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* * *
Charles watched her walk away from him. He couldn’t believe the conversation that they’d just had. He couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her. He would never be able to deny that he wanted her. How could he not? To him, she was perfect in every way.
He thought of her, the day before—using her injury to get close to him. He thought of the way that she’d melted up against him. He thought of the smell of her hair…
He considered following her, but then thought better of it. So he walked the opposite way, deeper into the garden. As he walked, he could hear the sound of voices.
He realized that it was the Duke and Lord Drysdale, when Lord Drysdale mentioned— “So, we’ve both gotten letters?”
“Yes,” the Duke confirmed. “Also, Danbury has one.”
He was curious—why would they meet to discuss the letters without him? Quickly, he ducked behind an evergreen tree, which was thick with foliage.
“It has to be someone through Millgate,” the Duke said. “Potentially himself.”
“Why would he threaten us, though?” Drysdale asked. “His business thrives because of us.”
“We need to put distance between ourselves. For our safety,” His Grace said.
“Agreed. I will head out upon the morrow.”
“I am sorry, Drysdale. I was hoping that through proximity with my daughter, then perhaps a romance might flourish between the two of you.”
“Alas,” Lord Drysdale said. “It is not meant to be.”
“For that, I am truly disappointed. A marriage between our two families would have been a most advantageous match on both sides.”
“We cannot help where the heart chooses to love,” Drysdale said. “Or not love, as the case may be.”
The Duke responded, but Charles couldn’t hear what he said. They were moving away from him. His mind was a frenzy of emotions. The Duke of Tiverwell suspected that they were being threatened as a result of their club. Why would he have hidden that from Charles, then?
Who is the gentleman that they refer to as himself?
He began to walk back toward the house, his mind a whirl of disconnected thoughts.
* * *
Arabella and Annette returned to Arabella’s rooms. She had spent all of her energy, walking out to the garden. Her ribs ached, so she laid herself down on her bed, closing her eyes.
Annette had called her back in, when she had spied her father and Lord Drysdale, heading out into the garden around the side of the house. It seemed that the hedges were the place where many secret conversations were to take place that day.
She suspected that the Duke and Lord Drysdale were plotting. Her father was very keen on her marrying Lord Drysdale. She knew that her mother had attempted to advocate on her behalf—and failed.
“Can I get you anything, My Lady?” Annette asked. Arabella opened her eyes.
“No, thank you, Annette,” she replied. There was a knock on the door, and Annette went to answer it. Arabella saw that both of her parents had come.
“My Darling,” her father said. “I heard that you went out for a walk in the garden.”
“Fresh air did me some good, Pappa.”
“How are you feeling?” her mother asked.
“As well as can be expected,” Arabella replied.
Her parents shared a look between them. Arabella’s suspicions were immediately raised. Her mother sank down into the chair that had been pulled up beside the bed.
“Lord Drysdale has just told me that he’ll be leaving Tiverwell Manor tomorrow,” her father began.
