Lady Arabella's Scandalous Marriage (16 page)

She closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into his embrace as the warmth emanating from his body began to melt some of the chill that seemed to go right through to her bones. She had absolutely no idea who had abducted her. Or why. She was just pleased to be safe once again. So much so that she could feel the prick of hot tears behind her closed eyelids.

She must not cry. It would be most unbecoming of a duchess to show such weakness. For Arabella St Claire—no,
Wynter
!—to show such weakness.

Even so, to her mortification, Arabella felt the hot
burn of tears as they began to cascade unchecked down her cheeks.

Darius’s arms tightened about her as he entered the house and saw the wet tracks of tears falling down the pallor of her cheeks. ‘Bring some brandy into the Blue Salon, man,’ he told the hovering Westlake before taking Arabella into the room where they had made love only that morning.

The heated fierceness of their lovemaking seemed so long ago now, and Darius’s emotions were not in the least carnal as he laid her gently down upon the chaise before sitting down beside her to take both her cold little hands into his own and trying to instil some warmth into their chill. And all the time the tears continued to trail down through the dirty smudges upon Arabella’s cheeks, as evidence of the fright she had so recently suffered.

Darius’s mouth thinned grimly as he thought of the things he would like to do to the person who had taken her. ‘Did you see who did this to you?’ he asked again.

‘No.’ She released one of her hands, attempting to wipe the tears from her cheeks but only succeeding in smearing those dirty smudges further. ‘He attacked me from behind. Put a hand over my mouth and an arm about my throat.’ She shuddered delicately. ‘I was so frightened, Darius,’ she admitted shakily as she looked up at him with huge brown, tear-wet eyes. ‘So very, very frightened!’ She sat up to throw herself against his chest, fingers clinging tightly to his waistcoat as the tears fell in earnest.

Darius’s thoughts were murderous as he held her tightly in his arms and rested his cheek against the soft
ness of her hair. Arabella always gave the impression of independence. Of being able to take care of herself and needing nothing and no one. Most especially not a man to take care of her. The fact that she sobbed so brokenly against his chest now told him just how very frightened she must have been earlier tonight. How frightened she still was.

He glanced up as Westlake quietly entered the salon with a tray containing the decanter of brandy and two glasses. His expression was telling as he gave the other man a fierce glance.

Westlake’s face was just as grimly drawn as he glanced down at the sobbing Arabella in Darius’s arms before giving a firm nod. Telling Darius that, although she had only been at Winton Hall a matter of days, she had nonetheless managed to creep into the affections of the hardened pugilist. Reassuring Darius that Westlake, like himself, would leave no stone unturned in his search for her abductor.

Darius reached down to put Arabella away from him before he stood up to pour brandy into the two glasses, allowing Arabella to take a reviving sip from her own glass before questioning her again. ‘You must have seen something, Arabella.’ He frowned. ‘Could you tell if it was a man or a woman who—?’

‘It was a man, of course.’ She looked up at him indignantly over the rim of her glass. ‘I would not have been taken at all if it had been a woman.’ Her free hand clenched into a fist at her side.

Darius did not doubt her ability to defend herself for a moment. Unfortunately, the fact that she believed her abductor to be a man did not help in the least in identi
fying him. It could have been Francis, of course. But, as Darius had told Gray earlier, it could just as easily have been a man working for Helena Jourdan. Someone in his own household, who could easily get in and out without suspicion…

Darius’s mouth tightened. ‘Do you remember anything about this man? Was he tall or short? Fat or thin? Did he have a distinctive smell of some kind?’ It was a sad fact of life that servants did not wash as often as they ought.

Arabella took another sip of the warming brandy before closing her eyes as she tried to recall in detail those few moments in her bedroom when she had had that hand placed over her mouth and the arm about her throat. ‘He was tall, I think. As he stood behind me his arms came up easily over my shoulders to hold me so that I could neither move nor shout for help. Neither fat nor thin, I would say, but muscled—like you,’ she continued. ‘As to smell? I
do
recall something…Something slightly floral, I think. Which is no help at all.’ She gave a disgusted shake of her head as she opened her eyes again. ‘That could be either a man or a woman.’

‘Not quite, love,’ Darius drawled. ‘Did the muscled chest have any breasts upon it?’

Colour warmed her cheeks as she answered. ‘No.’

‘A man, then.’ Darius nodded his satisfaction. ‘The jacket of the arms that came about your shoulders—was it made of a soft and expensive material, or something rough, like a labourer or servant might wear?’

‘It was…soft.’ Arabella nodded eagerly as she recalled the fabric. ‘Like a velvet or fine wool.’

‘Good.’ Darius praised her with a small smile. ‘Did he speak at all? Even once?’

‘I am afraid not.’ Arabella sighed her disappointment before taking another distracted sip of the reviving brandy. ‘There is one thing that puzzles me, though…’

‘Yes?’

‘Why do you suppose that someone went to all the trouble of abducting me from my bedchamber only to leave me trussed up like a chicken in the stables?’

Once again Arabella showed the intelligence that Darius both applauded and feared. He could not have borne to be married to a stupid woman, but her obvious intelligence was making it very hard for him to continue hiding the truth from her.

Recalling his earlier decision to tell Arabella about his brother Francis, Darius knew that, with her abduction tonight, the time had come to confide
that
truth to her, at least….

A
rabella held out her glass for Darius to refill it with brandy even as she stared up at him in disbelief for the things he had just related to her. ‘You are saying that Francis was responsible for the death of both your first wife
and
your brother George?’ she repeated breathlessly.

Her husband looked severe. ‘That he caused Sophie to fall from her horse to her death and George to have a fatal seizure of the heart? Yes, that is exactly what I am saying, Arabella.’

She stared up at him wide-eyed. ‘I—But—You—’

‘I am well aware that most of Society believes
me
—to be guilty of killing my wife—as Francis intended that they should—and a few even whisper that I had a hand in causing George’s death too,’ Darius said simply. ‘They are wrong.’ His arrogantly handsome face hardened noticeably as he looked down at her in challenge.

Arabella took another hasty sip of brandy, wondering if it could be the alcohol, along with her earlier ordeal, that was causing her to have hallucinations. Darius
could not
really
have just informed her that his own brother had maliciously killed two people and deliberately implicated Darius as being responsible for those deaths.

People—
gentlemen
—did not just go around randomly killing other people….

But of course they did! For years gentlemen of the ton had been known to ‘go abroad for their health’ after they had committed some crime or other punishable by law. Had not Arabella herself made some such teasing remark to Darius when she’d learnt of Francis Wynter’s banishment to the Continent?

‘
You
were wrong, Arabella,’ Darius added softly.

Arabella looked at him from beneath lowered lashes, feeling guilty as she recalled that in a fit of temper she had more than once accused Darius of being involved in the death of his wife.

Yet since coming to know Darius better—since becoming his wife, since making love with him—Arabella had known there had to be some other explanation for those rumours. She could no longer believe Darius guilty of killing anyone, but she had not dreamt the true explanation would somehow involve Darius’s younger brother!

She moistened dry lips. ‘It has been some time now since I believed you capable of doing anything like that.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes.’ Arabella was not in the least daunted by the disbelief she could read in Darius’s expression. ‘Since our marriage I have come to realise that you are every bit as arrogant as my own brothers, and that if you had
truly killed someone then you would feel no qualms about admitting you had done so.’

Darius raised an eyebrow. ‘Even at the risk of imprisonment or worse?’

‘Yes.’

‘I am unsure as to whether that is a compliment or yet another of your insults!’ Darius’s mouth twisted ruefully.

‘It is a simple statement of truth,’ Arabella assured him briskly. ‘You say it was always Francis’s intention that you be thought responsible for the deaths?’

‘Yes.’ Darius sighed heavily. ‘I realised how neatly that guilt was to be laid at my feet last summer, when it became obvious that Francis intended to kill me too and make it look as if I had taken my own life because I could no longer live with the guilt of what I had done.’

Arabella gasped. ‘That is truly terrible! He is a monster, Darius! How could you have simply let him escape to the Continent? Tacitly accept the blame for the death of your wife and brother when the guilt really lay elsewhere?’

‘He is my
brother
, Arabella.’

‘He is a
murderer
!’ she retorted hotly.

‘Yes.’ Darius frowned darkly.

‘And now you think he is back in England and once again attempting to kill you?’

‘Perhaps,’ Darius allowed. ‘Which is why we have to now discuss why his actions, both past and present, are of import to you.’

‘To me?’ Arabella echoed sharply.

‘You are now my wife,’ he pointed out gently.

‘I fail to see what that has to do with—’ She broke off, her eyes widening even as her face paled. ‘You are believed guilty of those two crimes because the death
of your first wife left you in possession of her fortune, and the death of your eldest brother left you as heir to a dukedom…’ She spoke softly, deep in thought, for the moment ignoring the look of distaste upon Darius’s arrogantly handsome face. ‘When in reality the fact that your first wife was already dead when you became Duke of Carlyne—’

‘
Conveniently
dead, remember?’ her husband drawled dryly.

‘Stop it, Darius!’ Arabella gave him an irritated frown as he reminded her of her own accusation.

‘I apologise.’ He grimaced ruefully. ‘Please proceed.’

Arabella shot him a narrow-eyed glance. ‘Because you had been widowed by the time George died, you had no wife with whom you could provide a legitimate heir. And so if you were also to meet an accidental death then Francis would inherit the title…’

Darius revealed none of his admiration for his wife as he looked at her from beneath hooded lids. Which was not to say he did not admire her—very much. In only a matter of seconds, it seemed, she had managed to grasp the motivation behind Francis’s causing the death of two completely innocent people. For also, possibly, being the cause of the most recent ‘accidents’ involving Arabella and Darius.

‘Until you remarried you were not in danger,’ she continued slowly. ‘But now our marriage once again allows for the eventual appearance of a legitimate heir…’

‘I am not sure that I altogether like your repeated references to a “legitimate” heir, Arabella,’ Darius said. ‘I have already assured you that to my knowledge, I have no illegitimate heirs, either!’

Once again she felt the warmth enter her cheeks. ‘It was only a figure of speech, Darius.’

‘One I do not care for,’ he muttered.

‘You are grasping at irrelevancies—’

‘It is
not
irrelevant to me!’

‘Very well.’ Arabella gave a cool nod. ‘Is the rest of my theory a factual one?’

She could see that Darius’s jaw was clenched and his teeth gritted as he obviously fought back his temper. Although why he should be so annoyed by it Arabella had no idea; Darius’s numerous affairs over the previous ten years had become legendary—so was it not logical to assume that there might have been one or two unwelcome consequences to those alliances?

‘It is,’ he said curtly.

‘Why did you tell me—? Why did you deliberately lead me to believe that you were responsible for Sophie’s death?’ She eyed him reprovingly.

‘Because I
am
responsible,’ Darius snarled. ‘If I had not married Sophie then Francis would not have felt the need to be rid of her.’

‘That does
not
make you responsible—’

‘I disagree,’ he cut in, that coldness back in his expression. ‘I did not know it at the time, but I placed Sophie in danger just by marrying her.’

Arabella eyed him guardedly. ‘You have already indicated to me that you were not in love with her. Why not?’ She drew her breath in sharply, uncertain whether she would be able to withstand hearing that Darius
had
, in fact, been in love with his first wife after all…

‘We…respected each other for the honesty of our…needs.’ Darius’s jaw was set tensely.

‘I do not understand.’

Darius placed his clenched hands behind his back. ‘It was a marriage of convenience. Sophie wished for a title, and I was obviously in need of her fortune.’

Arabella frowned.

Darius looked rueful. ‘Unpleasant, is it not?’

It had not been a love-match, certainly, but many a match was made amongst the ton for far lesser reasons. Except…‘Was it for financial gain that you also offered for
me
last year?’

Darius lowered heavy lids to hide the expression in his eyes. ‘I do not believe this conversation to be of any relevance to the here and now.’

‘It is relevant to
me
!’ Arabella insisted.

‘Why is it?’ Darius eyed her quizzically. ‘What do you wish me to say, Arabella? What do you wish to hear? That I offered for you prior to offering for Sophie because I had need of
your
fortune? Or that I offered for you because I have loved you, been obsessed with you, since the moment I first set eyes on you?’

Arabella felt a painful twisting in her chest. ‘We both know that the latter is not true.’

‘Then it must be the first, must it not?’ Darius rasped harshly.

Arabella’s heart felt heavy. ‘You are right. This conversation is not helping our present situation.’ She drew herself up proudly. ‘If my abductor tonight
was
Francis, then why do you suppose he only took me from my bedchamber before leaving me tied up in the stables? Surely the death of a second wife in little over a year would have sealed your guilt in the eyes of the law, as well as the ton?’

Darius should have felt relieved at this sudden return to the events of this evening, but what he really felt was a cold and icy shiver down the length of his spine at the thought of Arabella being at Francis’s questionable mercy. ‘Perhaps he did it to show me that he could?’

He had thought that by banishing Francis to the Continent he had solved the dilemma of his younger brother’s despicable actions. But these last few days of ‘accidents’, to Arabella, as well as himself, and then her senseless abduction, served to convince Darius that if Francis were the one responsible for these things then the mental sickness that so obviously held him in its grip must be worsening; his brother was becoming a danger to himself, as well as to others.

Unless, as Grayson preferred to believe, Francis was not the one to blame, but rather it was the vengeful Helena Jourdan?

Darius had to admit that the fact that Arabella had been taken from her bedchamber this evening to be left in the stables, tied up but unharmed, did not seem like something that Francis would have done. Surely once Francis had got his hands on Arabella he would have arranged for her to die whilst he had the chance?

‘Perhaps he did,’ Arabella agreed distractedly now. ‘But just because Francis is your brother it does not seem sufficient reason to me for you to continue to allow the ton to believe that you are the one guilty of these awful deeds!’ She looked up at him searchingly.

His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘Believe me, Arabella, my reputation is well able to withstand the scandal.’

‘But—’

‘It really is better left as it is,’ Darius insisted firmly.

‘Better for whom, exactly?’ she shot back.

‘For everyone.’ His expression was bleak. ‘Have you forgotten the existence of my sister-in-law, Margaret?’

Ah. The Dowager Duchess of Carlyne. George’s widowed wife.

Arabella’s gaze sharpened. ‘You prefer that she continues to believe that
you
rather than Francis may be guilty of killing her husband?’

Darius stood up impatiently. ‘Margaret does not believe me responsible for killing anyone.’

‘I appreciate that she has remained here at the Dower House since her husband died, but surely once she returned to town for our wedding she would have heard the gossip about you.’

‘If she did then she will have dismissed it,’ Darius said, his gaze glacial. ‘My sister-in-law knows me, you see, Arabella. She knows unequivocally that I would never have harmed George in any way. He was my brother, Arabella.’ His voice deepened emotionally. ‘I have already explained that he was older than me by twenty years and more. What I did not tell you is that he and Margaret effectively became parents to Francis and myself after our father died. We grew up here with their own son, Simon, and we were all treated exactly the same by them. As such, I loved both Margaret and George. I deeply respected them, and would never, ever have wished George harm. Margaret may very well have heard the gossip whilst in town for our wedding.’ His expression was grim. ‘But I assure you that she will have dismissed those rumours as the mere tittle-tattle that they are.’

Arabella cheeks flushed uncomfortably as she
heard the underlying accusation in Darius’s tone. ‘But the truth would exonerate you completely in the eyes of Society—’

‘I do not give
that—
’ he snapped his finger and thumb together dismissively ‘—for what Society thinks of me!’

‘And my family? Should
they
not be told the truth?’ Arabella looked up at him in frustration.

Darius looked haughty. ‘Why?’

‘Because—well, because—’

‘Because you do not want them to think badly of your husband?’ he taunted. ‘Or because you no longer want them to think badly of
you
for marrying the man Society believes me to be?’

Arabella flinched. ‘You are deliberately twisting my words, Darius.’

‘Do you not think that Margaret has already suffered enough, with the death of her only son two and a half years ago, followed by that of her husband but seven months ago? What good would it do now to start the gossip all over again by publicly claiming my innocence of any wrongdoing? For Margaret to learn that, although George was ill, he still need not have died when he did? That but for Francis’s actions she would almost certainly not be alone now and widowed?’

Once again Arabella felt the prick of tears behind her lids as she thought of all that Margaret Wynter had suffered.

Her expression softened as she looked up at her husband. ‘Why do you choose to keep your kindness to your sister-in-law, your love and loyalty for your family, hidden behind a social mask of arrogance and coldness?’

‘Because I
am
cold and arrogant, damn it!’ Darius glared down at her fiercely. ‘The fact that I choose to avoid even more of a family scandal by not revealing the truth does not make me any less the selfish man Society believes me to be.’

Arabella knew Darius was often arrogant and mocking. That he could be cold and hard, too. But he was
not
selfish. Far from it.

Once again Darius seemed to have overlooked the fact that she had three older brothers who were just as outwardly arrogant, and who could also be cold and hard. But as their sister, Arabella knew there was so much more to them than the faces they chose to show to Society.