AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“So soon? He only arrived a week ago,” Arabella said.
“Something has come up at Drysdale House, which he must attend to,” her father replied.
“Well, that’s too bad, but I suppose can’t be helped.” Arabella was not sorry in the least.
“We had hoped that the two of you might…come to an understanding,” her father said. “From the way that Lord Drysdale talks, it seems as though he’s given up hope.”
“Pappa, Mamma—I thought that the two of you have been adamant that I fall in love before I choose to marry.”
They both looked at each other, then at her.
“We would prefer it, certainly,” her mother said.
Arabella blinked. It sounded as though there was a “however” coming after that.
“We want to make sure that you’re provided for—that you have a home,” her mother said.
“Was Mr. Conolly unsuccessful?” she asked.
“Upon my death, I have decided that the London townhouse will go to Lord Norton. Your mother’s fortune will be divided from the entail, and your mother plans to retire to Bath.”
“Are you dying, Pappa?” she asked.
“No, sweetling, not for a while yet,” he said, even though he’d gone frighteningly pale.
“Why can’t I move to Bath with Mamma?” she asked.
“Arabella, it sounds to me like you’re planning not to marry at all,” her father said.
She sat there, staring at the both of them. “Why are you forcing me to marry?”
“It is what’s right, Arabella,” her mother said. “A lady must marry.”
Arabella sighed. Luckily, she was in fact, falling in love. “Very well,” she said.
She needed to meet with Mr. Conolly. She needed to get him to talk to her father. Things needed to be settled between them. Her parents looked at her in surprise.
* * *
Charles had been surprised when he’d opened his bedroom door to find Annette standing there. She said nothing, just held out the folded letter. He took it. She curtsied, and then left.
He opened the letter.
Mr. Conolly,
Please meet with me, at eleven of the clock, in the servants’ stairwell. I need to speak with you, urgently.
AMF.
He sat down on his bed, staring at the letter in his hands. If they were caught, he would lose the Duke of Tiverwell as a client, as well as many other clients. To be caught meeting with the daughter of a Duke in the middle of the night was so improper it was…
He was going, he knew. She was young and impulsive. He would tell her that they needed to wait. She was seventeen. He well recalled how he himself had been at seventeen.
If he could convince her to wait—six months, a year—then they would have time, to get to know each other. To be assured that they were suited to each other. And, that she was willing to make the sacrifice that she would, were she to become his wife.
He walked over to the fireplace, picking up a match, striking it. He lit the letter, watching her words be devoured by flame. Charles was well aware of the danger of keeping illicit correspondence.
As much as he would have treasured it, he could not be caught with something of the sort. Just in case Lady Arabella changed her mind, and didn’t show up herself.
