Chapter Three
Black dots danced before Arabella’s eyes right before she shook her head, refusing to allow herself the luxury of swooning. She had no idea what was going on, but knew she needed her full faculties to avoid the pending disaster.
“Mother!” She moved away from Lord Clarendon and took a few steps. She raised her fingertips to her forehead, as once again, dizziness overcame her. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her from tumbling to the floor. “I received a note—”
“Say no more!” Her mother raised her hand in the air. She turned to Lord Clarendon. “My lord, unhand my daughter.”
“I would be most happy to accommodate your request, madam, but if I do so, I can guarantee she will slip to the floor.” Arabella felt his voice vibrate right through their clothing. His scent of sandalwood drifted to her where their bodies touched. With his arm still around her waist, he led her to the settee. She sat, still confused as to what was going on. Clarendon remained standing, his feet apart, hands loosely fisted at his side, facing the crowd.
He glanced at her and bent to whisper into her ear. “Perhaps you should lower your head, my lady.”
“Do not whisper in my daughter’s ear.” Mother’s eyes snapped.
Arabella tried to make sense out of what was happening. Mother was supposed to meet her here, which she did, but only after she’d been caught with Lord Clarendon. Was he supposed to be here as well? Had Mother done something to arrange all of this? But why Lord Clarendon, of all people? As far as Mother knew, they were barely acquainted.
Lord Ashbourne made his way through the crowd and circled the room, lighting candles and bringing into focus what Arabella desperately wished to block from her vision. Mother stood at the forefront, with Ladies Beauchamp and Dickinson, along with Mrs. Humphries, next to her. They all stared at her and Lord Clarendon in horror.
Another woman and a young girl joined them. The two came into view and Arabella let out a groan, wishing it were possible to close off one’s ears.
“My lord!” A wail erupted from Lady Grace. Her hand covered her mouth while she took in the scene. Closing her eyes, Lady Grace leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. Lord Clarendon mumbled to himself, but Arabella didn’t hear the comment. However, given the rumors of the expectations Lady Grace had where Lord Clarendon was concerned, he’d probably uttered words she did not want to hear.
Lady Grace’s mother speared Clarendon with a look that Arabella was most grateful hadn’t been cast in her direction.
Then it was.
She gulped.
“Lady Melrose, I received a note—” A nasally voice joined the group.
Mother spun on her heel and faced Lord Pembroke, who was breathing heavily and wiping the sweat from his forehead while he pushed his way through the crowd. “I wasn’t sure which room was the library—”
“Not now, my lord,” she said through gritted teeth.
Lord Pembroke? Mother had sent notes to both her and Lord Pembroke? Most likely to have them caught in a compromising situation. She never would have thought Mother would do such a thing, but there seemed no other explanation for the events that had just taken place.
Except Clarendon had been here—for whatever reason—and now this was a mess, and she was ruined.
“Since this is my library, can someone please explain to me what is going on?” Lord Ashbourne glared in Clarendon’s direction.
Clarendon looked down at Arabella as she watched him. Visions of her life as a ruined woman, with nowhere to go to avoid censure and no hope of the life she’d always dreamed of, flashed in her mind. She and Mother would have no home, and the disgrace would most likely send the woman into a decline.
She held her breath as he continued to study her. A slight kernel of absolute terror settled in her stomach. Certainly, the man would not make this situation worse by offering for her? There must be other, more palatable solutions to this catastrophe. They just needed to keep their heads and think it through.
Seeming to reach a decision, he extended his hand. Not knowing what he was up to, but hoping he had a way to get them out of this without creating a disaster, she reached for his hand and stood on shaky legs. Her heart pounded so hard she swore they heard it out in the ballroom. She was aware of the stillness of the guests who watched them, and the whimpering of Lady Grace.
His lordship continued to stare at her as he took her other hand in his and spoke, “I apologize to all of you for the interruption in your evening’s entertainment. I believe you have found us just as Lady Arabella made me the happiest of men by accepting my offer of marriage.”
Lady Grace wailed and tumbled to the floor. The blackness Arabella had been fighting finally took control, and with a soft sigh she slumped against her newly betrothed’s body.
…
Nash looked aghast at the two women. One lying on the floor at her mother’s feet, the other in his arms. Since he’d already offered for Lady Arabella in order to avoid her ruination, he bent, and sliding his hands under her knees, picked her up.
She was light as a feather, and the simple scent of lemons and lavender drifted from her. Her soft curves nestled against his body, but all he wanted to do was drop her on the nearest settee and run for his life. The marriage he had planned with Lady Grace—whose mother was reviving her by waving a vinaigrette under her nose—was no longer to be.
Damn it all to hell! Here he’d been, moments away from offering for Lady Grace, and now he found himself betrothed to Lady Arabella, of all people! A woman who rescued cats! Cats! He would be sneezing for the rest of his life.
Unless he was arguing with her.
Based on the look of longing on Pembroke’s face, Lady Melrose had set this up for him. He couldn’t help but wonder if Arabella had been involved as well, although given her response thus far, it was unlikely she’d been a part of the scheme.
No doubt Pembroke had been the desired target of Lady Melrose’s ploy. The man looked dumbfounded at Lady Arabella, disappointment plainly written on his fleshy, sweating face. Nash surmised the man had been the mother’s choice, but given the setup, Pembroke had apparently not been Lady Arabella’s choice. Then, again, he hadn’t been her choice, either. Nevertheless, now they were engaged.
He laid her on the settee and tapped her gently on her cheek.
“It appears there is nothing further to deal with tonight,” Lord Ashbourne spoke with authority as he began to usher the crowd from the room.
“I will not leave my defenseless, unconscious daughter here with this man.” Lady Melrose sniffed.
Just then Lady Arabella began to move and her eyelids fluttered open. She took a look around the room and with a slight moan, closed her eyes again.
“Madam, your daughter is now in the hands of her betrothed. I suggest we all leave and allow her to recover.” Ashbourne studied Nash. “I assume you are prepared to meet with Lady Melrose’s representatives in the morning?”
“Yes. Of course.” Nash turned to Lady Melrose. “With whom must I speak?” Nash knew Lord Melrose had passed some time ago. Rumor had it that his heir was out of the country and would soon be taking up residence at the Melrose estate.
“Since there is no guardian, you may contact my solicitors.” She eyed her daughter, who was attempting to gain her feet. “I will send for my carriage so I can take her home.”
Nash took Lady Arabella’s arm and steadied her as she stood. “No, my lady. I would prefer to accompany my betrothed home.” He gritted his teeth at those words, cursing his upbringing that refused to allow him to be part of a woman’s ruination. “I will send for my carriage.”
“But—” Lady Melrose looked alarmed. Did she believe he would actually harm Lady Arabella? But then, how well did she know him? Still very much annoyed at the woman’s machinations, he felt a need to punish her a bit.
“You may return in your carriage, madam. I will see Lady Arabella home.” His voice gave no quarter.
The woman blew out a deep breath of air. “As you wish, my lord.” She turned, and giving Lady Arabella one last glance, left the room.
As the last of the witnesses passed thorough the doorway, Lord Ashbourne followed them. He stopped for a moment and studied Nash and Lady Arabella. “I have no idea what went on here tonight, but I commend you for doing the right thing, young man. I have a feeling you are as befuddled as I am.”
Nash gave his host a slight bow. “Thank you, sir. Would you be so kind as to have my carriage brought around? I would like to give Lady Arabella a bit more time to compose herself.”
“I will do that, but please leave the door open. We don’t need things to get any worse than they are right now.” Once he walked away, Nash turned to Lady Arabella, his voice lowered. “The only thing keeping me from wringing your neck is a slight belief that you had no part in the debacle this evening.”
She shook her head furiously. “Absolutely not. I would never put myself in this positon on purpose. However, please be aware that your gallant overture will be for naught. I have no intention of marrying you.”
He placed his hands on his hips and glared at her. “Excuse me? Do you think I wish to marry you? A woman who chases animals in public?”
She sniffed. “Good, then we are in agreement. We will go our separate ways, since I don’t give a tinker’s damn for Society’s opinions.” Lady Arabella licked her lips. Kissable lips, he noted for the first time. Soft, plump, and red. She continued, “’Tis an easy problem to solve. We can wait a while to keep all the gossip lovers happy, then I will cry off.”
…
Arabella still felt a bit lightheaded, but she wanted more than anything to escape this horrid room and go home. Lock herself in her bedchamber and not emerge until she was as old as the Widow Johnson. What a mess this had become!
“You little fool.” Lord Clarendon snapped. “Do you honestly believe crying off an engagement would restore your reputation? Especially after being caught in my arms in a dark room? By ourselves? Do you think it can get any worse than that? Well, it can. If you call off, your reputation will be in shreds.”
Despite her flip words, she was no half-wit about Society’s condemnation. But she had never wanted to have Polite Society dictate how she lived. However, she would not concede this point to him. “I don’t care one whit about my reputation.”
Another raised eyebrow. “Obviously not, given your behavior thus far.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Do you truly wish to resume our discussion from before? Your behavior in the park was beyond the pale for a young lady. Racing around, your skirts hiked above your ankles, chasing a cat.”
She pointed her finger at his chest. “This is precisely why I do not want you to rescue me by pretending we are engaged. You disapprove of me, I find you arrogant, and a marriage between us would likely lead to one of us swinging from the end of a rope.”
As she stared into his surprised eyes, she had another thought. Had he planned an assignation with Lady Grace? An ill-timed meet-up that had gone awry by her own mother’s maneuvers? “What were you doing in here, Clarendon?”
He raised his eyebrows. “I am suffering from the residue of a megrim due to an encounter in the park this afternoon with a feline.” Apparently pausing to allow that comment to take hold, he added, “I merely came in here to gather my thoughts and have a few minutes of peace and quiet. And we now know how that turned out.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What brought you here? Were you following me?”
“Following you? I can assure you I would have no reason to follow you anywhere.” She held up the note Cynthia had handed her. “I received a note from my mother asking me to attend her here. It now appears to me she planned for Lord Pembroke to find me, alone, with perhaps the same ending in mind in which we now find ourselves.”
“Had you wanted to marry Pembroke?”
Her head snapped back, and her eyes grew wide. “Lord, no.”
For the first time all evening, Lord Clarendon smiled. Which, in turn, brought a smile to her face, as well.
“Come. It is time I escorted you home.” He took her elbow and walked toward the door.
She stopped as they reached the portal. “No doubt everyone beyond that door will be leaping for joy at my supposed disgrace.”
“Buck up, Lady Arabella,” he whispered as he tightened his grip and moved her forward. “This is only the beginning.”
With his words echoing in her ears, he escorted her out of the library, down the corridor, and to the front door. Whispers floated from behind cupped hands, eyes peered over the tops of fans, and knowing smirks covered the faces of many of the men.
Arabella had never been so embarrassed in her life. Although, due to her odd propensities, she’d never been a favorite of the ton, she had at least enjoyed a somewhat respectable reputation. Oftentimes she thought, were she not an earl’s daughter, she would not be welcomed into some homes. After all, dignified ladies of the ton did not rescue animals.
Now her mother had placed her in a position that could very well take years to overcome. To say nothing of the fact that she found herself engaged to a man she barely knew, and didn’t even like. Add to the mess that Lord Clarendon had been about to offer for another, and the entire matter was a catastrophe.
She was sure that once he had time to think it over, he would come to the sane realization that they should not marry each other.
He assisted her into her pelisse and then held her elbow as they made their way down the steps to his carriage. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why he was being so gracious when she was more than willing to give him a way out. Their encounters had left her with the firm belief that he was no happier with her than she was with him. Though she had some knowledge of him through her friendship with his sister, Eugenia, who was quite fond of her brother. And Eugenia found him tolerable. At least he was honorable—to a fault, it seemed.
He had been gentlemanly enough to rescue Miss Aphrodite…grudgingly. It was a far cry from rescuing her from her mother’s machinations. Especially since it meant spending the rest of their lives together.
There was also the multitude of young ladies who would be crying into their often-dropped handkerchiefs now that Lord Clarendon was off the marriage mart. If she could not convince him to stop this foolishness, the darling of the ton would be her husband.
Her husband.
Oh lord, Mother, what have you done?
…
Nash handed Lady Arabella into his carriage and climbed in behind her. She huddled in the corner, facing the window. He took the opportunity to study her in the scant light. Certainly not difficult to look at, as he’d noted before. Of course, that was when she’d merely been a pest with odd habits and not his intended bride. She had an acceptable figure underneath her gown. A form he’d noticed even more so when he’d picked her up. Her warm, soft curves had fit nicely against him.
Her skin was creamy, her lips lush and full. He would certainly not find bedding her a chore. But there was more to marriage than a romp between the sheets. She had to be able to handle his household and maneuver them among Society—accepting and rejecting invitations. She needed to plan and preside over dinner parties, garden parties, and balls. One day she would have to guide their children from childhood to adulthood.
Although he knew very little of her, he assumed she’d been trained by her governesses and tutors in all the appropriate competencies. No doubt she played the pianoforte well, stitched a lovely needlepoint, and produced acceptable watercolors. She was probably fluid in French, and perhaps German. Much like he’d found Lady Grace to be.
But the animals. That would be a problem, especially since he could not be near a cat without a sneezing fit. Well, that was something she would have to leave behind. As well as her stubborn nature. Once they married, he would be the one to make the decisions for the both of them. After all, when he’d awoken this morning, he’d had no intention of proposing marriage to Lady Arabella. But, if he put aside their recent unpleasant encounters, she would probably do as well as Lady Grace in the role of his countess.
It startled him to realize the two women were interchangeable. He had no great love or passion for Lady Grace. She had seemed an acceptable bride. And, of course, there had been her dowry.
Which left him with the question of Lady Arabella’s dowry, something he was sure to discover when he met with her solicitor. “Why is it you have no guardian?” The question popped out before he even thought about it.
A surprised Lady Arabella, no doubt deep in her own thoughts about the upcoming nuptials, faced him. “I had reached my majority when my papa passed last year.”
“You are two and twenty, then?”
“Yes. Papa was ill for more than two years before his passing. We were unable to travel to Town. Then with the mourning period after he died, I was already a few years older than the other girls the year I came out.” She raised her chin. “Do you have a problem with my age, my lord?”
God almighty, the girl seemed ready to begin an argument over anything he said.
“No. I was merely asking.” He studied her. “Do you take offense at every comment?”
“It depends on who is making the comment. Most of yours seem to be insulting.”
He sighed. “I meant no insult by asking why you have no guardian. However, I am finished with disagreements for the evening.” He settled back in the carriage. Given Lady Arabella’s age, that would explain why she seemed so sure of what she wanted and did not want. Unfortunately, she needed to realize that in the matter of their betrothal, they had no choice. In addition to her reputation, his would be tarnished, as well. A gentleman who was caught in a dark room, unchaperoned, with a young lady, was expected to step up and marry her. Whether that made sense or not was a moot point. It was the way of things in their world.
As the carriage rumbled through the streets of Mayfair, his thoughts wandered to Lady Grace. He’d planned on having to guide her into her new role as his wife. At eighteen years, she was young, and had shown signs of immaturity that he knew he’d have to deal with.
Truth be told, her constant chattering about nonsense had grated on his nerves more than once. On carriage rides and walks in the garden, he’d attempted to have more meaningful conversations with her. However, she had merely gazed at him with adoration and a bit of confusion. Hair ribbons, her wardrobe, hairstyles, and the latest gossip seemed to be their entire repartee when he was with her. Maybe having an older bride would suit him more.
That again left him with the odd, uncomfortable sense of the two women being transposable. An unnerving feeling, for sure. Had he not any attachment whatsoever to Lady Grace? Not that he’d intended to ever suffer the pangs of love and romance as Wentworth had, of course. Not for him the wrenching emotions of love that led to hurt feelings and messy botherations.
He focused his attention once more on Lady Arabella. “Since you did not wish to marry Pembroke, is there another you had hoped would offer?”
That was probably not a very gentlemanly question to ask, but nevertheless, he found he really wanted to know the answer. Would she be pining for someone else when he came to her bed?
“No, I have not been out in Society long enough to acquire a tendre.”
He noted the sharpness of her voice. Was this a young lady who was not ready to accept the constraints of marriage? Hopefully, that would not cause him immense trouble. “I must admit surprise that a beautiful woman such as yourself has received no offers.”
She turned and gave him a tight smile. “I did not say no offers. Merely that there was no one from whom I wished to receive an offer.”
“Ah. So, there have been offers you’ve turned down?”
“Yes.”
Now it made sense. Apparently, the young lady was being too particular, and her mama had decided to take matters into her own hands. “I take it Pembroke was the latest of your refusals?”
She nodded. “Although I never gave him the opportunity to actually propose.” She shuddered. “I suppose, if things had gone the way Mother had planned, I would be faced with the dilemma of Pembroke’s proposal.” She turned to him, the earnestness of her words clearly written on her face. “I certainly don’t desire love in my marriage, my lord, but I would like to be able to tolerate the man I marry.”
“Indeed.” His eyebrows rose. “And it seems I will now be that man.” He leaned forward, gazing into her hazel eyes, made visible through the carriage lamp on the wall beside her head.
“So, tell me, Lady Arabella. Do you find me tolerable?”