Margaret Moore (32 page)

“I love you,” Arabella whispered as she took his hand and fervently pressed her lips to his palm.

Then they kissed, revealing their feelings for each other more passionately than with mere words.

“Reunions are always touching,” the king remarked.

Arabella and Neville moved apart yet continued to hold hands. Nor did they stop looking at each other, save for an occasional glance at the most powerful man in England.

“Odd’s fish,” Charles muttered with a twinkle in his eye, “all this emotion is most unsettling. And you might set a precedent for devotion we would rather avoid. Therefore, we must order you to be wed without delay and leave the court, on pain of … separation.”

“Gladly!” Arabella replied immediately.

“At once,” Neville seconded her.

Suddenly, there was a sound of a great commotion in the corridor outside.

“Good heavens, are we under attack?” the king inquired as he put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Then the Earl of Barrsettshire burst through the door.

Chapter 22

“T
ake your hands off me!” the earl roared at the soldiers who tried to restrain him.

“Let him go,” the king ordered calmly.

When the soldiers obeyed, Lord Barrsettshire stumbled forward and threw himself on his knees before the king. “Your Majesty, spare him! Spare my son! Whatever he has done, I am sure he didn’t mean it! He is an honorable, dutiful—”

The earl halted confusedly when he finally noticed his son standing near the king, his arm around Arabella, and on his face an expression of utter disbelief.

“I thought he was under arrest,” the earl stammered.

The king rose, smiling. “A little ruse to get him here, that’s all. We had no idea it would upset anyone in this fashion, except perhaps
Farrington, but from what we understand, a little comeuppance was not amiss.”

“Then he is not under arrest, sire?”

“No.”

The earl sighed, and his stern expression softened as he looked at his son.

“I thought you would be pleased to see me in prison,” Neville said.

“No, never! You are a good and loyal Englishman, not a criminal! And if there is anyone who deserves to be punished, it is I. I was a poor father to you, Neville,” he admitted. “I set out on the wrong course when your mother left, and I was hurt and angry. I blamed you for what you could not help and pushed you away. Can you ever forgive me?”

He had tried to win his father’s love for so long, and with so little success—and he was to forgive all in a moment? “This change of heart is so sudden, so unexpected,” Neville said slowly. “I cannot grant absolution in the blink of an eye.”

The earl nodded. “Nor can I expect you to.” He sighed wearily. “We are both proud and stubborn fools. You are like me that way.”

“If you beg Arabella’s forgiveness, I might be persuaded,” Neville replied. “You’ve lied to her, Father, with no regard for her welfare or her feelings.”

Neville felt Arabella squeeze his hand, and he looked down into her pleading, sympathetic
eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she murmured.

“Yes, it does. I will find it easier to forgive him when he apologizes to you.”

“Arabella,” the earl said resolutely, “I am sorry. Can you forgive a foolish, stubborn old man?”

“Yes, my lord, I can, because it seems you recognize your son’s merit after all.”

Lord Barrsettshire approached his son and smiled wistfully. “Perhaps it would help if I explained why I told you I was going to bequeath my estate to Arabella and her husband.”

“Because you were?” Neville suggested.

“I never had any intention of giving my estate to Arabella and her husband unless she married you.”

“What?”
the couple cried simultaneously.

“I believed you were wasting what talents you possessed in this Gomorrah of a city, and when Arabella became my ward, I thought I saw a chance to make you see the error of your ways and reform. You would not listen to me, so I wanted you to marry a woman who would make the perfect wife for a wayward son.” He looked at Arabella. “I have long known that Neville craves most what he thinks he cannot have.” The earl’s expression hardened for a brief instant. “His mother was the same.”

They were interrupted by the sudden bark of the king clearing the royal throat.

“We are delighted to see this family squabble ended,” Charles said as he sat down and picked up an orange, tossing it lightly in the air. “Lord Barrsettshire, we have commanded that they marry without delay. Obviously, you will offer no objections.”

“None at all, Your Majesty.”

“Second, we think we must give these two cause to stay away from London.” He frowned gravely, although his eyes twinkled merrily. “We would not want to have our failure constantly thrown into our face. Therefore, it pleases us to grant your son an estate in Oxfordshire. Beddington is not a great estate, but could be made into one with proper management.

“We have heard, Farrington,” Charles continued with a meaningful glance at Arabella, “that you are very clever in this regard. Let us hope so.”

“He is, Your Majesty!” the earl declared. “I have it on the best authority—my bankers, Messrs. Pettigrew and Hutchins!”

“I am honored, Majesty, and promise to do my best,” Neville said, still not used to hearing his father sing his praises.

“Good. Now you all may leave us.”

Arabella curtsied, Neville and his father bowed and they walked to the door.

“Farrington!” the king called out. “May you have many children.”

Smiling, Neville turned back and made another bow. “I shall do my best in that regard, too, Your Majesty.”

“Good man!” the king replied with a chuckle. “Odd’s fish, from the looks you give each other, I think that will be your first priority, as well it should be. God speed!”

“Farewell, Your Majesty,” Arabella said happily, curtsying once more.

Yet despite her own happiness, as she looked at the Merry Monarch, she saw beneath the merriment a loneliness that reminded her that his early years had been most unhappy. Perhaps, for all his dalliance, he had yet to find a woman who truly loved him, and for that she could easily pity him.

The earl likewise turned back. “Majesty, in the matter of the Dutch—”

“Good night, Lord Barrsettshire.”

Foz idly toyed with the foot-long plume of his new hat as he watched Richard writing. “It could have been worse, you know.”

Richard angrily scratched out what he had just written.

“The audience was all drunk, I think,” Foz went on. “And you have always written comedies before, so I suppose it was only natural that they were somewhat surprised that
A Virtuous Lady
wasn’t.”

Scowling, Richard looked up from the table
where he sat surrounded by papers, ink, quills, a penknife and the stub of a candle that cast a feeble light. “Disappointed? They booed and threw rotten fruit.”

“Well, I am
sure
everybody was drunk,” Foz repeated helpfully.

Richard went back to his revisions. “They hated it and rightly so. Even I hated it. Minette couldn’t act that part if I worked with her for a hundred years. The dialogue sounded like pompous twaddle. I never should have tried anything tragic.”

Foz watched as his friend’s pen moved from ink to page and back to ink. “I didn’t think it was so very bad. Truly. I quite liked it.”

“I’m glad there was one person who didn’t want to throw something at the stage.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I can’t think of food until I rewrite this play.”

Foz nodded, sighed wearily, set his hat down, stood up and paced a little.

Richard muttered to himself, then wrote some more.

Foz sat again and reached for his hat. He tickled his chin with the plume.

“Will you keep still?” Richard growled. “I am trying to think!”

“Yes, of course, well, if you wish,” Foz stammered. “I am trying to think, too, you know.”

“Can you not think and be still at the same time?”

“I can try.”

“Then do so, or I’ll have to ask you to leave!”

“I’ve just arrived,” Foz protested.

“Then stay—but be still!”

Foz kept still for a full five minutes, staring out the window. Then he fidgeted, gave his friend a sidelong glance and tentatively whispered, “Where do you suppose Neville is?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.”

“I thought he might come to the theater.”

Richard sighed with resignation and tossed down his quill. “Thank heaven he did not. I can imagine his clever, mocking criticism, and after what he has done, I would probably have challenged him to a duel.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

Foz continued to regard Richard pensively. “That was not a nice wager, and I don’t think any of us should have agreed to it.”

“At least we had the decency to want to end it.”

“Yes,” Foz agreed slowly. “But then Neville was in a devil of situation. He was desperate.”

“That was no reason to make Lady Arabella suffer.”

“No, no, of course not.”

Richard yawned. “Is there anything to eat?”

Foz gestured at the basket near the door. “I brought some bread and cheese.”

“You are a good friend, Foz,” Richard said as he rose and fetched the basket, pulling out a still-warm loaf whose fragrance filled the tiny room. “Is there any wine?”

“Over there.”

Foz pointed at the cupboard, and Richard poured himself some in a chipped clay cup. “I am a goblin,” Foz suddenly muttered. “A what?”

“An imp, perhaps, or a gargoyle. That’s what I am.”

“A pox on your nonsense! Have you been drinking without me?”

Foz shook his head. “No. I must be moonstruck, then.”

“What the devil are you talking about?” Richard demanded before taking a bite of well-aged cheese.

“I would have to be moonstruck to think Lady Arabella would want to marry me.”

“Of course, you cannot marry Arabella now. Neville has put an end to that.”

“If he had not, I would have.”

Richard choked a little, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why? I should think you would have been delighted by the prospect of marrying her as much as a man could be about marrying anybody. If you
must shackle yourself in wedlock, she would have done quite nicely.”

“She deserves better than me.”

“You’re a fine fellow, Foz, and you’ve got the kindest, truest heart of any man I know.”

Foz’s eyes lit up at Richard’s sincere words. “Thank you, Richard.” He rose and stared down despondently at his luxurious and riotous garments. “But look at me. She can have any man she wants. Why would she want me?”

Why, indeed?
was the first thought that came to Richard’s mind, but he would not have voiced it for the world. “Because you are a good, honest, generous man.”

Foz sat down heavily. “She would never
choose
me.” He held up his hand to silence Richard before he could protest. “I’m a fool in many ways, Richard, but I’m not that much of a fool. I’ve seen the way she looks at Neville, and I’ve seen the way Neville looks at her.” Foz sighed with the sorrow of the ages. “I suppose they’ll be betrothed soon.”

Richard started. “Zounds, I think you
are
moonstruck. Or mad. Lady Arabella and Neville—betrothed?”

“Of course.”

“But he only wanted to seduce her.”

To Richard’s further astonishment, Foz shook his head and firmly said, “No. It’s more than that. We’ve both seen him with other
women. Surely you have noted the difference in the way he looks at her.”

“If I did, I thought it was because he saw her as an enemy.”

“Or because he wants her more than he can bear to acknowledge?”

Richard stared at Foz. “Foz, you astound me.” He ran his hand over his stubbled chin. “But zounds, you may be right. How did you …?”

Foz blushed modestly. “Unrequited love is my particular forte.”

“Richard?”

Both men turned toward the door as Neville stuck his head into the room.

“Oh, and Foz, too,” he continued with a tentative smile. “May I come in?”

“What do you want? Your money? I don’t have it,” Richard said coldly.

“I have come to beg your forgiveness, my friends,” Neville said contritely as he ventured into the room.

Richard raised an eyebrow. “Can this possibly be Lord Farrington?”

“I have been a fool.”

“I am delighted to hear you admit it,” Richard replied. “What has brought about this astonishing enlightenment?”

“I am not alone.”

Richard and Foz exchanged looks. “Since we must hear the cause of this miraculous revelation,
your companion shall be welcome, too.”

Neville grinned his irrepressible grin. “Then congratulate me, gentlemen, for I am betrothed to this excellent woman.”

Their eyes widened as Arabella entered the room to stand beside him.

“Lady Arabella and Neville!” Foz gave Richard a triumphant look that made Neville furrow his brow with puzzlement. “Didn’t I tell you, Richard?”

“How did you know?” Neville asked, dumbfounded. “It only happened a short time ago.”

“And before that, everything seemed hopeless,” Arabella added, equally confused.