Chapter Four
Arabella sucked in a breath as butterflies took up residence in her stomach at Clarendon’s softly murmured words. Tolerable? Up to now she’d found him barely tolerable. To think she was expected to marry a man who disagreed with everything she said. But, she had found him to be a true gentleman. It would have been an easy thing for him to explain the truth of their encounter in the library, which would not have been believed by anyone.
Rumors about her virtue—or lack thereof—would have spread, looks would have been cast in her direction, and she would have been ruined.
He had saved her from all that by announcing their betrothal. The moment he had looked down at her when Lord Ashbourne had demanded to know what was going on in his library, her heart had sped up. She’d waited for him to blame her for stumbling into his peace and quiet, and then, quite literally, falling into his arms.
Lord Clarendon had done no such thing. He’d explained away their situation by relinquishing the woman he had planned to marry. But Arabella had no intention of allowing the situation to go as far as the altar.
However, something about the way he looked at her now made it seem as though all the air in the carriage had suddenly vanished. His heavy-lidded eyes were a much deeper color, and a slight twist to his lips gave him a rakish look. She wondered what it would feel like to have those lips covering hers. Calling herself so much a fool, she answered, “Yes, my lord. I find you tolerable.” Drat, how breathless I sound.
Seeming satisfied with her answer, he nodded briefly. She took in a deep breath and ordered her body to behave itself. Within minutes the carriage rolled to a stop in front of her family’s residence. A townhouse that now belonged to an unknown, obscure relative who would be taking possession sometime later this year. Perhaps it had been her duty to marry quickly so as to provide security for her mother. But for Mother to set up the shenanigans tonight was beyond the pale.
Arabella took Clarendon’s hand after he alighted and turned to assist her. He appeared distracted, removed from the conversation they’d just had. As Tavers opened the front door, Clarendon spoke to the butler. “If Lady Melrose is receiving, I would request an audience with her.” He held out his card.
The well-trained butler never reacted to having her arrive with Lord Clarendon, nor his request to speak to her mother at this hour of the night. He merely accepted the card, bowed, and said, “I will have her ladyship’s maid inquire. If you will follow me, I will conduct you to the drawing room and send for refreshments.”
Clarendon waved his hand. “No need for refreshments. If her ladyship receives me, the encounter will not take long.” He glanced down at Arabella. “I will call upon you tomorrow. Plan to be ready for a ride in Hyde Park at five o’clock.”
She stiffened. “I beg your pardon, my lord. Perhaps I have other plans for tomorrow at five o’clock.”
Nash shrugged. “Cancel them.”
Oh, the man was insufferable. “Mayhap I do not wish to cancel them, my lord.”
He studied her for a minute, his arrogant eyebrow raised. Apparently, he’d never considered that she would not fall at his feet with glee at having a strong man order her about.
“I do not wish to make an issue of a simple request.”
She offered him a smile sweet enough to cause a toothache. “Ah, my lord, but ’twas not a simple request. It sounded more like a demand.”
They glared at each other.
Realizing that Tavers stood patiently while they had this exchange, and somewhat embarrassed at having the servant witness her impertinence, she tightened her jaw then offered a slight curtsy and headed up to her bedchamber, mumbling all the way.
If this was how he intended for them to go on, then he would be in for a surprise. She was no young, silly Lady Grace, who would gaze up at him adoringly, waiting longingly for commands and guidance through her life. Even though it was her mother who had inadvertently placed them both in a position that resulted in this fake betrothal, Arabella had no intention of assuming the demeanor of a swooning debutante, eyelashes batting. Until she could rid herself of the burden that was Lord Clarendon, she would make it clear he was not her lord and master.
She rang for Sophia and paced, wondering if Mother had granted Clarendon an audience and what had been said. Being the gentleman she’d found him to be, she doubted if he would insult Mother in any way. Hopefully, Mother would use her common sense and explain that jumping in with both feet to save her had been unnecessary.
Before Sophia had even arrived, Arabella heard the sound of a carriage door closing and wheels rolling on the cobblestones in front of the townhouse. Either his lordship had been correct, and what he needed to say was truly not very long, or Mother had refused to see him. In any event, the maneuverings Mother had set in play tonight had thrust Arabella into an untenable situation that needed correction, and fast.
The next morning, while Sophia fixed her hair, Arabella touched the puffy dark circles under her eyes with her fingertips. Based on what she saw in the mirror, a lie-down later would be necessary if she were to present herself to Clarendon for their carriage ride looking less like a hag than she did right now.
A slight knock at her door drew her from her thoughts. Mother entered, the first time she’d seen her since the debacle the prior evening. “Good morning, Arabella. I hope you slept well.”
Arabella didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Slept well? Hardly.
“As well as could be expected, I would think, under the circumstances.” Arabella glanced at Sophia in the mirror. “That is fine, Sophia. You may leave now.” The young maid curtsied and left the room.
Once the door closed, Mother went immediately on the defensive. “I am sorry for the mix-up last evening, but you must admit, Arabella, things have turned out rather well.”
Arabella spun around in her chair, her mouth agape. “Rather well? I am now betrothed to a man I hardly know, who was planning on offering for another lady, who probably hates me and will soon be spewing vitriol about my virtue. Which, no doubt, several people are already questioning.” Arabella stood and circled the room, slapping her fist into her palm. “Do you think I will go through with this farce? How could you do that, Mother? And Lord Pembroke?”
Mother raised her chin. “The situation had grown dire, Arabella.” She wrung her hands. “I received a letter yesterday from the new earl that his plans have changed and he will be back in England within the month. We have nowhere to go.”
She dropped her hands to her sides and stared at Arabella. “What do you mean ‘do I think you will go through with it?’”
“Just that. I have no intention of marrying Lord Clarendon. I can barely stand the man—although I did tell him he was tolerable—but I definitely do not want him for a husband.”
“You have no choice. If you do not marry him, you will be ruined. No one will offer for you. We will be tossed out into the streets.”
“Not so. The new earl has already said we were free to stay here and to also make use of the estate manor until I am settled.” They had discussed this very matter several times, and Arabella had no reason to believe her mother had softened her position.
“I will not live on another’s forbearance. Why, for all we know, he might have a wife and several children. I doubt very much if she would be happy with the arrangement.”
“You are jumping to conclusions with no merit. Furthermore, it appears to me your only consideration was worry for your own well-being. Did you, however, consider me and my wishes? I certainly would have preferred to spend the rest of my life with someone whose very presence does not cause my stomach to roil, as does Lord Pembroke.”
Her mother smirked. “Well, then it is a good thing Lord Clarendon had been in the library, because I doubt very much if you will find it difficult to sit across the table from him each morning. He is certainly not difficult to look at.”
This angered Arabella further. “Yes. And he is obnoxious, arrogant, high-handed, and overbearing.”
Mother tugged on the cuffs of her day gown, the gesture she always used to announce the subject under discussion was closed. “We have much to do before the wedding, Arabella.”
The wedding.
The memory of the scent of sandalwood and the feel of firm muscles under his clothing brought a slight kernel of excitement to her stomach. Although, as most young maidens, she knew very little of the marriage bed, she could imagine that what took place there would certainly be much more pleasant with him than Lord Pembroke and his fat, sausage fingers.
But pleasant bed activities were not enough of an enticement to persuade her to marry the man.
Arabella took in a sharp breath. “I intend to explain to his lordship on our ride this afternoon that marriage between the two of us is not well founded. I am sure he can be convinced, and there will be no need for a wedding. Things will return to normal, I will avoid Society for a while, and all will be well.”
Apparently ignoring Arabella’s stance on the wedding, Mother said, “Before we begin preparations for your nuptials, however, I would like to know why another foul and grubby dog is now taking up space in front of the fireplace in the kitchen, getting in Cook’s way.”
Arabella groaned inwardly. She’d forgotten about the poor, straggly animal that had followed her home the prior afternoon—hours before her life had changed forever. After a bath and a bit of food, he’d looked much better, and had licked her face until she’d laughed with glee. With her penchant for strays, and Miss Aphrodite now residing elsewhere, the household currently had in residence four dogs, two cats, and a bird with a damaged wing.
“You do know it is highly unlikely that Lord Clarendon will allow all of these creatures into his house.”
Why wouldn’t Mother listen to her? Lord Clarendon would have no say because he would not be her husband. “Another reason I need to get this all straightened out with him. I cannot abandon those animals. That would be cruel.”
“No, young lady, sensible is the word that fits. Furthermore, once you marry and move into his lordship’s house, I will have Tavers release the animals in the park.” Once again, she tugged on the gown’s cuff. “Now it is time to prepare for your wedding.”
If Arabella was considered stubborn, there was no doubt in her mind where she had picked up that particular trait. Mother was either deaf or pretending to be. To keep the peace, she would go along with her—for now. Once Lord Clarendon had come to his senses, life would return to normal.
A bit of fear nudged her. If life were to have any semblance of contentment for her, Clarendon simply must agree to cry off.
…
Nash sat very still as the solicitor explained Lady Arabella’s dowry, and why the amount had dwindled since it had first been set up. It appeared Lord Melrose had played fast and easy with his money. After that was gone he’d dipped first into the money set aside for his wife should he pre-decease her, and had then pilfered a chunk of his daughter’s dowry. Her original amount of three thousand pounds had been reduced to a little more than five hundred.
Five hundred! Rumor had it that Lady Grace’s dowry had been six thousand, and he’d depended on that to infuse some life into his estate. In addition to the lack of funds he now had available to him, most likely he would need to support his mother-in-law, since her portion was gone, and when the new heir returned, she would be without a home.
“I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, my lord. I had cautioned the late earl that things were becoming dire, but even during the year he’d been ill, he somehow managed to find ways to wager.” The solicitor tugged at his neckcloth.
“Tell me, Mr. Manson, how has Lady Melrose fared the year since his lordship died? The few times I’ve seen Lady Arabella, she seemed well turned out, and I assume they maintained their household and staff.”
The solicitor laid the pen he’d been fiddling with on the desk in front of him. “That is another reason Lady Arabella’s dowry is only five hundred. Once his lordship died, and against my advice, the trust fund passed into Lady Melrose’s name. Food, household supplies, staff salaries, and clothing have been paid from that fund. Lady Melrose continuously assured me that Lady Arabella would make a successful match and their money problems would be at an end.”
This was certainly a dilemma. While his situation was nowhere near as unfortunate as Lady Melrose and her daughter, he still needed to put some money into repairs on the Suffolk manor house. He also had plans to improve on the land so his tenants could produce more. The returns he’d been receiving from his steward had dwindled each year, much like his betrothed’s dowry, only he hadn’t been frittering the money away on gaming and other pursuits.
Well, there was nothing to be done for it. He would have to make do with what he had, and as soon as the blasted wedding was over, he would return to Suffolk and see if he could figure out how to make his estate more profitable.
After they worked out the contracts, Nash headed to White’s to cap off the meeting with a whiskey. Soon it would be time to pick up his betrothed for their carriage ride in Hyde Park. The two of them together would help squash any rumors that might have started about last evening. Although Lady Arabella had not been his chosen bride, nevertheless now she was, and he did not want his future countess’s reputation sullied.
He settled into a chair and signaled for a drink. He’d only taken a sip when Mr. Edmund Kilroy plopped himself into the seat across from him. The man had been an annoyance to Nash since their days at Eton. Never very popular with the other fellows, Kilroy tended to link up with whatever group was badgering a lone student. He joined the harassment, vicious at some points, always looking for praise from the group bully. One semester Nash had been the chosen one to be tortured. The following year, Kilroy had attempted to befriend him. He’d had no use for the man.
“Were I you, I am not sure I would be walking these halls. At least without sufficient protection.” Kilroy moved his mouth in a stupid grin. “You cost several men a great deal of money by switching brides last night.”
Not wishing to discuss the situation, especially with Kilroy, who was known for gossiping as much as the ladies, Nash grunted and took another sip of his drink.
“What happened, man? It was well known that you were all but leg-shackled to Lady Grace.”
Nash placed his now-empty glass on the small table alongside him. Since Kilroy had made his visit disagreeable by his presence, it was time he made his way home to prepare for his ride with Lady Arabella. He stood and glowered at the man. “Whom I choose to marry—not leg shackle—is my own, and the lady in question’s, business.”
“I hear you were forced to offer for her because her virtue was in question.” The odious man wiggled his eyebrows which gave rise to a swift surge of anger pulsing through Nash’s body.
He leaned down and placed his hand on Kilroy’s shoulder, pressing firmly enough that the man winced. “Should I hear any more comments from any source about my betrothed’s virtue or lack thereof, I will take it as a direct insult to me and personally seek you out and thrash you.” He squeezed harder. “Is there anything about that statement you find unclear?”
Kilroy shook his head.
“Good.” Nash straightened and strolled away, the slight altercation with Kilroy not assuaging the anger at the man’s comments. He still felt like thrashing someone.
Truthfully, part of his anger rose from his financial situation. The money he’d counted on would not be there, and he would have to work hard not to direct his anger toward his bride. Not that it was her fault, of course. The earl had left his wife and daughter in an untenable position. Lady Melrose had attempted to right their circumstances by marrying her daughter off to—from all accounts—a wealthy earl. Except her bumbling had resulted in her marrying off her daughter to the wrong earl.
He had no sooner handed his hat, gloves, and cane to his butler, Quinn, than his mother hurried down the stairs, her face flushed. “There you are, Nash. I have been waiting all morning and most of the afternoon to speak with you. Whatever happened at the Ashbourne ball last eve?”
Nash pinched the bridge of his nose. How did one tell one’s mother to please retire to her bedchamber to allow him time to compose his thoughts before he began a lengthy explanation of that which still confused him?
“If you will join me in the library, Mother, I will be happy to answer any of your questions.” He followed her down the corridor. Once they entered the library, he headed straight for the sideboard and poured himself another whiskey. “Would you care for a sherry?” When she shook her head, he added, “Tea?”
“No. What I would like are some answers.”
He settled into the soft leather chair behind his desk. “I assume from your demeanor that you’ve heard I became betrothed last night.” He took a long, slow swallow of the liquor.
“I did. However, not to the woman I assumed would be your chosen bride. Not Lady Grace, but Lady Arabella, the late Earl of Melrose’s daughter! I wasn’t even aware you two knew each other.”
“We did.” Deciding to keep to himself the fiasco in the park yesterday afternoon, he answered, “We danced a couple of times. She is also a friend of Eugenia’s. I’ve seen her several times at Devon’s townhouse.”
“And based on that scant contact you decide to spend the rest of your life with her?” His mother’s voice rose a couple of octaves.
He eyed her over the top of his glass. “Be careful, Mother. The decision as to whom I marry is mine alone.”
She waved her hand. “Of course, it is. I am not questioning your choice—”
“Aren’t you?”
Mother sighed. “All right, perhaps a bit, but I feel very confused. Although you hadn’t come out and said so, I was of the impression that you would be offering for Lady Grace.”
“The idea had crossed my mind.” He was reluctant to admit, even to his own mother, that he’d been duped into offering for the wrong girl. Although, most likely she had already been told the story of how they’d been discovered locked in an embrace in a dark library, in the middle of a ball.
“If you have been listening to well-meaning friends, I will attempt to explain as best I can. Lady Arabella came into the Ashbourne’s library during the ball, seeking her mother, from whom she had received a note. I was there to gain some quiet. When she determined her mother was not there, she turned to leave and stumbled. I caught her, and the door opened to several people taking in the scene.”
Mother sniffed. “Well, that certainly sounds as though the girl set it up.”
Nash stiffened. Not even from his mother would he accept criticism of his betrothed. “No, she did not. She was as shocked and dismayed at being discovered in there as I was.” He stood and walked around the desk, resting his hip on the edge. “I did the only thing I could to avoid her complete ruination and offered for her. It is done. She will be my countess, and I expect everyone to accept her as such. I will take her driving this afternoon so the entire world can see that we are both happy.”
“Are you?”
“What?”
“Happy?”
Was marriage a place where one looked for happiness? All he had been searching for was a woman to be his countess, run his household, and rear his children. He’d had no desire for romance, love, or the elusive “happiness,” though contentment did rank high on his list.
Now, without the funds Lady Grace would have brought, contentment might be a dream he needed to chase for a while. So far, he had kept their precarious situation to himself, and Mother’s lack of knowledge in that regard would remain that way. There was no reason to burden her with that information.
But to appease the woman who had birthed and raised him, he would give her the answer she hoped to hear. “Yes, Mother. I am happy.”