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He seemed to deflate. When her father looked at her, next, it was with the same stubbornness with which she had looked at him before.
“I’m not afraid of the coward who is attacking us,” he stated firmly. “When he comes for me, I will be ready for him.” As he said it, his hand went to his pocket.
“Pappa,” she said, her heart melting for him.
He raised his chin. “No, Arabella. I refuse to be frightened, or coddled.”
“But—but Pappa do you know who it might be?” she asked setting down her bow and arrow on the stone bench. She tugged her gloves onto her freezing fingers.
“Not the slightest, my dear,” he replied. “Do not fear for me—I’ve done nothing wrong. There’s no reason why I should worry.”
She frowned. Her father turned away from her walking briskly back toward the house. She watched his back as he walked. He was holding his shoulders back, his head high.
What does he know that he’s not telling me?
* * *
Charles remained at home that evening. He dined alone. After he had finished, he went up to his study. As far as rooms went, it was on the spare side. He built up the fire for himself then poured a drink.
He sat staring into the fire thinking of Arabella. It seemed almost impossible that he had thought that she could ever…ever be his wife. He should have known.
It was agonizing. He thought of the two times that they had kissed. Now that he knew the touch of her lips, the soft sigh that she made when she pulled away—he couldn’t go back. Everything she did was tantalizing. He wanted to take her to his bed, learn all of the other little things she did when she was pleased. To know that he’d never get that close to her was devastating.
Charles was a proud man. He wasn’t the sort to believe himself to be beneath another. Until they reminded him of his place. It was like a game of chess—he was often checked.
He took a sip of his drink, thinking of Lord Drysdale. He’d been a very kind gentleman. One of the kindest of Charles’s acquaintance. He wondered, who could have had the cruel heart to target him, thus? To run him down, in the dark streets, and then to kill him?
He recalled the appointment that Lord Drysdale had made with him. The Viscount had been talking excitedly, about his pending nuptials to Lady Violet Fanning.
I had never thought that I could be so happy, Lord Drysdale had said, smiling serenely.I had never thought it possible.
You love her, then? Charles had asked, because when gentlemen were in love, they only wanted to discuss how much.
Yes,Lord Drysdale had confirmed. He had, so kindly, avoided any mention of the Duke of Tiverwell and his daughter.
Sitting there in his study, Charles wondered, if he should have asked the Viscount then, if he’d received any more threats. He hadn’t, because it hadn’t crossed his mind, as they had been discussing the arrangements for the Viscount’s life.
But Lord Drysdale had been making up a will. One that included Lady Violet. Charles had met the lady, at her engagement party. She had seemed the perfect life companion to Lord Drysdale. Charles wondered if, perhaps, she knew something. Perhaps she didn’t know that it was significant.
He decided to pay her a visit. After all, he was going to have to, since she would have to be there for the reading of Lord Drysdale’s will. Instead of sending her a letter, perhaps, he would deliver it in person.
* * *
“Your dress is lovely, Lady Emily,” Arabella was saying.
“It’s new,” Lady Emily Linton replied. It was a black and cream striped silk, with black lace trim. It was after dinner, and the guests, as well as the Duke of Tiverwell and his family were gathered in the parlor.
“It’s exquisite,” Arabella said. “Just like your taste.”
“You know,” Lady Emily began, and Arabella had the feeling that Lady Emily was about to tell her something juicy, when the Duke of Longmire approached them. Lady Emily clammed up immediately, to Arabella’s disappointment.
“My Ladies,” His Grace said, bowing to them courteously.
“Your Grace,” they both said, curtsying in return.
“I was just thinking how lovely it would be to start a bit of a dance,” he told them gallantly.
“Oh, please, let’s do,” Lady Emily said. Arabella did not feel that dancing was called for, however, she found that she couldn’t possibly say no—not without gaining her father’s extreme displeasure.
