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“Not at all. It’s very becoming,” he said automatically, at which she launched into a monologue about butterflies or flowers or something. Guy hardly heard a word. How easy she was. She made no trouble and demanded nothing, apart from the occasional rescue from nonexistent ghosts. She was precisely the kind of lady he had dreamed about these past lonely years, as he lay awake on hard beds or in rough tents and wove visions of his ideal life back home. He had been so sure that was what he wanted, so why could Miss Treadgold not stir up his blood and hold him in her thrall? Why could she not possess his mind and brighten his world and pull him in a hundred different directions all at once?
The monologue cut off abruptly. “Oh, do excuse me, my lord. My aunt needs me,” Miss Treadgold said and darted away.
Miss Treadgold apparently had magical powers, for Lady Treadgold and her needs were nowhere to be seen. But there were Arabella and her friends, emerging from the crypt.
Once more, Guy reminded himself to put distance between them, but she looked right at him, as if she was as aware of him as he was of her.
Guy waited, as still as one of those statues in the crypt. Once her friends had gone and they were alone, his limbs unfroze. They advanced toward each other, pacing as carefully as duelists on the field. Her expression was remote. She was shutting him out again. He should welcome that, but instead he felt a peculiar ache in his chest.
He had discovered so much of her true character. He had unleashed her passion, unlocked her smiles. But he was not satisfied; he wanted to know her more.
They stopped a yard apart.
“Pleased with yourself, Hardbury?” she drawled. “For saving the damsel in distress?”
“Are you not impressed with my heroics?”
“You played right into her hands.”
“The poor girl was terrified.”
“And I suppose you find that very becoming.”
Her tone was sharp. Her shoulders were stiff, her eyebrows issuing a challenge.
“Well, well, well.” Guy clapped his hands once. “You are jealous.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t be absurd. I never get jealous. I simply have limited patience when otherwise sensible men turn into fools over a woman.”
Indeed, Guy was turning into a fool over a woman, but that woman was not Matilda Treadgold.
“But I suppose you cannot help yourself,” she added. “What with her trembling need and her smiles and herblushes…”
“Youarejealous.”
“Good grief, Guy, I’d hardly be jealous of a few blushes. But do try to recall that we are meant to be engaged, and it hardly helps appearances if you insist on flirting with another lady.”
Her tone was icy, but in her eyes lurked that bleak vulnerability, undermining her proud façade.
Tenderness pierced him. Curse him for his blather, when it was neither blushes nor jealousy he sought.
He wanted Arabella to trust him enough to let him inside her walls. To reveal herself to him of her own free will, to lower the drawbridge and invite him in.
“I don’t care whether or not you blush,” he said gently. “All I want is to know you.”
Her chin jerked up. Her brow creased with confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that emerged was a huff of breath. She tried again; again, no words. Finally, with an impatient shake of her head, she whirled around and marched away.
Guy stared at her stiff, retreating back, resisting the urge to run after her. He didn’t fully understand what had just happened, but he understood this: If he wasn’t careful, Arabella was going to break his heart.
Chapter 18
Later that evening, when Arabella was dressing for dinner, Holly warned her that the Treadgold family appeared to be brewing a plot.
The maid’s suspicions made for a happy distraction. Hours after that scene outside the crypt, Arabella was still mortified over her outburst.
“All I want is to know you,” Guy had said. Well, he knew now, didn’t he? He knew that proud, perfect Arabella Larke was turning pathetic over a man. How embarrassing!
“’Twas something that Eliza said,” Holly explained, as she pinned up Arabella’s hair. “Eliza said that Tabitha said that she heard Lady Treadgold say something to Miss Treadgold about biding their time and acting at night.”
