“Him! Lord Haskett!” Cassie pretended to fan herself. “He might be the most handsome gentleman I have ever seen. Why didn’t you say? I was expecting a grubby thing with unruly hair and a bad attitude, and you bring me into the house of a… beautiful, beautiful creature with a smile that could warm the frostiest of hearts!”
Puzzled, Arabella sat back. “You think him endearing?”
“Have we met the same gentleman?” Cassie tugged excitedly on her mistress’s arm. “You would have to be mad not to find him endearing! And you make such an attractive pair. Everyone will envy you both.”
Arabella sighed. “You remember why we are really here, do you not?”
“What?”
“I am here to pursue a marriage of love, not wed the man my mother and father have foisted upon me,” Arabella said.
Cassie hesitated. “Yes, right. Of course you are.” She smacked her forehead. “I’d forgotten… but, are you sure you wouldn’t like to do as you said, and court him instead?”
“Quite sure.” After dancing in Lord Powell’s charming presence and feeling her heart flutter in a way that she had only felt from her romance novels, she knew what she desired. Or, rather, whom.
And it was not Henry, a man who had almost poured a brandy at ten o’clock in the morning.
Cassie shrugged. “Well, you can tell me to be quiet, but I think you’re missing something here. He’s handsome, he’s wealthy, he’s kind to servants, opening his own doors, and offering me a drink though he could’ve ignored me like most fine gentlemen do.” She paused, suddenly solemn. “No man is perfect, Milady, and if you’re waiting for one of those heroes from your novels, you’re going to be disappointed.”
Arabella fell silent, for what could she say to that?
Chapter Seven
Though the sun was not yet at its highest, a balmy heat blanketed the sloping lawns, swaying trees, and perspiring individuals who had sought to spend the afternoon at Hyde Park. Ladies with parasols strolled across the network of pathways that cut through the greenery, accompanied by chaperones, mothers, or husbands. There were riders, too, stretching the long, muscular limbs of their horses as they raced across the grass, though Henry knew this was nothing but pageantry on all fronts.
“Must it be so terribly hot?” Seth fanned himself with his hand, prompting Arabella to step in with her silk fan to bring a breeze to her brother’s face.
Henry smiled at the small gesture. “As your sister once said to me, itisJuly.”
“I will cherish the autumn when it comes.” Seth wandered away to a nearby bench and sank down onto it, as if he might melt at any moment.
Arabella gave her brother a knowing look. “You will not. You will complain about being too cold, and how your nails are turning blue. Then, you will plead for the summer to come around again.”
“Spring, then.” Seth chuckled and closed his eyes, tilting his head up to the baking sunshine.
It had been Henry’s suggestion that they come here, to make the most of Arabella’s visit to London. Seth had taken a long while dragging himself from the chambers he had commandeered as his own, and taken longer still to dress and ready himself, but now that they were out in the fresh air, it was worth the effort.
“Are you not suffering?” Arabella looked to Henry.
He touched the back of his hand to his brow. “I am not yet dripping, and my garments are not yet sticking, so I should say I have another hour before I start to complain as your brother is doing. Maybe more if we seek some shade.”
“Go on. I will be along once I have found the will to move my legs again,” Seth instructed. Henry had not yet informed him of the ruse. Instead, he had mentioned that he might like to entertain Arabella throughout the summer, to get better acquainted. Seth had been more enthusiastic than Henry had expected, making him feel somewhat remorseful about lying through omission.
Henry offered his arm to Arabella. “How is your chaperone faring?” He glanced back toward the petite young woman wielding a parasol as if it were a spade hoisted over her shoulder and staring at the verdant sights of the park.
“She is having a grand time,” Arabella assured him, with a strange smile. “Forgive me, but I would not have expected you to care.”
He furrowed his brow. “Whyever not? She is a person, is she not, just as Mrs. Robbins and the rest of my staff are people. If they are not content, they will resent their work, and that can be rather concerning when it comes to the kitchens. I do not want anyone spitting in my luncheon because I have spoken harshly for no reason.”
“I thought that was your forte?”
He laughed tightly. “You mean the ball, of course? That was… unfortunate. I do not lose my temper often, and I would blame the brandy if I thought you would believe me. Your brother and I drank more than we ought to have done, prior to our arrival, but there is averyhappy innkeeper with well-lined pockets.”
“They say you can garner the true measure of a man by how he acts when he has imbibed.” Arabella’s hand rested loosely upon his forearm.
“It can also bring out the worst of a man—the side of his nature that is not really who he is, but a temporary… monster of sorts,” Henry explained. Surely, at twenty, she had experienced some uncharacteristic giddiness or tearfulness after drinking too much wine at dinner?
Arabella cast him a sideways glance. “I confess, you do not seem as monstrous in the light of day. Is it a nocturnal transformation?”
