Arabella (7 page)

             
Arabella flushed.  Her eyes snapped with temper as she looked up at him standing there.  He was like a dog quarrelling over a bone, she thought resentfully, jealous because she had shown her preference for another.

             
'I find you insulting, sir.  You would not speak so to Lord Sylvester's face I dare say.'

             
'You think me afraid of him?'  Gervase's upper lip curled back in a snarl.  'I would have killed the swine long ago if he would meet me.  It is he who is the coward, Mistress Arabella.  I give you this warning for your own sake.  There are half a dozen gentlemen present this evening who would fall over themselves to wed you given a chance – open your eyes and look elsewhere or you will live to regret it.'

             
'Please leave me, sir.  I have nothing to say to you.  I detest you!'

             
His dark eyes met hers in a long, cool stare, and it was Arabella who looked away first.

             
'I have given you my warning.  You will have only yourself to blame if he ruins you.'  With that, Gervase bowed his head and walked away, leaving her to stare after him.

             
Oh, he was the most arrogant, despicable man!  She wished that she might take a horsewhip to him.  She would like to tear his heart out and feed it to the stray dogs that haunted the alleys of the city.

             
'Have I kept you waiting, Arabella?  You frown so I fear I have displeased you.'

             
Arabella glanced up as Harry set a plateful of delicious morsels on the table before her.  Her hands had been curled tightly, her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms.  She forced a little laugh and shook her head.

             
'Indeed no, sir.  I had not noticed the time.  It was someone else…'

             
'Someone else displeased you?  Tell me his name and I shall make him apologise to you.'

             
'He called you a coward,' Arabella said.  'He warned me not to trust you.'

             
'Clearly I have a jealous rival,' Harry said easily.  'Who was this fool?'

             
'No fool,' she replied and shivered.  'It was the Marquis of Roxbourne.  I think he… I think he hates you.'

             
Glancing up, she saw that his face had gone white.  There was a look in his eyes that made her think he had reason to fear the other man.

             
'What is it, my lord?  Why do you look so?'

             
'Roxbourne is my enemy.  He has tried to force a duel on me, but I refuse to rise to his lure.  He is an expert with both the sword and the pistols.  If I accepted his challenge he would kill me.'

             
'Why?'  Arabella sensed more than he had told her.  'What have you done that he should hate you so?'

             
'I have done nothing,' Harry replied.  'The man is moody – a cold, ruthless devil.  I suppose that I must have upset him in some way.  Perhaps I won a lady he desires for himself…who knows?  I swear that I do not.'

             
'I sensed that he was ruthless,' Arabella agreed.  'I confess I do not like him – and I would trust nothing that he said to me.'

             
'I am glad his spite has not turned you against me, Arabella.'

             
'Oh no,' she replied, smiling at him.  'Nothing that man could say or do would make me dislike you, my lord.'

             
'Then he may go to the Devil for all I care!'  Harry lifted his wineglass to her.  'I salute you, Arabella.  Your beauty will attract many suitors – but I pray you, do not let Roxbourne be one of them.'

             
'I would rather become a Nun!' Arabella cried and wondered why his eyes gleamed with amusement.  She was not yet familiar enough with London ways to know that the term was often applied to young, fresh whores.  'Why are you laughing?'

             
Harry recollected himself.  'I do not see you spending your life in prayer, mistress.  It would be such a waste.  You were meant for earthly pleasures.'

             
Arabella dimpled at his words.  She suspected him of some wickedness but let it pass.  She was enjoying herself in his company far too much to quarrel with him.

             
'Well, I told Lord Roxbourne that I did not wish to speak to him, and I hope that he has finally accepted it,' she said.  'Now, tell me, sir – when shall I see you again?  Do you dine with us next week?'

             
'Alas, I have not been invited,' Harry replied.  'But I shall certainly call on you very soon.'

             
'Then I shall look forward to your visit.'

             
Arabella glanced around the supper room as she nibbled the dainty trifles on her plate.  She could not see Lord Roxbourne anywhere, so she concluded that he had taken himself off.  She hoped that he would keep his distance in future.  Surely she had made her dislike of him plain enough now!

*

'Roxbourne!'  Arabella stared at her cousin in dismay.  'Why have you invited him to dine, ma'am?  He is the most arrogant, conceited devil – and I dislike him above any other I have met since coming to town.'

             
'He does not dislike you,' Lady Mary said, frowning at her.  'I saw him watching you dancing last evening.  And I must take this opportunity to remind you that Harry Sylvester must marry money.  You would be foolish to hope for anything from him, Arabella.  Besides, he cannot pay his own debts, let alone your father's.'

             
'I-I like him, cousin, that is all.  He is amusing.'

             
'I am well aware of that.  I too enjoy Harry's company – but I can afford to amuse myself, you cannot.  You are here to find yourself a wealthy husband – must I remind you of your duty?'

             
'No, ma'am.' Arabella blushed, realising that she had annoyed her cousin.  'But may I not have a little pleasure?'

             
'I know Sylvester is charming – but he cannot marry you, Arabella.  Nor would your family permit it.  You waste your time with him.  Roxbourne would be a far better catch.  Indeed, if you could pull it off it would be the match of the season.'

             
'I have no desire to marry Roxbourne!'

             
'You are too particular, Arabella.  Had you a fortune of your own you might choose whoever you liked, but that is not the case.  You must marry and Roxbourne is extremely wealthy.  One of the richest men in England I dare swear.'

             
'Is money everything then?'

             
'Do not be wilful, Arabella.  I was given no choice in the matter of my first husband.  I was but fifteen – and he was nearly fifty.  You have no idea how terrifying that is for an innocent child.  You I think are not so innocent – Oh, I do not say you have lain with a man.  I believe you to have too much sense for that, but your wedding night will not come as such a shock to you as it does many young gels.'

             
Arabella blushed at her cousin's plain speaking.  'It is true that I know … I have seen lovers in the hayloft at the farm on my father's estate.  A young labourer and his lover.' A smile hovered on her lips.  'She was smiling when she left him, and I asked her if – if doing that had made her happy.'

             
'And what did she tell you?'  Lady Mary was amused despite Arabella's wilfulness.

             
'She told me that it was the best thing that had ever happened to her and that she was in love.' Arabella looked wistful.  'Is it so much to ask that I should be allowed to love my husband?'

             
'I am afraid that is a secondary consideration for a young woman in your situation.  Love is something you may look for when your husband has his heir.'

             
'But supposing I refuse to marry a man I cannot like?'

             
'Then I should wash my hands of you,' her cousin replied.  'Believe me, Arabella, there would be no sympathy for you here if you disregarded all that I have tried to do for you.  I do not say that you must take Roxbourne if you dislike him so much – but you must take someone like him.  Why not think of Sir John?  I promise you that he would leave you alone once you were with child.  He is very malleable and I would do my best to keep him with me – though you would have to give him at least two sons before he could be certain the succession was safe.'

             
A shudder ran through Arabella, though she did her best to suppress it.  'I think I would rather take Roxbourne, ma'am.'

             
'Well, that is your choice,' her cousin said calmly, though there was a glint of displeasure in her eyes.  'If you have the wit to catch him – it will not be easy.  Why not think of it as a challenge, Arabella?  And one that will pay handsome dividends I'll swear.  I think you would find Roxbourne the equal and more of your young labourer in the art of love.'

             
'I dare say he will not ask me,' Arabella said.  'There are other gentlemen who seem to like me, cousin.'

             
'To whom are you referring?'  Lady Mary's eyes held a look of steel.  'Wellingborough is on the catch for an heiress – though he is not in such a sad case as Sylvester.  Borrowdale is eligible but as old as Sir John – and Fairhaven is ruled by his mother.  If she takes to you, you might stand a chance, but I know for a fact that she has her eye on a duke's daughter for her son.'

             
Arabella bit her lip.  Put like that, she saw that her choice was not as wide as she had imagined.  At least three of the gentlemen who had paid particular attention to her were older than Sir John, and just as distasteful to her.  She had quite liked Lord Fairhaven, but if his mama wanted a titled lady for him…

             
'Perhaps someone else will take a liking to me.'

             
'I dare say a good many will find you attractive,' Lady Mary replied.  'But the young ones are either not looking for a wife or tied by the apron strings until they come into their fortunes – Roxbourne has been hunted unsuccessfully for years, but I think you might manage it if you are willing to be guided by me.'

             
Arabella hesitated.  She had no intention of being coerced into a marriage she disliked, but it would not do to fall out with her cousin – or she might be sent home before she'd had a chance to make Harry Sylvester mad with love for her.

             
'I – I do not know, ma'am,' she said in a subdued tone.  'I am of course willing to be guided – but may I not have a little time?  We do not know if Roxbourne will offer yet… and there may be someone else I could like of whom you also approve.'

             
'Well, it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that Fairhaven will shake off his mother's rule once he inherits the money, which is quite soon I believe.  There is no hurry after all.  I ask only that you should be polite to Roxbourne.  Do not seem to encourage him for he may take fright and bolt.  Be polite but distant and it should intrigue him.'

             
'Yes, cousin.  I shall do exactly as you wish.'

             
Arabella hid her smile, for it was exactly what she had intended all along.  Only Roxbourne and she would know the true situation…

CHAPTER FOUR

'You look flushed, Miss Arabella.  Would you care to take a turn on the balcony?  I am sure the air would refresh you…' Harry Sylvester laid his hand on her bare arm.

              She had been longing to leave the overcrowded rooms, and the chance to be alone with him even for a few minutes was not to be resisted.

             
'Why not, my lord?' she asked.  'I vow this heat has given me a headache.'

             
It was not her head that was suffering so much as the rest of her, Arabella thought wryly as she laid her hand on his arm.  They made a leisurely progress through the throng of laughing chattering guests, going out on to the balcony, where they remained in full view of anyone who chanced to glance their way.

             
Harry ran a finger down her arm, making a little shiver of pleasure dance along her spine.  'Could we not walk to the far end?  I believe the view is superior from there…'

             
Arabella glanced back towards the lights of the ballroom.  Her cousin would be annoyed if she saw them, but she was nowhere in sight.  It was a risk, for being out here alone could cause gossip – but she had almost reached the stage where she no longer cared.  She wanted so much to held by this man, to be kissed and caressed…to melt into his arms and feel the heat of his body burn into her.

             
'We must not stay long.  My cousin…'

             
'I would do nothing to harm you.  You must know that, Bella?'  His voice was low and urgent, filled with suppressed longing, and she was not proof against him.

             
When they were out of sight of the French windows, he drew her against him, kissing her hungrily.  She had known he would and, as she felt the deliciously heady sensation begin to sweep over her, she clung to him, her body melding with his, wanting him to go on and on.

             
'Oh, Bella, Bella,' he moaned, his mouth searching greedily for the soft mounds of her delectable breasts.  'What am I to do about you?  I swear you are driving me mad with desire for you.  I cannot sleep for thinking of you.'

             
His words were as sweet music to her ears.  She could hardly check her eager response for his mouth and tongue were making it impossible for her to think beyond the delight they gave her.  All she wanted was to lie with him, to know the glories of making love.  Every part of her body burned to know his touch and she could scarce breathe for the frantic beating of her heart.  Oh, what did it matter that they could never marry?  To know the sweet pleasure of…

             
'Miss Arabella…are you out here?  Lady Mary was looking for you.'

             
At the sound of Sir John's voice, the lovers sprang apart.  Arabella turned away to hastily rearrange her gown, while Harry strolled to meet him.

             
'We were admiring the view,' Harry said in a cool, bored tone.  'Miss Arabella felt a little faint from the heat, but I believe she is better now.  Excuse me, I have a partner for the next dance.'

             
He sauntered back into the lighted ballroom, leaving Arabella to follow.  She took a moment to compose herself before walking to join Sir John.  His eyes went over her, noting the flush in her cheeks.

             
'Has that fellow been upsetting you, m'dear?'

             
'No, not at all,' Arabella said.  She smiled at him.  Her senses were clearing now and she realised that she ought to feel grateful to this man.  Had he not come… she had been close to surrendering her all for the pleasure of the moment.  'It was kind of you to come in search of me, sir.  Lord Sylvester brought me out here because I was not feeling well.'

             
'It is a very humid evening,' he said, not quite believing her.  He had seen the shape of their bodies standing very close together in the shadows at the far end of the balcony and could guess what Sylvester had been about.  He could not blame the fellow for attempting to seduce Arabella – she was enough to drive any man out of his senses!  Had he thought he stood a chance, he might have attempted it himself.  However, he disliked making a fool of himself, and he knew that his only chance with her was to offer her a good marriage.  'Do you feel like returning to the ballroom now?'

             
'Yes, of course,' Arabella said.  'I simply needed a little air.'

             
He offered her his arm, and she laid her hand lightly upon it, allowing him to lead her back into the ballroom.  As her eyes moved round the assembled company, she saw that Harry was talking to a rather plain plump girl.  The girl was simpering up at him foolishly, Arabella thought, then realised she must appear almost as foolish herself.  Indeed, had Sir John not arrived at that moment … she could not have prevented Harry had he taken her there against the wall in the shadows.  She knew that she had wanted him to.  Her thoughts shied away from such wickedness.  She must never be that foolish again!

             
'That was a deep sigh, Miss Arabella,' Sir John said.  'Does your head still ache?'

             
'A little,' she lied.  'But do not concern yourself, sir.  I shall be better presently.'

             
'You do look unwell,' he said, clearly concerned now.  'Would you like to be taken home?  I would be happy to escort you.'

             
'Oh, how kind of you,' Arabella replied.  'But I could not take my sister away from the ball…'

             
'She may remain here with Lady Mary.  You will be quite safe with me, m'dear.  I would never presume on a lady's vulnerability – especially when she is unwell.'

             
Arabella was reluctant to be taken home, and yet the encounter on the balcony had left her shaken.  Her plan had been to drive Harry Sylvester mad with love for her so that he was forced to marry her.  Instead, she had been on the verge of allowing him to seduce her – and it was no more than two weeks since their first visit to Vauxhall!  No doubt he imagined that he had only to keep pressing her and she would fall into his honeyed trap.  And the terrible truth was that he was right.

             
She must do something to shock him out of his complacency, she realised.  She must make Harry jealous.  If he saw her leaving with Sir John it might make him fear losing her to another man.

             
She smiled up at her companion.  'Are you sure you do not mind leaving early, sir?  I am afraid my head
is
painful.'

             
'Then we shall go as soon as I have spoken to your cousin.  Sit here quietly by the window and I shall return immediately.'

             
'So kind…' She sighed and sat down, her eyes straying back to Harry Sylvester, who was now dancing with the young woman he had been talking to earlier.

             
'Her name is Miss Jane Archer,' a voice said at her side and she looked round to see Lord Roxbourne standing close by.  'Her father is a wealthy merchant I believe.  She is here with an aunt who is married to a bishop, and a friend of our host's.  I dare say she is a good catch for someone of Sylvester's ilk.'

             
Arabella's eyes flashed fire at him, but she answered mildly enough.  'Do you say so, sir?  I am sure I do not know.'

             
'Why are you sitting here alone?  Have you no partner for this dance?'

             
'I – I am feeling a little unwell,' she lied.  'Sir John has kindly offered to take me home.'

             
'You will be safe enough with Fortescue.  He is a decent enough fellow,' Gervase said, his gaze narrowed.  'I could not say the same for Sylvester.  You should not trust him too far, mistress.'

             
'What has he done to you that you hate him so?'

             
'Perhaps I shall tell you one day.'  He inclined his head to her as Sir John approached.  'I hope you are soon recovered from whatever ails you, mistress.'  He waited until Sir John came up to them.  'Good evening, sir.  I understand Mistress Arabella is feeling unwell.  I pray you, take good care of her.'

             
'Yes, of course…' Sir John stared after him as he walked away.  Damn Roxbourne for his interference!  His words had made it a matter of honour that Arabella should reach home unmolested.  It had not been in Sir John's mind to press his advantage, but he resented the marquis' manner.  'Come, m'dear.  Lady Mary was most anxious that you should leave if you wished to.'

             
'You are thoughtful, sir.'

             
Arabella's mind was wrestling with the doubts Lord Roxbourne had brought into being.  Why would he not leave her alone?  He could not be ignorant of her dislike, but he would insist on warning her against Harry Sylvester.  She needed no warnings!  She was well aware that Harry would steal what he wanted from her if he could.

             
It was a game they played – a dangerous one for her!  She had escaped with her virtue intact this time, but for how long?

             
Allowing Sir John to escort her out to the carriage, Arabella was very subdued.  For once she had no answers and closed her eyes as soon as she was settled, giving the impression that she really was unwell.  She sighed deeply.  She did not know what to do – but instinct told her that she must not be alone with Harry again until she had extracted a promise of marriage from him.

             
'Does your head hurt very badly?'  Sir John's hand found hers in the shadows of the carriage.  He patted her kindly.  'You must not let that rogue Sylvester upset you, m'dear.'

             
'No, no, he did not…'

             
'If you are ever in trouble you can always turn to me… but I shall say no more this evening.  Rest and we shall soon be home.'

             
Arabella felt the sting of tears.  For a moment his tone had made her think of her father.  She missed him, and she wished that he had remained in London.  She could have confided in him, but there was no one else.  Her cousin was a little annoyed with her, and Nan had withdrawn, seeming as if she did not wish to confide in Arabella.

             
'I-I shall remember, sir.'

             
Arabella was confused and annoyed with herself.  He would propose to her, she was sure of it, if not this evening then soon.  And by allowing him to take her home she had encouraged it.  She gave a faltering sigh and pressed a hand to her head.

             
Please, let him not ask her this evening!

Sir John was kindness itself as he delivered Arabella to her door, kissing her hand solicitously and telling Mrs Boswell to take good care of her before departing.

             
'I shall call tomorrow to see how you go on, Miss Arabella.'

             
She thanked him and walked up the stairs, retiring immediately to her own room.  The housekeeper followed in concern, fussing over her and promising to bring a restorative tisane.

             
Arabella did not refuse it.  Her mind was occupied elsewhere as she allowed the maid to undress her and loosen her hair from the elaborate style she had worn that evening.  She dismissed the girl and brushed her own hair, feeling too restless to go to bed and half regretting her early departure from the ball.  When Mrs Boswell brought her the refreshing hot drink, she took a few sips then left it to go cold as she began to pace the floor of the bedchamber.

             
What was she to do?  If Sir John offered for her she would refuse him, but that would make her cousin angry with her.  Arabella sensed that Lady Mary was already annoyed because Harry Sylvester had transferred his attentions to her.  If she sent Arabella back to the country she might never see him again.

             
It would break her heart if she never saw Harry again!  Arabella knew that she was in love with him, had fallen for him that very first moment their eyes had met.  Yet she also knew he was a rogue.  Charming and handsome, but a rogue.  She almost despaired of ever achieving her heart's desire.

             
Arabella turned from the window she had been staring out of as the door of the bedchamber was flung openly.  Her thoughts had been so caught up with Harry Sylvester that his name was on her lips, but she gasped as she saw her sister standing in the doorway.  Nan was looking at her with anger and dislike.

             
'It is as I thought!'  Nan cried, clearly in a temper.  'You are not ill at all.  I told Cousin Mary it was merely a ruse to make Sir John bring you home alone.'

             
'Why should I want to do that?'  Arabella was surprised by the vehemence of her sister's attack.