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T
he hairs on Arabella’s nape prickled as three pairs of eyes stared back at her. The strength and power the Duke of Whittington wielded filled the room, but his eyes were kind, as were those of his duchess. They both wore expressions of anticipation, for the time had come for her to explain her plight and subsequent flight.
“It all started on Christmas Eve night,” she said with halting words. Sitting before these three people with her hem wet and muddy—and without shoes!—while they were in glittery, well-tailored finery was an odd juxtaposition to be sure. “My father attended a rout at Lord Breckenridge’s home, which wasn’t out of the ordinary, for they’ve been friends for years.”
“When those two get together, I heavily doubt anything good would come from it,” the duke murmured with a glance at his son, Lord Bonham.
“Oh, indeed not,” Arabella said with a nod. When she leaned forward to refresh her teacup, the younger man was there before her. He waited upon her as if she were a visiting queen instead of a member of the gentry with a sad tale to her name. “Lord Breckenridge is a bad influence on Papa.” She accepted the cup from Lord Bonham, and as before, pleasant tingles danced up her arm to her elbow.
Had the same thing happened to him? She sipped the beverage. A tiny smile pulled at her lips, for he’d again included sugar and milk. It was a bit adorable.
While the duke explained to the duchess who Lord Breckenridge was and what sort of a man Arabella’s father was, she took the reprieve to surreptitiously study their youngest son.
Of average height and build, his expertly tailored dark evening clothes fit his frame to perfection. But it was the sharp cut of his jaw, his aristocratic features, and thick, full brown hair arranged into a popular style that combined to make him into the most handsome man she’d seen in some time. Every time he grinned, his eyes sparkled with a secret sort of mischievous adventure that sent flutters through her belly. She’d heard enough rumors while in London about this man to know he was thought of as a rogue and quite popular with all sorts of ladies. Yet, that wasn’t what she saw when she looked at him. What made him laugh or alternately cry? Did he have a favorite food? And more importantly, did he like animals?
Already, Moonbeam had found him acceptable... or she attempted to annoy him as she wound about his ankles and rubbed against his calves.
I hope that’s a good sign.
“Miss Holly?” The duke’s utterance yanked her back to the present and she darted her regard away from Lord Bonham. “Please continue your tale. The evening grows late.”
“Of course, Your Grace. Pardon my woolgathering.” She sighed, for her story was quite pathetic, really. “In any event, my father—who has never been a strong or skillful gambler—lost a hefty sum. From as much as I’ve managed to gather about the evening, Papa wished to save face, so he challenged Lord Breckenridge to another game. That one took place at our home on Christmas night.”
“Ah. I believe I can discern what occurred next.” The duke’s frown was rather fierce. “A man who craves his vices over taking care of his family is the worst sort.”
“Whittington, hush,” the duchess admonished in a soft voice. “Obviously, the young woman is shaken. She doesn’t want to hear what she already knows.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Heat slapped at her cheeks. She took a sip of her tea while her gaze wandered to Lord Bonham’s face. Those dark chocolate eyes of his pulled her in, invited her to take refuge in his quiet strength. “That next game more or less ended Papa’s career of wagering, for he lost the entirety of his Oxfordshire holdings.”
The duke growled. The duchess shot him a look. Lord Bonham’s hand resting on his muscled thigh curled into a fist.
Arabella appreciated the empathy, but she didn’t want their pity. “Of course, Lord Breckenridge couldn’t just leave it at that.” The hand holding her teacup shook. “He said he would forgive the enormous debt if my father would agree to let him marry me.”
This time it was Lord Bonham who protested. “And the buggar took it. He traded you for his property.” The man glanced at his father. “You must do something. Surely you can see Miss Holly is afraid of him.”
“For good reason,” the duke agreed. “Lord Breckenridge has a reputation of being a foul-tempered, vengeful man.”
“To say nothing of the fact he’s thirty years my senior,” Arabella added on a barely audible whisper. A shiver went down her spine. “Which is why I pretended a megrim earlier this evening that prevented me from dining with him and my parents. I took the opportunity to hastily pack a trunk and then I fled.”
“But fate met you on that road tonight,” the duchess said with a gleam of interest in her pretty eyes. “You came to Ivy Castle for a reason.”
“If that reason is sanctuary, I’ll take it, for I can’t marry Lord Breckenridge.” Her voice broke on the last word. “I’m sorry for Papa’s troubles, but I just can’t do this.” She shook her head as tears prickled the backs of her eyelids. “I always thought that when I married, I would do so for love; not to be treated like chattel and given away without a care.”
“Hush now, dear. Don’t cry.” The duchess took her free hand and held it. “You are welcome to stay at Ivy Castle for as long as you like.” When she exchanged a speaking glance with her husband, Arabella’s cheeks heated again. “No one should have to marry a bounder like Lord Breckenridge.”
“Hear, hear.” Lord Bonham’s dark eyes flashed. Was that annoyance for her or for the situation? He met her gaze, and a host of butterfly wings brushed the insides of her belly. “My father is the Duke of Whittington. If anyone can rectify this bit of horror, he can.”
“I don’t know about that,” the duke hedged. He pushed off from the mantle and stood with his hands clasped behind his back. When he landed his intense gaze on her, Arabella shivered. “Do you believe your father has already had contracts drawn up?”
“I couldn’t say, but from the haste and enthusiasm the two of them have shown, in addition to my mother’s tears and worry, I can only assume that’s true.” When the duchess squeezed her hand, she took comfort in that touch. “They’ve probably already discovered my defection; no doubt Lord Breckenridge and my father are in pursuit.” Fear twisted down her spine. “Please say you’ll help my cause.” Despite her resolve, a tear fell to her cheek. “If the rumors are true about Lord Breckenridge, his previous two wives died under mysterious circumstances. I don’t wish to be a third.”
Lord Bonham launched from his chair, and before anyone could utter a word, he’d taken the teacup from her hand to replace it with his handkerchief. “Of course my father will help.” He shot a glance to the duke. “Won’t you? It’s barbaric what Miss Holly’s father aims to do.”
“Calm yourself, Graham.” The duke waved a hand. “Sit.”
One of Arabella’s eyebrows rose. Graham was his name, and a lovely one that that. It conjured all sorts of images and dreams that she had no business thinking of.
Then the duke continued. “Yes, it’s beyond the pale the squire means to trade his daughter for his holdings. However, it’s not illegal nor can I put a halt to the proceedings, especially if a contract has already been signed.”
Her stomach plummeted into her toes. She clung to the duchess’ hand. “Does that mean I need to go home?” Another tear fell to her cheek. “I’m terrified, Your Grace, that Lord Breckenridge will harm me, or worse.” She dabbed at the moisture on her face as her mind whirled.
“I’m certain Whittington can think of something,” the older woman said in soothing tones. “In the meantime, we won’t turn you out. There’s plenty of room here.”
Apparently sensing Arabella’s distress, Moonbeam meowed and then sprang into her lap.
“What will happen if one—or both—of them come here after me?”
“We’ll deny them entry,” Lord Bonham answered promptly as he once more launched out of his chair. The determination in his expression tugged at her heart.
It was rather nice having so many people care for her future and want to protect her against the evils currently besieging it. “Your father said that if the contracts have already been signed—”
“Bah.” The younger lord waved a hand as if it didn’t matter. “To my way of thinking, it’s never a done deal unless the woman is well and truly wed.”
Ah, and there was the attitude that painted him as the rogue the rumors said he was. Cold disappointment coiled through her chest. “Then it matters not if I find refuge at Ivy Castle,” she said in a voice devoid of emotion. “I should, instead, wait for Lord Breckenridge to arrive and then go meekly back with him.”
“Absolutely not!” Lord Bonham’s outburst was said with such enthusiasm that all heads turned in his direction. “I forbid it.”
“You forbid it,” the duke repeated, his tones incredulous. “Under what authority, boy? You have no say in the matter.” He landed a sharp look upon his son until a faint flush rose up the younger man’s neck.
Lord Bonham shoved a hand through his hair, upsetting the carefully placed waves. “Put Letty in Miss Holly’s place. If your daughter were facing the same scenario, would you let her go like a lamb to slaughter?”
“No, but Lettice wouldn’t—”
“You can’t know that.” He shook his head, and an intense gleam ignited in the dark depths of his eyes. “You are well aware of Lord Breckenridge’s reputation. What kind of life are you consigning Miss Holly to by allowing this to happen?” As he spoke with such passion, Arabella couldn’t help watching his mouth. Such chiseled lips. She’d seen such things on a statue of a Greek god once at the British Museum but never on a living person.
Truly, he was gorgeous.
“I’m not allowing anything, so do not think to pin this mess on my shoulders, Graham.” The note of command in the voice should have quelled his son, but he refused to back down.
“All I’m asking is that you give Miss Holly a reprieve so she can regroup—so we might all think of an alternative,” Lord Bonham finally said, but from the stubborn set of his jaw, the matter wasn’t nearly over.
“Thank you, Lord Bonham. I appreciate the support.” The fact that he would defend her without knowing anything about her tugged at Arabella’s heart. She pulled her hand from the duchess’ hold while rising to her feet, displacing Moonbeam. The cat protested with a meow and moved to twine again between Lord Bonham’s feet. “I should never have bothered you with this, for it’s obvious I have no recourse, and you have family matters to attend.”
“I don’t think there’s a need for such dramatics, Miss Holly.” There was a fair amount of sarcasm in the duke’s voice. “Sit down.”
She more or less crumpled back onto her cushion.
“You as well, Graham.” He narrowed his eyes on his son. “What the devil ails you tonight? I’ve never seen you take an interest in anyone aside from yourself before.”
“I cannot wait idly by while someone’s fate hangs in the balance,” he muttered as he returned to his chair. Moonbeam trotted along behind him, and when he settled, the feline jumped into his lap. As he scratched the cat behind her ears as naturally as if he’d been doing it his whole life, he said, “You’re sentencing her to a life of fear and perhaps even an early death if Lord Breckenridge has indeed ushered in the early demise of his previous wives.”
“Graham!” Shock wove through the duchess’ voice. “Remember your manners.”
Arabella met his gaze and offered a faint smile. “Thank you.” Truly, he was adorable in his defense, and it made her long for all the things she’d had with her fiancés who’d passed from this world. “What now?” Her stomach let loose a loud rumble that sent another round of heat to her cheeks.
The duke exchanged a speaking glance with his wife. “For the time being, you need rest as well as a good meal.” He strode across the room and yanked upon a brocade bell pull. “While the housekeeper readies a room for you, I’ll send a carriage out to rescue your driver as well as your luggage. At first light, we’ll see about having your coach repaired.”
Despite not having a clear path to her future divined, Arabella nodded. “I appreciate any assistance you’ll allow. Even if it’s merely a reprieve.”
With a stately elegance, the duchess stood. She shook out her purple skirts. “Since all of that will take some time, you should eat a more proper meal than what tea provides.”
As the butler appeared at the door, the duke spoke to him in hushed tones. Then he followed the man from the room.
“Graham, while I speak with Mrs. Addison, I would appreciate it if you would sit with Miss Holly. I’ll have a tray brought in with things from the refreshment table, but I don’t want her to be alone right now.”
“Very well, Mother.”
She patted his cheek as she crossed the room. “Thank you. No one should feel unwanted during Christmastide.”
Then Arabella was left alone in the parlor with Lord Bonham. Tingles danced down her spine, much different than the fear she’d felt knowing she couldn’t escape her father’s plan to marry her off to Lord Breckenridge. “You needn’t stay if you had other plans for the evening. I’m quite used to spending my time alone.”
He stroked a hand along Moonbeam’s back, and suddenly Arabella was sharply jealous of the attention he gave to the cat. “That’s incredibly disappointing, for a woman of your looks and fortitude should always have someone who’s willing to play companion.”
“You’re quite charming, and I appreciate the sentiment.” She sighed but couldn’t take her attention from him. Something about him called to her, as if she were always meant to meet him for whatever reason. “I’m glad Moonbeam likes you. It would have made this journey ten times worse if she didn’t.”
“I find her presence soothing.” He rested his gaze on Arabella. “Please don’t fret about your current worries. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you from Lord Breckenridge’s clutches.”
“Thank you.” She was acutely aware of her stocking-covered feet and the dirty state of her hem the longer he stared. “I suppose I should be grateful someone is willing to marry me after the run of misfortune I’ve had.”
“Meaning what?” His voice was nearly a growl, which caused Moonbeams hackles to rise. “Surely you can’t mean to have Lord Breckenridge over remaining unwed.”
“Oh, I don’t want him at all.” Arabella shook her head. “However, my reputation in some circles is Lady Misfortune due to the fact I’ve been engaged thrice, and three times over the men have expired prematurely. Either the war took them or natural causes.” She twisted his handkerchief in her fingers and when she raised it to her nose, the lingering scent of cedarwood, leather and spices wrapped around her. “Men don’t come near anymore for fear I’ll send them to an early grave.”
“What poppycock.” He must have managed to bring calm to her cat, for Moonbeam plopped herself down on his lap in a ball and began purring. “None of those deaths are your fault. There is nothing wrong with you, and anyone who says so is laboring under weak superstitions. Any man should find himself highly fortunate to call you his.”
Her cheeks heated. “Such praise from one who knows me not at all.”
“Given the opportunity, I’d very much like to,” he said in a soft voice. “Yet it’s likely you’ll only be at Ivy Castle for one night.” The intensity of his eyes had the ability to steal her breath.
“More’s the pity,” she whispered. The cold desolation coiling through her chest confused her. Why did she feel such a thing when she’d only just met him? Never had any of her fiancés made an expression like that so quickly. “I suppose we should make the best of the time we are afforded. That’s how I’ve lived my life in recent years anyway.”
“I rather like the sound of that.” When he grinned, her heart fluttered.
She’d soon forget her own name if he continued to look at her like that. “Good.” Her voice sounded squeaky. “But if you’d like to return to the ball...” In some vagueness, she gestured to the door.
“The thought of dancing without you there holds no appeal.” Nothing except honesty shone in his eyes as another round of heat swept through her cheeks.
“Such blatant flirting so early in this conversation is a little overwhelming, Lord Bonham.” She dropped her gaze. “Though, if I can speak frankly, it feels as if I’ve known you forever instead of a mere hour.”
“It’s rather odd, isn’t it?” That soft grin would be the end of her if she weren’t careful. Even now, her imagination ran away with her, and she could easily grow used to seeing that sensual grin and those twinkling eyes over the breakfast table for many years into the future. “I feel as if the elusive something I’ve searched for over the years is finally here, but how is that possible?” The frown that chased away the grin was just as spellbinding.
“Perhaps we were meant to be friends. Life is funny that way.” Suddenly, the reality of her situation came tumbling back, and the weight of that was twice as heavy now upon her shoulders. Tears sprang to her eyes and spilled to her cheeks. “Oh, Lord Bonham, I simply cannot marry that man. I’d rather die.”
Why couldn’t she find an out-of-the-way room within Ivy Castle to hide in while life resumed around her?