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“Just because someone does not share your principles does not mean they are without them.” Again, she laughed. “I take it you are not invited to her wedding.”
“I wouldn’t attend even if I were invited. If you see either her or Sculthorpe, be sure to wish them every joy of each other.”
“Perhaps your sister can relay your message at the wedding.”
“Freddie? At Arabella’s wedding?”
“I presume so. Sir Walter and his whole family are already at Vindale Court, ahead of Miss Larke’s betrothal ball.” Her head drew back. “Did you not know?”
Guy laughed, a loud, mirthless sound that flew out into the thick night air. He’d been interrogating people across the south of England, and the whole time, Clare knew. And Arabella was three steps ahead of him again.
Guy was still shaking his head as he rejoined the duke. Well played, Sir Walter, to hide in the one place in England where Guy was most emphatically not welcome. And well played, Arabella, to redouble her efforts to trap him into marriage by using Freddie and Ursula as bait.
Let Arabella scheme in vain. Guy would not go to Vindale Court.
Chapter 8
The victory was more complicated and costly than Arabella had anticipated, but it was a victory nonetheless.
“A nice haul, my clever virgin,” Lord Sculthorpe murmured, indicating Arabella’s basket of freshly picked nuts with a wave of a cigar-laden hand, as their party tramped through the woods.
And Arabella felt nothing but smug satisfaction and serene superiority.
Indeed, in the week since Lord Sculthorpe had joined the house party at Vindale Court, ahead of their betrothal ball and wedding, not one word or act from him had bothered her in the slightest.
With her desperate, dangerous, immoral deed, she had claimed herself first. She had calmed that unknown part of herself. She had won.
And if thoughts of Guy whirled inside her like a howling gale, that hardly signified. During the day, the multitude of guests kept her busy, and at night, when the memories crowded her— Well, it concerned no one but herself, what she did alone in her bed.
“Yet I fear Miss Treadgold has outdone you,” he added.
Matilda Treadgold had outdone everyone. Arabella was impressed, not because Miss Treadgold’s basket held so many nuts, but because she had not picked a single one herself. The quartet of visiting gentlemen who had joined their nutting expedition—a pair of German ornithologists, a botany student from Sierra Leone, and someone’s distant cousin—had all dedicated themselves to her service. Petite Miss Treadgold had only to gaze longingly at a nut for them to rush to pick it. Throughout it all, she remained unfailingly amiable and warm-hearted, the kind of lady who brightened a room with her presence and whom everyone enjoyed having near.
Exactly what Guy would seek in his bride.
Freddie’s basket was full too, but her treasures included stones, a feather, and an orange mushroom. Arabella’s neighbors and friends, Mrs. Cassandra DeWitt and Miss Juno Bell, had apparently abandoned nutting in favor of blackberries. Both were caught in the brambles, helpless with laughter as they tried to free each other, only to get further ensnared.
Past them, little Ursula’s nanny stayed busy trying to stop the toddler from putting things in her mouth, and Miss Norton, the efficient young governess supervising three children from other visiting families, did an admirable job of keeping her charges entertained.
“Miss Treadgold is welcome to the prize,” Arabella said to Sculthorpe.
“You do not compete?”
“Why should I compete when I have already won?”
He preened because he thought she meant him. Now she no longer feared him, he was even easier to manage than she had hoped.
Then a squeal came from Miss Treadgold.
“Oh, it’s dead! How horrific!” she cried, poking a dead squirrel with a stick.
Belatedly, she dropped the stick and jumped backward, mouth covered, eyes wide. Her retinue nobly gathered close.
“You poor girl, how do you tolerate staying in Vindale Court?” asked one of the ornithologists. “Mr. Larke’s stuffed birds are mounted everywhere.”
“Oh, they are hideous, those dead birds! They give me such nightmares.” Miss Treadgold shuddered dramatically, and the men soothed her with meaningless words.
Freddie had drifted over to peer at the dead squirrel. The children clamored to get near, but their governess held them back.
