That is why Milford’s words have clung on, and that is why I will not see you settle for me, Arabella. We are the same, but you have a chance to break free.
“Heavens, no.” He forced a chuckle. “Ask your brother. He will tell you the same thing. We sons of Dukes do not hold our lives and futures in our own hands.”
Arabella appeared confused. “Then I will help you to find your better match. If you cannot see the potential for love, I will mark it for you, so you do not miss it.”
“Like a folded page in a book?”
She nodded and cast him an irreverent smile. “Precisely, though I will not tear out the last pages, so you never discover the ending.”
“Ah… you remember that?” He grimaced, despising the boy he used to be. A very real monster, created by his father.
“How could I forget?” She elbowed him lightly in the ribs, and the sudden proximity disarmed him. True, they had been much closer when dancing the Viennese Waltz, but they had been made to dance. She had just nudged him of her own accord.
He opened his mouth to ask her which books he had damaged, so he might purchase them for her, and allow her to finally discover the endings. It was foolish, but the knock to his ribs made the kind gesture bubble up from his chest, working its way to his tongue. Before he could utter a word, however, another voice bellowed through the peaceful quiet of the park.
“Lady Arabella!”
Was that me? It did not sound like me.
Turning at the fast approach of footsteps crunching on the gravel path, all of Henry’s good will dissolved like honey in hot water. Lord Powell had come to ruin a perfectly lovely walk, just as he had ruined what might have been a perfectly lovely ball.
Chapter Eight
“What a pleasant surprise!” Arabella could not hide her delight as Lord Powell closed the gap between them. He took her hand gently and brought it to his lips, kissing the exact spot that Henry had kissed a few minutes ago. She wanted to warn him and offer her other hand, but his lips were already pressed to her glove.
Lord Powell beamed from ear to ear. “I am the one who is pleasantly surprised, Lady Arabella,” he insisted. “I did not know you were in London. Last I heard, you were being held in your ivory tower, surrounded by a moat and several dragons for courageous knights to battle in order to reach you.”
“You are too silly, Lord Powell.” She laughed shyly and batted him lightly on the hand as he drew it away. “There are no dragons, but there is a particularly loyal hound who might bite you if you do not arrive with a treat for him to gnaw on.”
Lord Powell nodded. “I shall have to bear that in mind for the day when Idovisit.”
Tongue-tied by his boldness, Arabella could not think of a single thing to say. On occasion, Lady Olivia called upon her at the Estate, but other visitors were few and far between… and none were as handsome as Lord Powell.
“That would be atmyestate in Somerset, I imagine, by invitation only,” Henry cut in, clearly still embittered by the events of the ball. “You have heard the news, have you not?”
Arabella shot him a dark look.What is the meaning of this, Henry? You are supposed to be encouraging such possibilities, not quashing them!
Unfazed, Lord Powell flicked a stray leaf from his shoulder. “I heard gossip, but I never pay such things any heed. Besides, are two friends forbidden from seeing one another?”
“Friends. That is rich,” she heard Henry grumble under his breath.
“I apologize; I did not quite hear that.” Lord Powell waited for the repetition that did not come, while Arabella beckoned for Cassie to come to her. The lady’s maid rushed up and began fanning her mistress’s fiercely hot face, understanding the situation without any need for a hushed explanation.
Henry squared his shoulders. “I said, ‘Friends. How nice.’ You ought to clean out your ears. I can recommend a physician who will have you hearing like you were a decade younger. What would that make you? Thirty, thirty-five?”
“There are but four years between us, as you well know.” Lord Powell smiled coolly. “However, you have never once deigned to respect your elder.”
Henry nodded. “Station comes before age, my good man.”
“Must we do this again?” Lord Powell sighed, and Arabella could not have agreed more.
Henry put up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “Not at all. I did not realize we were doing ‘this,’ whatever ‘this’ may be. I merely mistook your words for candid repartee and returned in kind. My apologies if that was not your intention.”
“My apologies for thinking it was anything but,” Lord Powell replied, though it was obvious he did not believe a word Henry said. Nor did Arabella. In truth, she was not quite sure what had come over him. Had he not just said that he wanted her to find happiness?
At that moment, Cassie came to the rescue by rising up on tiptoe and whispering something into Arabella’s ear. The latter gave the faintest nod to show she had understood, before she began what might have been her greatest performance.
It started with a light fanning of her face and gentle sway in her body. Next, she added slow, deliberate blinks, as though she was struggling to see clearly. Short, sharp breaths followed, which threatened to turn the fabrication into a reality for her lungs did not care for the quickness.
