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Only two options remained to her: marry Guy or experience complete ruin.
Mr. Larke remained unbothered. “Enough with that nonsense,” he grumbled at Lady Treadgold. “They’ll be married shortly. Won’t you, Hardbury?” he added sharply.
Guy’s eyes did not leave his betrothed. Sweet peace flooded through him, for the first time in years.
“No need to clean your guns, Larke,” he said. “I have every intention of marrying your daughter as planned.”
Almost immediately, Lady Belinda took control and herded everyone out. Everyone but Arabella and Guy, neither of whom had moved. In the doorway, she paused. “Five minutes,” she said, “and the door stays open.”
“Stable door,” Arabella muttered. “Horse bolted.”
“The door stays open,” Lady Belinda repeated.
“Yes, my lady,” Guy said, and closed the door as soon as she was gone.
He lounged back against it to study Arabella.
“This was never my intention,” she said.
“I know.”
She stood, her fingers steepled, her narrowed eyes boring a hole in the ceiling. The wheels of her brain were spinning; he could hear them whirring from across the room. She was still fighting. It was over, and still she fought.
“By the lake that day,” he ventured through his tight throat. “You said that marrying me would be the worst thing in the world.”
A terse shake of her head suggested she was irritated by his intrusion. “I cannot think of a way out of this. I have always prided myself on being able to solve any problem and being good at making plans. But I ambadat it.” The notion appeared to astound her. “I won’t even find a position as a governess after this.”
“Why the devil would you need to? You’ll be a marchioness.”
She blinked at him, as if that notion astounded her too. “You’re very sanguine, considering you’ve spent your entire life avoiding precisely this. Your wretched honor and sense of duty, I suppose. Admirable as they are, they have landed you in such a mess. I arrived here through terrible planning. You’re so impulsive you simply waded right in.”
Oh so help him, but she was struggling like an animal in a snare; if she kept this up, she might just chew off a limb. She had never wanted to marry him either. She still didn’t; only he had made that leap. He could tell her that— But no. Unbidden, Clare’s words clouded his brain:The more you told me you loved me, the more trapped I felt.
Arabella’s choices had been stolen too. And Arabella needed time and space to think. Rational thought would help calm her. Rational reasons would make her feel safe. He had to tread carefully, and not scare her away.
He navigated the furniture to reach her side and took one chilled hand in his.
“Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t hide behind your walls.”
How charming was her confusion, when he observed a truth about her. He knew such things now, knew them like he knew that tiny mole on her left cheek. He brushed it with a knuckle.
“All things considered,” he said softly, “I think you’ll find I’m not quite the worst thing that could happen to you.”
Mercifully, she did not retreat fully into her haughty aloofness, but neither was she melting in a puddle of smiles and sighs. A perfect future stretched out in front of them; Guy was indeed eager to wade right into it, but Arabella would need time to think.
He entwined his fingers with hers. “If this charade has taught us anything, it’s that we can rub along quite well,” he continued with a lightness he did not feel. “We’ll quarrel like two devils, of course, but we’re used to that now. You will help me navigate society and politics, and I’ll temper your more Machiavellian tendencies. And the marital bed will be satisfying, to say the least.”
She studied their joined hands. “You wanted to marry someone amiable, pleasant.”
“You were right: I’d be bored. You will never be boring.”
She looked back up at him. A triumph: Her bleakness was gone, her face aglow with humor.
“You’re saying I was right?” she said.
