AllFreeNovel
Share Us
However, she was now calmed down. She’d even had a cup of tea and a slice of toast.
Now that she’d had time to think, she had questions.
Who could this have been? Who do they want dead?
Her father had gone as pale as a sheet when he’d come running to see why she was screaming.
“Mamma?” she asked. “Who could have done it?”
“I don’t know, sweet. Likely, someone trying to cause mischief,” her mother assured her. “Certainly no one actually meant to do any of us harm.”
“They didn’t,” Arabella agreed. “Or they would have done so last night instead of redecorating the dining room.”
“Oh, Arabella,” her mother said, her hand going to her mouth.
She stood up. “I need to speak with Pappa,” she announced.
“He’s busy, sweet,” her mother said.
“I think I can help,” she replied.
“Darling, sit down, please,” her mother begged. “You shouldn’t go running about the house.”
Arabella gasped. “Do you think they’re still in here?”
“They might be,” her mother replied sternly. “Let’s stay here until the constable and his men are done searching.”
Arabella sighed, sitting back down. This was the worst part—she knew where the point of entry had been—the servants’ stairwell and corridors—but she couldn’t tell anyone.
Not without putting a stain on both her own and Mr. Conolly’s reputations. She knew—it wouldn’t do to ruin either one. Not when she meant to marry him.
* * *
Charles followed the Duke of Tiverwell out the front door of Tiverwell Manor. They walked in grim silence down the front steps. In the drive, there were two carriages—the sleek black barouche-landau for the family, as well as a less elegant and much smaller chaise to take Charles to London.
He glanced toward the back, where his trunk was being secured by a pair of the Duke’s footmen. When he turned, Lady Arabella was walking toward him. She was dressed for travel, in a green travelling coat and a straw bonnet.
“Mr. Conolly,” she murmured, holding out her hand, palm down. He pressed it in his, finding that she was hiding a piece of paper with her thumb. He took it, rolling his fingers along her palm as he bowed to her.
“Unfortunately, My Lady, I must bid you adieu before we have the chance to fence again.” He took his hand back, the rolled paper tucked safely away in his fist.
“A great misfortune,” she replied. “However, when I arrive in London for the Season, I will be sure to challenge you again.”
“Until we meet again in London, then.”
Her eyes said far more than she was able to say. He smiled, hoping that his own gave her similar assurances. By the incandescent smile that was spreading across her face, he had the feeling that they did.
“Mr. Conolly,” the Duke said, and Charles turned toward him abruptly. His Grace was tugging on a pair of gloves. Charles hoped he had not noticed the exchange between Lady Arabella and himself. “I will be in touch with further directions. Until then, please get in touch with Matthew Rapson.” He lowered his voice, so his wife and daughter could not hear.
“I will, Your Grace,” Charles promised. “As soon as I am in London.”
“Very good,” the Duke said, turning back toward his wife. “Come. We must be off.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Conolly,” the Duchess said.
“Goodbye, Your Grace,” he replied, bowing to her. The Duke helped her up into the carriage, then followed her. From the window, Lady Arabella waved to him.
He stood in the drive, watching as the carriage left, bearing Lady Arabella and her parents away. He looked down at the rolled piece of paper. He unrolled it, reading the note that was written on it.
