved close. Less than the span of her palm was all that lay between them.
“Arabella?” he queried.
His nearness was disarming. He was disturbingly, distractingly masculine. She felt helpless against him! All at once she couldn’t think. Her heart was clamoring so that she could scarcely breathe.
“Not having the vapors, are you?”
The amusement in his tone brought her head up in a flash. “I never have the vapors,” she stressed.
“No, I don’t suppose you do.” He eyed her. His tone had turned almost grim. “Why do you look at me as you do?” he asked curtly.
“How do I look at you?”
“As if you would do me harm. When you look at me, I see nothing but contempt.” There was an edge in his tone that did not bode well.
“Our dislike is mutual,” she stated bluntly. “There is no need to pretend otherwise.”
His eyes narrowed. “You haven’t answered my question.”
“Nor will I.”
“Why not? Are you a coward, Arabella?”
“I am not!”
“Then why do you refuse to answer?”
“And why can’t you leave me be? If anyone saw you come after me —”