He tackled the man to the ground and heard a wheeze as the fellow hit the hard stone of the plinth beneath the window. A moment later, the man fought back, his hood smothering the entirety of his face as he blindly grappled at Henry, until they were tussling wildly, rolling off the lip of the plinth and onto the spiky gravel.
Determined to gain the upper hand, Henry managed to wrestle his way on top of the cloaked figure and prod his knee into the fellow’s chest. Not a moment later, the man lurched upward with surprising power, his forehead connecting with Henry’s in a dizzying blow that sent him sprawling backward.
Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps, crunching across the gravel, drifted into Henry’s dazed senses.
“Stop! My goodness, stop!” Arabella cried.
Henry blinked at her, his eyes somewhat blurry. “I was… protecting you, Arabella,” he panted. “This man was… staring in at the… drawing room window.”
“I was notstaring. I was trying to gain Lady Arabella’s attention,” a familiar voice growled, as the cloaked man’s hand swept back his hood to reveal an equally familiar face.
Henry’s mouth fell open. “Ah.”
“What were you thinking?” Arabella paused beside the two men, though it was unclear whom she was speaking to. Nevertheless, Henry felt certain she would tend to him first.
“It was an honest mistake, Arabella,” Henry tried to say, as her hand reached for Lord Powell’s arm and helped him to his feet. Bypassing Henry completely.
Putting a bold arm around Lord Powell’s waist, so he might lean upon her, Arabella cast Henry a look of utter disappointment. “You should not have done that, Henry. Look at him!” She peered up at Lord Powell, who had blood trickling from his nose. “There was no danger.”
“How was I to know that?” Henry gaped in disbelief.
Arabella shook her head. “You might have called out and had him turn, so you would know he was no threat. Or do you always choose violence before common sense?”
Henry could not deny she had a valid argument.
“We ought to get you inside, Lord Powell.” Arabella began to lead the man away, but not before glancing back at Henry. “I will contend with you later. Go to the gardens, so I know where to find you.”
Henry stood up and dusted off the seat of his trousers, feeling like he had been scolded by his mother and sent to his chambers without any supper. As he watched the pair head toward the house, he could not even think of the pain in his jaw, for there was a far greater pain, stabbing at his heart. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. A physical agony, brought on by the disappointed expression upon Arabella’s face.
However, the worst was yet to come, for as the pair mounted the porch steps, Lord Powell flashed a wink and an amused smirk in Henry’s direction, as if to say, “It seems I won that one, Lord Haskett.”
Shamefaced, and brimming with anger at Lord Powell’s haughty look, Henry whistled for his horse. As the steed walked toward him, Henry’s heart took another savage blow, for there on the ground, trampled to fragrant fragments, were the bouquets he had spent so much care in picking.
Chapter Eighteen
“Ido apologize for startling you, Lady Arabella,” Lord Powell said, wincing as Arabella dabbed a sodden cloth to his injured nose. “I saw you from afar, sitting in the drawing room, and thought I would announce my arrival in a more direct manner. It was foolish of me.”
Arabella forced a smile. “I cannot deny that, Lord Powell.” She tutted quietly. “I am afraid that might bruise. Goodness, what was he thinking, attacking you like that?”
“You know what he is like, Lady Arabella,” Lord Powell replied solemnly. “Or, perhaps you do not.”
She soaked the cloth in the basin of water at her side, which had turned slightly pink, and wrung it out before raising it once more to Lord Powell’s nose. “What do you mean?”
“He is a known brawler, Lady Arabella. I have seen him banned from several gentlemen’s clubs for his brutish behavior, and I am sure there are many more instances that have been covered up,” Lord Powell explained. “It is easy to make such things go away when you are as wealthy as Lord Haskett. Or, rather, when he has such a wealthy father.”
Arabella frowned, bringing Lord Powell’s hand up to hold the cloth in place. “Seth has never mentioned anything of that ilk. I find it unlikely that my brother would allow there to be a betrothal if he thought his dear friend was violent.”
His hands are not as beautiful as Henry’s.The thought made Arabella’s stomach roil with guilt. She had spoken harshly to Henry, without fully meaning to. It was merely the shock of the nasty event, and seeing the blood trickling from Lord Powell’s nose, that had brought such words onto her tongue.
“As you say, Lord Haskettisyour brother’s dear friend.” Lord Powell tilted his head back. “I imagine that has made your brother more forgiving of Lord Haskett’s less favorable qualities.”
Arabella sat back on her haunches, eyeing Lord Powell with curiosity. “I do not believe that, Lord Powell. My brother has made it very clear that he wishes me to be happy.” She sensed an ulterior motive behind Lord Powell’s unkind sentiments toward Henry. “He has not always been the best of brothers, but he is trying to remedy that. I do not think that would lend itself to seeing me wed to a brawler.”
“Wouldyou be happy with Lord Haskett?” Lord Powell’s voice softened, and he bowed his head.
It was the exact question Arabella had been asking herself since… she was not quite sure when. Although, she had an inkling it had begun after her discussion with Cassie in the gardens and finding the parcel of books waiting for her in the library. She had devoured as many as possible since receiving them, and every time she read the endings that had been stolen from her, she had whispered a soft, “Thank you,” to Henry.
All have been happy endings, thus far, but I am still waiting to see how my ending will fare.
