AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Plan the wedding for London in the springtime, that every lord, lady, and gentleman in the country might bear witness.” Guy could feel Arabella vibrating beside him but he didn’t look at her. “Now seems as good a time as any to make the announcement,” he continued. “Would you like to do it, Mr. Larke, or shall I?”
Larke grinned. “You’ve realized what a gem Vindale Court is, eh?”
“Your estate is of little interest to me.”
“What’s your reason for the betrothal, then?”
Guy laughed. This was almost too absurd for words.
“Because we are in love,” he said. “What other reason could there possibly be?”
Chapter 13
Yellow wagtail. Short-eared owl. Red macaw.
Arabella drummed her fingers on the smooth oak of the massive library table as she considered Juno’s illustrations, laid out in rows as if she were playing a game of Patience.
Patience? Absurd name for a solitary card game, given she had absolutely none.
The illustrated birds might have been alive, the way they flittered under her hands. Or perhaps in the excitement of the impromptu betrothal celebrations last night, which had offered no opportunity to speak privately to Guy, her brain had been replaced with that of a goldfinch. It was certainly chattering like a goldfinch—like a whole charm of goldfinches:Need a plan. Must talk to Guy. Why did Guy do it? Doesn’t matter. Don’t care. Must make a plan. Guy doesn’t even like me. What was he thinking? Doesn’t matter. Don’t care. Need a plan. Must talk to—
Good grief! Those poor little birds must be exhausted!
In addition, her birdbrain had her hopping like a finch every time one of the library doors opened—but every time it was only a guest, wandering in to join the others lounging around in a post-ball haze.
Until the door opened for the hundredth time, finally revealing Guy.
He paused in the doorway to study her, as if struck by something unexpected. She resisted the unfamiliar urge to smooth out the skirt of her striped morning dress and adjust its long sleeves.
He was frowning, of course. Still no “happy to see you” smile for her! Then he was moving again, charging at her across the library, as he had charged across the ballroom last night: as though she were a dreadful accident about to happen and it was up to him to stop it.
She lowered her eyes to the illustration of a chiffchaff—a confusion of chiffchaffs!—but all she saw was Guy, shoulders broad in his tailored riding coat, buckskins hugging his long, booted legs, Guy coming closer and closer, bigger and bigger, setting a gale blowing through the room as the huge library shrank to a cave.
Until he was there, by her side, infuriatingly untouchable. He took up too much space and carried the elements with him: his hair tossed by the wind, his cheeks warmed by the sun, his eyes bright like leaves after rain.
Her skin burning like fire.
“You were out riding,” she said.
“Keeping track of my whereabouts already?”
“I had little choice in the matter. The standard greeting used to be ‘Good morning, Miss Larke,’ but today everyone greeted me with ‘Oh, Miss Larke, Lord Hardbury is out riding.’ One would think our engagement were a matter of such consuming importance that I could not possibly have an interest in anything else.”
A glance around the library showed a few guests eyeing them with idle curiosity, but a room this size allowed for private conversations. Nevertheless, she lowered her voice.
“I did not get a chance to thank you last night, for agreeing to…help me.” He watched her steadily; his expression gave away nothing. “I will not pretend to understand the reason you changed your mind, and I do not intend to inquire too closely, in case you change it again.”
As if already bored, he shrugged and turned away, his eyes on the pages spread out on the table. “You went to considerable trouble and risk to help Freddie. It seemed a fair exchange.”
“I didn’t help Freddie to secure an exchange,” she said. “She needed helping and I was in a position to do it.”
“I know.”
“Have you confronted Sir Walter?”
“No, and I don’t intend to. This morning, I called on Sir Gordon Bell, and with his legal advice and assistance, have written express to request an urgent hearing in Chancery.”
Arabella fingered the corner of a turtledove. A pitying of turtledoves. “And Miss Treadgold?”
