Lady Arabella's Scandalous Marriage (15 page)

‘In that case perhaps we could invite your brother Francis to come and stay? Having missed the wedding itself, perhaps he would appreciate an invitation to stay at Winton Hall?’ She looked a query at him.

Darius looked down his long, arrogant nose at her. ‘My brother Francis is not welcome at Winton Hall. Or indeed at any of the Wynter family residences.’ His mouth had hardened into a grim line.

Her eyes widened. ‘Why not?’

‘It is a private family matter, and as such does not concern you.’

Her cheeks flushed with temper. ‘I am now part of this family!’

‘That does not entitle you to know every family scandal.’

‘Why bother to keep that particular one a secret when your own indiscretions are such public knowledge?’

Darious drew in a deep and controlling breath, knowing he had gone as far with this present conversation as he was prepared to go. Further than he had meant to, in fact.

Arabella showed her intelligence in every conversation the two of them had together, and intuition on more than one occasion. If she should once get it into her head to solve the puzzle of Francis’s banishment to the Continent almost seven months ago he would be undone…To continue their present conversation would surely only pique that interest even further.

‘I could always ask my sister-in-law Grace about him, I suppose.’ Once again Arabella displayed her intelligence. ‘After all, he is also related to her by marriage, is he not? As are you…’

Darius had momentarily overlooked the fact that the niece of his sister-in-law Margaret had married Arabella’s brother Lucian some months ago.

His eyes shot sparks at his recalcitrant wife. ‘You will refrain from discussing all private family matters outside of this house!’

‘Which means I should invite Lucian and Grace to visit us here sooner rather than later.’

His mouth tightened grimly at Arabella’s continued stubbornness. ‘Will you just leave the subject be, Arabella?’

‘And if I do not?’

Darius drew in a harsh breath. ‘I will not allow your interference in matters that do not concern you.’

Discerning the cold determination in Darius’s expression, Arabella could not doubt the serious intent of his warning. Even so…‘I do not recall asking your permission,’ she pressed.

A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘Someone should have taken you in hand long ago and put an end to your rebellious ways.’

Arabella gave a humourless smile. ‘Perhaps someone did—and failed utterly.’

‘
I
would not fail!’

Arabella inwardly quivered at the determination in Darius’s expression. A trembling she had no intention of allowing him to see. ‘You are right, Darius. It really is time we went downstairs and joined our guest for dinner.’

Darius could hardly conceal his frustration as he glared at her. ‘Arabella, why will you not accept that you are meddling in things best left alone?’

‘How can I know that when you refuse to discuss them with me?’ Her eyes were innocently wide.

An innocence that did not fool Darius for one second as he narrowed his own glacial blue gaze on her. ‘Do not attempt to defy me on this matter, Arabella.’

‘Oh, I never
attempt
to defy, Darius,’ she assured him dryly. ‘On the contrary, I have always found it is best to just do it rather than waste precious time arguing about it.’

Given the circumstances, it was not surprising that dinner was a tense and awkward affair, with Westlake stumbling about serving the food with his usual ineptitude—Arabella really would have to talk to Darius at the first opportunity concerning the lack of ability for given tasks in all the servants he employed—and poor Gideon Grayson left to supply the lion’s share
of the conversation as his host and hostess glowered at each other from either end of the table.

Not that Arabella did not enjoy herself. There was a feeling of intense satisfaction to be found in being able to shake Darius’s usual air of mocking amusement at those about him.

An intense and delicious satisfaction that made Arabella slightly regretful when it came time for her to excuse herself from the dinner table so that the two men might enjoy their brandy and cigars.

‘As there seems little point in retiring to the drawing room alone to drink my tea, I believe I might go straight upstairs,’ she announced as Westlake, belatedly remembering his manners, hurried forward to pull back the chair so that she might rise. ‘I will wish you a goodnight, gentlemen.’ Arabella deliberately made no attempt to look at her coldly glowering husband and instead bestowed a graciously warm smile on the now standing Gideon Grayson.

Darius rose more slowly to his feet. ‘I will join you very shortly.’

‘Really?’ Her brows arched coolly, despite the underlying threat she heard in Darius’s tone. ‘I had assumed that you and Lord Grayson would once again discuss…private matters once I had left the room.’

‘Let’s not embarrass our guest by arguing in front of him for a second time in one day,’ Darius drawled dryly, not fooled for a moment by Arabella’s supposedly pleasant demeanour, having been left in no doubt throughout dinner that his young wife was still spoiling for a fight.

He should not have reacted so strongly earlier,
Darius now realised, and he would not have done so if Arabella had not touched a little too closely to the truth for comfort when she had threatened to invite Grace and Lucian here, in order to quiz them further concerning the matter of Francis’s banishment.

Very few people knew the truth behind Francis’s abrupt dismissal from England this past summer. Unfortunately, Lucian was one of them. And possibly his wife too, now. Lucian had assured Darius only days ago as to his silence on the true events behind Francis’s banishment earlier this year, but even so it could have been a promise the other man did not feel extended as far as his wife.

Darius had come to the same conclusion concerning his own wife during the excruciatingly long dinner that had just passed. He had all but decided that perhaps he owed it to Arabella to share Francis’s behaviour with her, at least. After all, what Francis had done had nothing to do with the life Darius had necessarily led these past eight years. He would be breaking no confidences by sharing it with Arabella.

It might also serve to divert her from pursuing the dangerous subject of Helena Jourdan any further…

‘I will join you upstairs shortly,’ he repeated mildly.

Arabella eyed him frowningly. ‘I assure you that I perfectly understand if you would prefer to do as you did last night and stay downstairs and talk to Lord Grayson.’

‘Ah, what it is to have an understanding wife,’ Darius drawled. ‘Be sure to ascertain that it is a quality your own wife possesses, Gray, when and if you should decide to marry!’

‘What a flatterer you are, Darius,’ his wife came back sharply.

‘I only state the truth, Arabella.’ His gaze easily met the challenge he could see in the dark glitter of her eyes. ‘A patient and understanding wife is surely to be valued above—’

‘Diamonds?’ Arabella put in tauntingly.

Darius’s mouth tightened as he recalled the way in which Arabella had refused his gift earlier this evening. Forced to sit through this long and boring dinner, Darius had amused himself by imagining Arabella wearing
only
that diamond necklace later tonight when he made love to her…

‘Most assuredly.’ He gave her a mocking bow.

Arabella’s mouth thinned. ‘I have always preferred emeralds to diamonds.’

Darius raised one arrogant brow. ‘And yet this evening you chose to wear sapphires…’

She shot him an irritated glare. ‘I have no idea why.”

‘Perhaps they reminded you of my eyes…?’

Her scathing snort was less than elegant. ‘I fail to see the connection.’

‘Little liar!’

Arabella glanced pointedly in Gideon Grayson’s direction. ‘We are once again embarrassing our guest, Darius.’

Darius gave an unconcerned shrug. ‘Leave a candle alight for me, love.’

Her chin rose. ‘I believe I am still so tired from our travels that I may fall straight to sleep as soon as my head touches the pillow!’

Darius gave a soft laugh. ‘In that case I shall very much enjoy waking you up again.’

Arabella could find no suitable reply to this com
ment, instead addressing Westlake as he hurriedly crossed the room with a candle to light her way. ‘Please inform Mary that I will not be needing her this evening,’ she instructed the butler, and he held the door open for her to leave; if she had to turn Darius away from her bedchamber then Arabella certainly did not need her maid as witness to it!

How dared Darius call her ‘love’ in that casual way? As an announcement that it was his intention to make love to her, it was far from subtle.

Perhaps if she really
were
Darius’s love she would not mind the endearment so much?

No, she would not mind at all. In fact, she might like it more than she ought! But, as that was never likely to happen, it simply irritated her to hear Darius address her with such insincere familiarity.

Her husband was an unrepentant rake who steadfastly refused to explain another woman’s role in his life, and if he thought for one moment that it was Arabella’s intention to go up the stairs and meekly await him to join her in her bedchamber, then he was going to be disappointed.

Arabella held the lighted candle aloft as she entered her bedchamber, turning to close the door behind her before she felt a silencing hand placed across her mouth at the same time as an arm curved in restraint about her throat…

‘A
rabella?’

Darius was not the least surprised to enter his wife’s bedchamber some twenty minutes later to find that she had not left the requested candle alight for him. But the moonlight shone so brightly through the window, the curtains having not been drawn, that it was possible for him to see that the bed was empty and the bedclothes unruffled—evidence that she did not await him there, either.

‘Let us not be childish about this, Arabella.’ Darius gave a weary sigh as he moved to open the door into her dressing room; it had been a long and tiring day, and the last thing he wanted was yet another fight with his wife.

Where was the peace and ease one was supposed to find in marriage, he wondered ruefully? The calm? The wifely concern? The warmth and affection?

If Darius had truly required those things from his wife then he should not have married a woman as fiery and rebellious as Arabella St Claire!

Darius came to a halt as he entered the dressing room and found that also empty of her presence. Had he so infuriated her earlier that she had decided to leave him after all? Despite his warnings that he would come after her? Or possibly
because
of his warnings that he would come after her?

He moved back wearily into the bedchamber to sit down upon the bedside. Where would she have gone? How would she have left? The answer to those two questions was all too obvious; Mulberry Hall, Hawk’s home, was but a short horse-ride into the neighbouring county of Gloucestershire.

Damn it!

Darius’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He was going to throttle Arabella—strangle her with his own bare hands when he caught up with her! How dared she just take off into the night in this way, leaving no word as to her destination?

Arabella would dare do anything she chose!

The question was, did Darius follow her tonight or should he wait until morning? His instinct was to go after her now—and when he caught up with her he would do much worse than throw her across his knee and paddle her backside! That was his initial instinct. Inner caution advised against it. Warned against the wisdom of following her until his own temper had cooled. If it ever did!

Darius dropped back onto the pillows to stare up at the pale canopy above the bed, groaning as he realised that her leaving him was all his own fault. If he had but explained Francis’s banishment to her, given her at least some of his confidence, then she might not have felt
compelled to take the drastic action of leaving him only days after their wedding.

He stilled as he smelt her perfume on the pillow beneath him, turning his cheek to breathe it in; erotic femininity overlaid by a light floral scent. Darius knew he would always and for ever associate it with Arabella.

His anger returned with a vengeance and he sat up abruptly, his expression grim as he looked about the empty bedchamber. Damn it, how
dared
she do this to him?

Then Darius frowned darkly as his gaze was caught by the moonlight reflecting off something that glittered and sparkled near the leg of the dressing table. What was that?

He stood up to cross the bedchamber on soft and silent booted feet before bending to pick up the object, recognising it instantly as the sparkling sapphire-and-diamond necklace that Arabella had worn earlier instead of the one he had given her. A necklace that Arabella had informed him had belonged to her mother….

Even with only the moonlight to see by Darius could tell that the clasp of the necklace had been broken rather than carefully, lovingly unfastened.

Darius accepted that Arabella had been angry enough to have accidentally broken the fastening of the necklace as she removed it, but to leave it discarded upon the floor was surely not something she would ever have done to a piece of jewellery she valued so affectionately.

Darius’s fingers tightened about the necklace and he looked up sharply, his narrowed gaze grimly searching the shadows of the bedchamber. All was tidy—not a comb or a glove out of place…

Not so. There was something else on the floor, near the door. Something Darius had missed stumbling over when he entered the bedchamber because it had been pushed aside by the opening of the door.

Darius placed the necklace down distractedly on the dressing table and then quickly lit the candles in the candelabra on the bedside table, his frown darkening thunderously as he crossed the room and saw that the object on the floor was the single candle Arabella had carried upstairs earlier, in order to light her way.

Another quick glance about the room showed that the gown Arabella had worn this evening was not in evidence, either. Which it surely would have been if she had prepared for bed without the help of her maid. Darius seriously doubted that the blue silk evening gown was what she would have chosen to wear on a cold midnight ride on horseback.

Darius picked up the glowing candelabra to carry it through to the adjoining dressing room, flinging open the doors to the wardrobe to hold the candle aloft as he searched quickly through the many gowns hanging there for the blue one that Arabella had been wearing this evening. Searching a second time, just to make sure.

It was not there!

Darius stepped back abruptly, his hands shaking slightly as he accepted the possibility—the absolute horror—that Arabella had not departed Winton Hall voluntarily!

Arabella’s initial fear at having something dark thrown over her head so that she was unable to see,
before being dragged from her bedchamber along the hallway to what she believed was the servants’ stairs at the back of the house, and then outside into the icy cold wind—all totally against her will as she repeatedly tried to kick her assailant—had turned to indignant disbelief in the last hour or so.

Once outside, Arabella had been tied up and thrown down into what she was sure was the straw of an empty stall in the stables. Several of the horses who shared her captivity had given her enquiringly friendly snorts as they sensed her presence.

She was trussed up like a chicken ready for roasting, with her hands tied behind her back and her ankles bound together, and the cowl had been raised slightly and a piece of rag tied tightly about her mouth before she was once again plunged into darkness. Arabella had been left to lie on the mound of what she could only hope was
clean
straw. Several pieces of it stuck into her uncomfortably in various places through the thin silk of her gown.

Why she should have been dragged from her bedchamber and then abandoned here in the stables was totally beyond her comprehension. But the why was not really important at the moment; it was when Darius would decide to come looking for her that concerned her the most!

Surely he must have gone to her bedchamber by now and realised that she was not there? Unless, of course, Darius had taken her at her word after all and decided to let her sleep undisturbed tonight? It would be just her luck if he should choose tonight of all nights to show her some husbandly consideration!

Arabella stilled, her thoughts frozen, as she heard the
sound of voices outside the stables. Was it her abductor and a cohort returning? Or could it be that Darius had come looking for her at last? Until she had confirmation one way or the other Arabella had no intention of drawing attention to herself.

‘I tell you, Gray, we have searched the house from top to bottom and back again, which means Jourdan has to have taken Arabella away somewhere!’ Darius rasped harshly as moved across the cobbled yard towards the stables with the younger man trailing behind him.

‘We do not know that for certain,’

‘I am well aware of that!’ Darius turned on the other man fiercely, his eyes glittering dangerously in the moonlight. ‘I warn you, if she has harmed one hair on Arabella’s head—’

‘There is no way Helena Jourdan could have kidnapped Arabella on her own,’ Gray reasoned, for what had to be the dozenth time in the past hour. ‘Your wife is young and healthy.’ He grimaced awkwardly at the unflattering description. ‘She is also not a woman to be taken against her will without protest.’

Darius smiled grimly at how true a statement was that. That smile faded as he recalled the broken necklace and dropped candle in Arabella’s bedchamber. As he thought of the last frantic hour of searching the house for her. Unsuccessfully.

‘I have already told you that someone in the house has to be helping Jourdan.’ He glowered at the thought of any of the people he had hired to protect them actually being involved in such treachery. Cut-throats and thieves they might be, but after employing them for
many months Darius had believed them to be loyal cut-throats and thieves.

‘Riding off into the night without any idea of your destination has to be the height of folly.’ Gray followed him into the stables. ‘Much better to wait until morning and see if we cannot find a trail to follow. You—’

‘Quiet, Gray!’ Darius ordered as he stilled, listening intently. ‘Did you hear that?’

‘Hear what? I—’ Gray broke off again as there came the sound of a second muted thud. ‘I heard it that time.’ He nodded. ‘One of the horses moving, perhaps?’

‘Perhaps. Perhaps not!’ Darius bit out as another, louder thud was heard.

‘Careful, Darius,’ Gray warned softly, and he raised the pistol he carried.

Darius’s expression was watchful as he raised a similar pistol. One he had carried about the house with him for the last hour as he searched from attic to cellar in case Arabella was being held prisoner somewhere. All to no avail. The house was empty of all sign of her. Only the broken necklace Darius had placed in the pocket of his waistcoat confirmed his belief that she could not have left Winton Hall willingly.

‘It came from over there.’ He pointed the pistol in the direction of the furthest stall. ‘Light one of the lamps and bring it with you,’ Darius instructed the other man tersely, waiting until Gray had done so before moving silently down the length of the stables.

The lit candle inside the lamp wavered behind Darius in the darkness, sending eerie shadows down the stables and onto the back wall, giving him the appearance of a monster ten feet tall.

His movements were soft and stealthy, his heart pounding loudly in his chest, and he raised his pistol in readiness as he rounded the end stall—and saw the tiny figure in a blue silk dress lying in the straw, hands and feet tied, face covered by a dark sack.

‘Arabella!’ Darius hurried forward to pull the sack from Arabella’s head—only to find himself the focus of a pair of angry brown eyes that glared up at him indignantly from beneath the untidy tumble of her golden curls.

Darius ignored that glare as he threw his pistol down in the straw before pulling his wife up into his arms. ‘My God, Arabella!’ He crushed her thankfully against his chest.

Arabella allowed herself to fall into that comforting embrace for several seconds, so relieved to see Darius again that she happily ignored the discomfort of her tied hands and feet and the horrible gag across her mouth.

Except Darius continued to hold her in his crushing embrace long after she had ceased her trembling. ‘Mmumph!’ she finally muttered frowningly against the suffocating material of his jacket. ‘Mariush, unnie ne!’

‘What, love?’ He moved back slightly to look at her.

‘Unnie ne!’ she repeated around the confining gag.

Darius frowned darkly. ‘I’m sorry, love, I cannot under—’

‘I believe your wife wishes for you to untie her, Darius,’ another voice suggested dryly.

Arabella looked up to see Lord Gideon Grayson leaning against the wall of the stall. ‘Neth!’ she encouraged impatiently before turning back to her husband. ‘Unnie ne, Mariush!’

‘Oh, God…’ Darius groaned as he realised what an idiot he was being; of
course
she wished to be untied. He had been so relieved to find her, apparently unharmed, that he simply hadn’t given a thought to untying her. He hurried to do so now, removing the gag from about her mouth first.

‘Well, at least
one
of you has some intelligence!’ Arabella rebuked the instant her mouth was free. ‘Honestly, Darius.’ She gave a disgusted shake of her head as she glared up at him. ‘How could you not have realised that I needed to be untied?’

Her curls were in complete disarray, there was a smudge of dirt on one of her cheeks, her lips were slightly swollen and red from the piece of material tied about her mouth, and there were pieces of straw struck to her gown. To Darius, however, she had never looked more beautiful.

Although her ordeal did not seem to have affected the sharpness of her tongue!

Darius gripped her shoulders. ‘What happened, Arabella? How did you get out here? Did you see who did this to you?’

‘Could you finish untying me so that we might go back into the house before I answer any of your questions, Darius?’ She looked up at him imploringly. ‘I have been out here for some time dressed only in my gown, and I am so very cold.’ As if to prove her statement she began to shake uncontrollably.

As reaction to her ordeal began to set in, Arabella was not sure whether that trembling was from the cold or the relief of being rescued at last. The latter, she thought.

She was barely aware of Darius untying her hands and feet before he rose to lift her up into his arms. ‘I am perfectly capable of walking,’ she protested awkwardly.

‘I am fully aware of all you are capable of doing,’ he replied, his eyes glittering silver in the lamplight. ‘For once in your life will you just be silent and allow someone else to take care of you?’

Arabella was instantly cowed by the obvious fierceness of his anger; Darius looked perfectly capable of wringing someone’s neck at this moment—and for once it did not appear to be her own!

‘I suggest you stay here and check out the rest of the stables, Gray,’ Darius instructed the younger man, before turning to stride down the stables with Arabella held securely in his arms.

She was glad of those arms about her as Darius stepped outside into the cold and windy night. She had overheard one of the servants predicting this morning that there would be snow before the night was out, and from the icy chill in the air she could well believe it.