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Guy dug up some moss too. “What else did she say?”
“She told me I should tell you. That you would listen.”
He shoved away the memory of Arabella: remote, defiant, and refusing to confide in him.
“Listen to what?” he said. “Tell me.”
“I’m nineteen, and they say I must marry or I could end up on the shelf. But I don’t mind. I think the shelf would suit me nicely.”
Guy opened his mouth to argue, remembered that Arabella had promised he would listen, and paused as he tried to understand.
“But don’t you want a family?” he said. “I enjoyed the freedom of my adventures, but the last few years, I came to crave a proper home, a companion, a family…”
Freddie flicked the moss into the air. “In my experience, a family is nothing but a group of people telling me what to do. When I reach my majority, I’ll have enough money to do whatever I like.”
“The difference,” he ventured, “is that, when we reach our majority, we can shape our own family to fit with what we want.”
Her expression grew thoughtful, as she tilted her head to consider the sky. Guy wondered if he had actually managed to say the right thing.
As he had with Arabella the previous night. Yet with Arabella, it had not been enough.
“I’m leaving today,” he said. “Back to London and then to Roth Hall. Would you like to come with me?”
Freddie twisted so suddenly, he feared she might fall. “Yes! Please! I must get away from here.”
“Why? What have the Treadgolds done?”
“Oh, the Treadgolds are fine. I think I did something silly.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
Guy bit back his impatient reply. Freddie would talk when she was ready.
Then she slumped back against the window frame. “Sir Walter won’t let me go with you.”
Ah, but Sir Walter had been naughty and would face some trouble in Chancery, so…
“I think I’ll be able to persuade him,” Guy said.
“What about your wedding?”
“Everything is under control.”
Nothing was under control. Not for him, anyway. Arabella had everything under control. She had a plan. She had Hadrian Bell. She didn’t need him.
“Do you mean, I could live with you?” Freddie asked.
“If you want. Ursula too, if I can arrange it.”
She considered. “I’d miss Matilda. Perhaps she could live with us too.”
Perhaps Guy would give in and just marry Miss Treadgold. She was pleasant and undemanding. He wouldn’t get bored. Hewouldn’t. It would be peaceful. Peaceful was good. Life with Arabella would never be peaceful.
It would never be boring either.
He stood and extended a hand to Freddie. “Come on, then,” he said, and she put her hand in his and said, “Let’s go.”
