A Perfect Groom (18 page)
It appeared Justin did not share her loss for words. “As you can see,” he said mildly, “the duchess is a woman who does not hesitate to speak her mind. And she does fancy herself a matchmaker extraordinaire.”
Arabella eyed him over Geoffrey’s head. “How did she know about Walter? You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone he proposed!”
“And I did not.”
“Then how could she possibly…”
“My dear Arabella, it was obvious dear Walter was smitten with you.”
But Justin was hardly smitten with her. Why, then, had the duchess said what she had? And why hadn’t Justin set the duchess to rights regarding the two of them? Merciful heavens, why hadn’t
she
?
Arabella’s gaze slid away. She swallowed, no longer able to meet his amused regard.
Her heart constricted. A sense of helplessness assailed her. Oh, Lord. She couldn’t…wouldn’t.
..shouldn’t
fall for a man like him.
Yet the oddest thought kept running through her mind. What if it was already too late?
The seating arrangements at dinner were the same as the previous evening, with the exception of McElroy’s absence. Afterward, the gentlemen gathered for port and cigars, and the women retired to the drawing room. Arabella, however, was restless. She and Georgiana walked outside for a time, and when they returned to the house, they stopped to inspect the heavy, gilt-framed paintings in the portrait gallery. One by one they paused before the generations of Sterlings. In truth, Arabella paid scant attention to Georgiana’s idle chatter. Her mind was elsewhere. But suddenly Georgiana exclaimed, “Why, look, it’s Sebastian, Justin and Julianna!”
Her attention piqued, Arabella leaned closer. The three
Sterling
siblings were easily recognizable, as they had changed but little since childhood.
“My word, but look at Justin! The likeness to his mother is amazing.”
Arabella caught her breath. Georgiana was right. Their mother was truly a vision. It was clear Justin had inherited his looks from her. Each possessed the same fine-boned elegance, the same dramatically gleaming dark hair, the same exquisite plane of perfect, symmetrical features. But it was the mother’s eyes that captured Arabella’s notice the longest. Bright, startlingly vivid green, long-lashed, and spectacular, particularly in contrast with her hair…it was like peering into Justin’s eyes.
But their father, the previous marquess…A chill swept over her. He was thin-lipped and austere, and she took an instant dislike to him.
“Good evening, ladies.”
So engrossed were they in the portrait that they both jumped.
It was Justin, garbed in black evening clothes, so dashingly handsome he nearly stole her breath. His gaze rested for a disturbingly long moment on Arabella, then slid to Georgiana. He inclined his head. “Miss Larwood, your presence has been requested in the drawing room. Something about a game of charades.”
Georgiana clapped her hands together. “Oh, but I do love charades!” She started off, only to stop an instant later. “Arabella, what about you?”
Arabella gave a slight shake of her head. “Perhaps later.” Her gaze returned to Justin. She frowned, rather puzzled. He had been charming and light and teasing during dinner. But the warmth he’d displayed throughout the day was gone. He seemed suddenly distant. Almost cold.
She struggled for something to say, feeling suddenly awkward. “Georgiana and I were just commenting how much you resemble your mother.”
“Yes, I’m quite aware of that. But we all have our curses, don’t we?”
His tone was no less than icy, his expression drawn in cold, frigid lines. He regarded the portrait unsmilingly.
Arabella floundered. “I’m sorry. Georgiana and I, we didn’t mean to intrude where we should not —”
“Don’t be silly. The gallery is hardly off-limits to guests.” He drew his shoulders up tensely, then released a breath.
“I’m sorry, Arabella. I have a particular aversion to this portrait. Sebastian thinks it belongs here. Family and duty and all that.” He grimaced. “My father had it removed when we were young. It was painted just before the scandal and he couldn’t stand the sight of it.”
Arabella frowned. “The scandal?”
“Oh, come. You don’t have to be polite and pretend you don’t know how my mother ran off with her lover.”
Arabella blinked. “Her lover?”
Justin gave a mocking laugh. “Innocent Arabella. Yes, my mother had lovers — quite a number of them, I suspect. She was killed crossing the Channel with her lover of the moment.”
“Oh,” she said in a small voice. “I’m afraid I didn’t know.”
He eyed her. “Truly?”
“Truly.” But she suddenly recalled how, the night of the
Bennington
ball, he’d mentioned his family and scandal.
“I’m surprised you didn’t. These things have a way of resurfacing.”
“Well, I didn’t. I wasn’t even born,” she reminded him. “And I was often out of the country with my parents when I was young.”
“I’d forgotten,” he admitted. “Suffice it to say that Sebastian did a far better job of being both mother and father to Julianna and I when we were young than either of our parents.”
“I’m sorry,” Arabella murmured.
“Don’t be.” His tone was still rather curt. He stared at the image of his mother.
On unfamiliar ground, Arabella struggled for something to say. “I suppose that explains your closeness, then,” she said softly. “When I was a child, I remember wanting a brother or sister so badly I would plead with Mama and Papa. But Mama had fallen ill with infection after I was born, and was never able to conceive again. Of course, it was some time before I understood why.”
Still he said nothing. He hadn’t taken his eyes from the portrait. He stared as if transfixed, his expression half-hurt, half-angry. Arabella had the oddest feeling he wasn’t even aware of her presence.
His silence was beginning to scrape on her nerves.
She glanced wistfully up and down the gallery. “You’re very lucky to have grown up in a place like this, though. Papa was always being called abroad for his missionary work, and it was exciting to travel to
India
and
Africa
, but we never really had a place to call home. We stayed with Aunt Grace when we were in
England
, and when I was in school. That was nice, but my cousins were older than I, and so I was the one always having to entertain myself. I should have loved to have had a home in the country like this. Not so grand, of course, but something cozy and —”
All at once she stopped. She’d succeeded in diverting his attention, at least. “I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
“You are,” was all he said.
A guarded tension defined his stance. Words seemed to dry up in her throat. She felt acutely lame. “And saying all the wrong things in the bargain, too, aren’t I?”
She heard him inhale then release his breath as if he were striving mightily to relax. He gave a shake of his head; his gaze avoided hers. “It’s not you. It’s me, Arabella. Not you. I can be a beast sometimes.”
“Yes, my Lord Vice,” she agreed mildly. “You certainly can.”
He startled her by taking both her hands within his, turning to face her directly. “Will you come onto the terrace with me? If I stay inside much longer, I — I feel like I might choke.”
Arabella’s lips parted. She gazed up at him. He was taut and tight-lipped, his voice oddly strained. She didn’t pretend to understand what he meant, yet there was a terrible, terrible tension within him. She could see it. She could
feel
it. What was behind it, she didn’t know. She didn’t care. All she knew was that if her mere presence could help ease it, then by God, she would help him.
She squeezed his fingers. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” Arabella clung blindly to his hand as he led her quickly to the end of the portrait gallery, down a passageway, and through a door that took them to the rear of the house. In order to keep up with him, she was almost running. Only when they were outside did his pace slow.
They walked at a more leisurely pace now. The terrace ran the entire length of the house. Her hand was still anchored within his. Just thinking about it made her pulse skitter madly. Was Justin even aware of it? she wondered. She ignored the prick of disappointment. No doubt he’d forgotten, too preoccupied to even notice. But she liked the feel of his hand wrapped around hers, his grip warm and strong.
It was a clear, wonderful night, the temperature so mild she had no need of a wrap. Though the moon was no longer full, the lights from inside the house blazed a path for them to follow.
“Oh, look!” She pointed to the outline of a cherry tree on the edge of the orchard. “Now, that,” she announced, “is the perfect tree for climbing. See the way the branches spread wide and hang low? Easy to simply leap up, grab hold, and swing a leg up.”
Justin came to a halt. “My dear Miss Vicar, never say you used to climb trees when you were young.” He arched a brow. “You?”
Arabella wrinkled her nose. “Oh, stop pretending to be shocked.”
There was a small silence. “Actually, I was going to say I fell out of that tree once and broke my wrist.”
Arabella didn’t see the shadow that flickered across his face. “Well, I was never so clumsy,” she went on breezily. “There was a tree much like that one at Uncle Joseph’s estate near
Yorkshire
. I’ll never forget the day my mother walked outside to find me hanging upside down, my skirts swirling about my head.”
“I daresay that’s probably not a feat every mother wishes to see her daughter engage in.”
Arabella stole a glance at him. She was relieved to note some of the harshness had left his face. “Yes. My mother was quite horrified. And my father…I vow he’s the gentlest soul on this earth. As I recall, that’s the only time I ever heard him raise his voice to me. Though I certainly gave them both enough provocation,” she added thoughtfully.
“Do they know you’re the darling of the
ton
?”
Arabella lifted her gaze heavenward. “Well, I haven’t mentioned it in my letters,” she said dryly, “though I’m sure Aunt Grace has.”
They walked on a bit farther, past a high stone wall. The air was filled with the scent of roses. Justin paused, a wide stone bench behind him. The drawing room was nearby, casting out hazy fingerlings of light that etched his profile in silver.
When he released her hand, she felt curiously bereft. But they stood close, so near his scent eclipsed that of the roses.
The merest hint of a smile curled his lips.
“What is it?” she murmured.
“I was thinking about the night I came here from
London
once. Sebastian and
Devon
were here. And I think — no, I am almost
certain
they were out here kissing when I arrived.”
“Why is that so unusual? They do, after all, have two children.”
His smile widened ever so slightly. “They weren’t married then.”
“Oh.” Arabella felt her cheeks pinken.
Justin gave a husky laugh. “Don’t look so shocked, Miss Vicar. Remind me sometime to tell you the tale of how those two ended up together. It’s quite a story.”
“Really? They’re such a perfect couple. It’s obvious they’re very much in love.”
“That they are,” he agreed.
Her eyes widened. “I’m surprised to hear you say that.”
“Why?”
“Well, I — I just assumed you didn’t believe in love.”
Justin made no comment.
“My parents are like that,” she confided, her voice very low. “They look at each other and — and it’s like no one else in the world exists, save the two of them. And yet, the truth is…my parents are so much in love that I — sometimes I almost feel like an outsider.”
“I’m sure they love you very much, Arabella.”
“Oh, they do. I know they do! But…I suppose I’m not making much sense.”
She gave an embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”
“You told Walter you would only marry for love,” Justin said suddenly. “Is that why?”
She lifted her hands, then let them fall to her sides. “Yes. I can’t imagine marrying someone I don’t love. Can you?”
He merely raised his brows.
Arabella bit her lip. “Yes, yes, I know. You’re hardly the person to ask. Men like you spend much of your adult life seeking to avoid marriage.”
Justin crossed his arms across his chest. “Ah, Miss Vicar is getting testy now. Let us consider the requisites of a wife, then.”
“Obviously she would be a diamond of the first water.”
“Without question.”
“Ah, then. So you would require a
beautiful
, docile, biddable maid.”