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“When I was studying in Florence, a group of us women artists started secret life-drawing sessions with laborers who needed extra coin. You may think me lewd, ladies, but a muscular male body is a work of art in itself. His lordship puts me more in mind of those laborers than nearly any other peer I’ve seen.” She sighed dramatically. “I suppose I have little chance of persuading a marquess to pose for me nude.”
Arabella could not take her eyes off him. “I doubt you could find a canvas large enough to hold a portrait of himandhis immense presence.”
“Oh, it’s not his immensepresenceI’d be concerned about.”
Juno chuckled and Cassandra’s blush was almost audible, but Arabella could not smile.
They left soon afterward, her room and spirits transformed.
“You will be better for the ball, I trust,” Cassandra said, turning in the doorway.
“Of course,” Arabella said. “A ball is a medical miracle. The mere mention of a ball can make an ill person suddenly well or a well person suddenly ill.”
A few minutes later, Holly darted in and said, in a dramatic whisper, “Miss, that thing you wanted… We think we found it.” With a furtive glance, in case any spies lurked in the corners of Arabella’s bedchamber, she offered a piece of paper.
It was exactly what Arabella had suspected: a special license, authorizing the marriage of Lady Frederica Roth to Mr. Humphrey Treadgold, Sir Walter’s son, who was due to arrive at Vindale Court the following week.
“Do we need to put it back?” Holly asked. “Joan said she found it tucked away.”
“Lord Hardbury must see this,” Arabella said. “Hopefully Sir Walter won’t notice it’s gone, as he won’t need it until his son arrives.”
Guy would have to listen tothis. Arabella had lost everything, but at least she could save Freddie. Now, she needed only to get through the ball, and then see what she could salvage from the debris of her life.
“I am not worthless and I shall not apologize,” she muttered.
“Pardon, miss?” Holly asked.
“I think I shall go for a ride.”
Chapter 12
Guy chose to watch the dancing like a wallflower, while he waited for Arabella to arrive at her betrothal-ball-with-no-betrothal. For one thing, he had forgotten half the dance steps; for another, the ball made him feel like a foreigner in his own land.
There was something so quintessentiallyEnglishabout this kind of ball. Lemonade and supper, flowers and foliage, orchestra and gleaming chandeliers. White gowns, white gloves.
And an old bore rattling away at his side.
“…our Humphrey has distinguished himself in Ireland, so you’ll find him of value…” Sir Walter was saying.
No doubt it was Guy’s fate to spend his life with some self-important chap attached to his side, spouting obsequious opinions and unsolicited advice. Not unlike Mr. Larke and his parrot.
Maybe Guy should get a parrot. More stimulating conversation, at least.
“I’m returning to London tomorrow,” he interrupted.
The morning after that midnight encounter, Guy had ordered his valet to pack—until a startling realization had compelled him to stay.Freddieneeded protection, Arabella had warned; not Ursula, only Freddie.
Now he stood in this merry, musical crowd only so he could seek Arabella’s explanation while in a public place, not because he wanted to hear Sir Walter blather on about how they were family or soon would be or some nonsense like that.
Damn. What a failure of strategy, giving the impression he was courting Matilda. It had not tempted Sir Walter to confess any sins. Quite frankly, diplomacy and subterfuge were a waste of time.
Guy would leave the next day.
Arabella would leave the next day too, he had heard, to travel to her grandparents’ house. Only to be expected, the guests agreed, best for a lady after such a disappointment.
A disappointment? Whatever Arabella had experienced with Sculthorpe, Guy was sure it was not a disappointment.
Perhaps he would ask her, when he spoke to her. He would exorcise the feel of her in his arms and leave tomorrow with a clear head.
