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“How much did you hear?” he said and winced at the inadvertently incriminating question.
“‘I’ll ask for the waltz at tomorrow night’s ball’,” she repeated, her tone one of cruel mockery.
“We’ll just see ourselves out,” Lockhart said, awkwardly backing from the room and pulling a cringing Thurmont along with him. Arabella allowed them to pass, her icy gaze never wavering from his person as the door quietly closed behind her.
He tried his best not to panic. “Will you let me explain?”
She crossed her arms. “I doubt anything you say will fix things.” Her face twisted as she cast her gaze to the floor. “I cannot believe this is happening to me again.”
“It’s not. Please, listen to me.” He reached her in three long strides and grasped her hands. “I’m not going through with the bet. I just didn’t want to tell them yet in order to stall for time. Thurmont plans to have me do something humiliating, and I wanted to wait a while. I was going to tell you, I swear it. Arabella, look at me.” He swallowed at the sight of her tear-stained cheeks, and knew what needed to be said. “I love you.”
“How dare you,” she hissed and wrenched her hands from his grasp.
His heart sank. “You don’t believe me.”
“I’ll never believe you, not after what I’ve heard.” She shook her head. “Everything makes sense now.”
Irritation replaced his anxiety. “Does it? Or is that what your low self-esteem is telling you? I want to marry you Arabella, but if you cannot trust me, then there is no way forward for us.” His tone was harsh, borne more out of hurt and frustration, and her stricken face told him he was going about this the entire wrong way.
“Then we are done here,” she replied before squaring her shoulders with a loud, sniffling inhale through her nose. “Good evening, Your Grace.” She wrenched open the door and stormed out. He winced as the door slammed shut, his heart sinking to his toes. He ran a hand through his hair, wondering what to do next, if there was even anything to be done. Whilst he’d phrased things poorly, he’d meant his earlier words. If there was no trust between them, if he had to spend his life with her questioning his every action, then there really was no future for them. Pain bloomed within at the thought. He was beginning to understand why Lockhart and Thurmont seemed determined to avoid love, and Nathan had the distinct feeling that Arabella was about to crush his heart in her hands as he’d been warned.
* * *
Arabella realized she might have made a colossal mistake once morning came and she’d told Caroline of what had transpired yesterday evening and the words exchanged between them.
“You called it off?” her sister said incredulously, sitting at the foot of Arabella’s bed.
Arabella sat up straighter and tucked her knees to her chest with a hearty sniffle. She’d spent the night and most of the morning alternating between crying and doubting herself, and had even skipped breakfast lest she see Nathan’s face again and crumple once more. “I didn't know what else to do after what I’d heard.”
“Half a conversation?” Caroline sighed and scooted closer, resting a hand on her knee. “Arabella, why did you not believe his explanation? It makes sense that he didn't want to cast a pall over the courtship with the consequences of that stupid bet. And he said he loves you.”
She buried her head into her knees, the doubt that had tormented her all evening coming back. “I’m scared of trusting him.”
“Do you truly not believe him?” Caroline continued gently, “Or is it that you do not believe anyone would feel so strongly about you?”
Nathan had suggested the same thing, though had stated it far more harshly, perhaps out of hurt more than anything. Arabella clutched the fabric of her nightgown as tears threatened once more. After overhearing his muffled conversation with Lord Thurmont, she’d immediately decided to cast him aside, to put him in the same box as Lord Lindsay without a second thought despite his proclamations.
‘I wish to marry you, Arabella.’
She thought on the words, and the emotion with which he spoke them. Would he really have gone as far as a marriage proposal for a mere wager? Shared the painful story of his deceased family? The answer was obvious and made her want to curl up in bed and cry all over again. “I’ve made a colossal mistake.”
“I think we’ve already established that,” Caroline replied dryly. “The real question is what you plan to do about it.”
Arabella lifted her head and wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. “Where do I even begin? I must have delivered quite the blow.”
Caroline nodded. “You should have seen him at breakfast. The man looked positively morose, so much so that I didn’t dare approach him.”
The observation only confirmed her mistake, and a sharp stab of guilt pierced her chest. “Will he even speak to me, I wonder?”
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” Caroline replied with a roll of her eyes. “Of course he will. He loves you, and you love him, correct?”
“I do,” she admitted. Far longer than she’d realized, in fact. Arabella wasn’t sure when her irritation and exasperation with his antics had turned into fondness, but it was perhaps earlier than even she cared to admit. Right now, however, what mattered was salvaging that love before it was too late. “How should I proceed?”
“That’s the spirit,” Caroline said cheerfully. She put a thoughtful finger to her chin. “I think you should show that you trust him completely, that you are willing to move on from your past and believe in others.”
It was a tall order, and Arabella struggled to come up with an action that would convey such feelings to their fullest extent. “The house party ends tonight, and I fear he may leave me completely if things remain as they are. He may not even return to London, for all I know.” The thought of him fleeing to the countryside for an indefinite amount of time, letting the fragile thing they’d built whither away because of her impulsive actions, made her grow cold.
“I think I have an idea,” Caroline said.
