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“Of course not.” Mama squeezed her hand and stood. “You must pull yourself together, Arabella. It was ghastly, I know, but you cannot indulge your misery forever. We fall over and then we get back up and face the world as though nothing is amiss.”
“I shall be better tomorrow.”
She slept all day as if she truly were ill. At one point, she awoke and lay staring at nothing, her mind also invaded by gray fog. Eventually, she realized someone was sitting by the fire.
Arabella propped herself up on her elbows. “Freddie?”
Freddie looked up. “You don’t mind I’m here?”
“Not at all. Why are you here?”
“They won’t look for me here. If they find me, they’ll take away my sewing.”
Arabella sat up further. A mass of teal fabric was spread over Freddie’s lap. “What are you sewing?”
“One of the German ornithologists described the Turkish trousers his niece wears to rideen cavalier.” Freddie stood and shook them out. “You see, they are a kind of pantaloon, which means I can ride astride, but because they billow, they are modest. He told me it is not uncommon for ladies on the Continent to rideen cavalier. But Lady Treadgold insists it is not becoming.”
“That is an excellent solution. I recall a portrait of Marie Antoinette dressed and mounted thus.”
“Indeed!” Freddie dropped back into her chair and arranged her sewing over her lap. “I told Lady Treadgold that, but she pointed out that Marie Antoinette was guillotined.”
“It is safe to say that the reasons for her beheading were more complex than the way she rode a horse.”
“I don’t know,” Freddie said glumly. “I feel that I shall be beheaded if I do not behave as they say I should.”
Arabella had no response to that. She was hardly in a position to offer reassurances. How abhorrent to think that dreamy, original Freddie might face a similar dilemma to her own! Not if she could prevent it.
“Do you know if Sir Walter has found someone for you to marry?” she asked.
Freddie resumed sewing. She was silent so long Arabella wondered if she had forgotten their conversation.
“I’m nineteen,” Freddie finally said. “Lady Treadgold says it’s time now we’re out of mourning. She says I’m an heiress and my brother is a marquess, so it doesn’t matter that I’m not pretty or good with people.”
“But have they suggested any names?” Arabella persisted. “Held parties with suitable gentlemen? Made a point of introducing anyone to you?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Thatwas suspicious. One would expect Sir Walter and Lady Treadgold to be seeking a suitable husband for their ward. Sir Walter would not miss an opportunity to forge new connections by parading the wealthy sister of a marquess about like a prize ewe.
The fact that they were not encouraging Freddie to wed strengthened Arabella’s theory about their scheme. If only she—or rather, the servants—could find the proof.
“What about spring?” she asked. “Are they planning to take you to London for the Season?”
“No. I mean, they said they might. I don’t know. I don’t care. It isn’t as though anyone will ever court me properly. Men like Matilda. They like my money.” She stared at the ceiling. “I wonder what it is like, to be admired and flattered, to have a man whisper sweet nothings and make one feel special.”
“I wouldn’t know. Men never whisper sweet nothings to me.”
Except Guy, mocking her, that night in London, tenderly tucking a flower behind her ear, his eyes intent, her surprised lips still tingling from their first kiss.She walks in beauty like the night…
Longing throbbed through her. Immediately after their lovemaking, when her body was still trembling with erotic sensations, he had wrapped his arms around her and held her against his hot skin, his fast-beating heart. By some miracle, that had made her feel complete. As though in gathering her to him, he had gathered her together, merging her familiar parts with those parts she kept secret, even from herself.
Don’t be ridiculous, she scolded herself. After the pain and indignity she had suffered at the hands of one man, how could she possibly crave the embrace of another? Maybe it wasn’t about Guy. Maybe she simply longed to feel someone’s arms around her again.
“I imagine it would depend on whether he meant the words and whether he values you,” Arabella added. “I shouldn’t be in a hurry for it.”
“I just wonder what it would be like, that’s all.”
Arabella had no answer for that either, so she dropped back onto the pillows and once more closed her eyes.
