“The very same.” Arabella covered her face with her hands. “I knew something like this would happen. I just knew it. Who else would it be? My father is friends with a worthy Duke of considerable fortune, and that Duke has a son. Ofcourseit would be Henry!”
Cassie put a hesitant hand upon Arabella’s forearm. “It mightn’t be so bad, Milady. He might’ve grown into a handsome man who knows how to comb his hair and how to use a handkerchief instead of his hand.” She stifled a chuckle, likely knowing this was not the time for laughter. “And you’ve a shared history, Milady. At least you’ll have things to talk about.”
“Like how he used to put those sticky weeds on my back, steal my ribbons to get me in trouble, pinch my cheeks when no one was looking, and tear out the last few pages of my new books so I would not know the ending?” Arabella shot back, remembering how much she had loathed it when the Finch family came to the Bowles Estate. All of it was coming back in a rush, bringing out the still-bitter girl in her.
Cassie grimaced. “They say that if a lad likes you, he’ll do all he can to annoy the living daylights out of you. I know that’s true among the local lads—mercy, I can’t count the times I’ve had my hair pulled or an apple has soared past my face, only for the lad to confess he’d like to court me. Maybe that means there’ll be a spark between you, now the two of you are grown.”
Arabella did not like the sound of such a bizarre courtship ritual. It sounded barbaric and primordial, not the way ladies and gentlemen ought to behave. Then again, there would be no courtship for her, barbaric or otherwise. If the engagement had already been arranged, there would only be formalities—the banns, invitations to friends and acquaintances, and perhaps a meeting or two with her future husband before the wedding day came.
Will that make it easier?
“I suppose, if we do not care for each other, he will continue on as he has been doing,” Arabella mused aloud, picking at an embroidered daisy on the top coverlet.
Cassie tilted her head to one side. “What do you mean by that, Milady?”
“He is, apparently, my brother’s constant shadow in London.” Arabella fixed her friend and lady’s maid with a pointed look and whispered, “Gentlemen’s clubs, public houses, and gambling halls are the order of the day, I imagine.”
Cassie gave an understanding nod. “Ah.”
“Still, at least I will not have to see him, if he is determined to spend his time in London with Seth. I can pretend, for a while longer, that none of this is happening.” Arabella twisted around onto her back and gazed up at the square of mosaic in the ceiling overhead. It displayed a scene of a unicorn, dipping its horn into a poisoned pool to cleanse the water, so all the woodland creatures could drink.
Cassie cleared her throat. “Actually, Milady, that’s not exactly true.”
“Pardon?” Arabella craned her head back, almost pulling a muscle in her neck.
“I had instructions to dress you for a ball tonight.” Cassie bowed her head, looking sheepish.
Arabella’s stomach churned. “A ball? What ball? I know of no ball.”
“I thought you’d been told, Milady. Please, forgive me.” Cassie wrung her hands. “It’s being held at the Earl of Chisholm’s estate. The first ball of the summer… and I suspect you’ll find a certain guest there.”
Arabella slunk back onto her belly like a chastened cat. “What makes you say that?”
“I mentioned to Her Grace that I’d discuss gowns with you, but she told me not to. She said she’d commissioned the ideal gown and wanted to surprise you.” Cassie seemed close to tears, rocking slightly. “I’m so sorry, Milady. I kept it quiet because I thought it was a gift. If I’d known it was for another purpose, I’d have told you. You know I would’ve done.”
Arabella unleashed an agonized groan and buried her face in the bed. Knowing her mother, Arabella was to be gussied up like a gaudy peacock, so no one would have any choice but to notice her. And no one would have any choice but to realize thatshewas the betrothed of Henry Finch. Her mother would make sure the entire ball was aware and bask in the congratulations.
Tonight, regardless of her wishes, Arabella would meet again with her childhood tormentor—the man who would be her husband, whether she wanted him or not.
What if he does not want me, either?
She had not thought of that. Either way, it was going to make for averyuncomfortable evening.
Chapter Two
“Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man.” Henry clinked his glass of brandy against that of Seth—the only son of the Duke of Bowles, and the Marquess of Milford in his own right—and chuckled to himself. They were seated, looking rather out of place, in the low-raftered, quaint interior of a country inn.
Seth arched a chiding eyebrow and sipped his own brandy. “You are not dying, Haskett.”
“Is marriage not the death of youth and liberty, Dear Milford?” Henry quipped, taking in another mouthful of the potent, brown liquor. He let it warm his belly despite the ferocious heat of the outside, wafting through the door every time it opened and closed.
Seth tutted. “You are betrothed to my sister, not some awful, screeching creature who has been spoiled to within an inch of her life, and I shan’t have you speak of Arabella as though she were a burden upon you. She is sweet, kind, and fiercely loyal. Indeed, if you were not my friend, I daresay I would deem you unworthy of her merits.”
“What ofmymerits?” Henry tossed back, a little insulted by his friend’s remarks. “Am I not a righteous catch?”
Seth’s expression softened. “Of course, Dear Haskett, but I have not been a good brother very often to my sister, and if I cannot remedy that now, when can I? I must ensure her happiness.” He paused, grinning. “Though, I am rather glad you have been selected. We have been as brothers for many years. It is only right that we should soon be brothers-in-law.”
Henry tried not to balk at the notion of marriage, and everything it entailed. Being the eldest son of a Duke, he had always known he would be called upon as a pawn in the chess game of Society. A family was only as good as the family they made ties with. It had only been a matter of time before marriage was expected of him but, at six-and-twenty, he had hoped he might have another year or two.
