An Accidental Affair (11 page)

At first, she had assumed it was about Cecily, yet Farnsworth was still in their Half Moon Street residence, complaining at every opportunity. The butler appeared and delivered yet another note to Farnsworth. When he picked it up and read it, his eyes darted in her direction. He smiled, yet kept the details to himself again.

Arabella began to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

“What will you do?” She posed her question carefully, uncertain of whether she wanted his answer or not. Rothwell had eased her mind of Cecily being abandoned when the idea of elopement lost its appeal to Lieutenant Ford. As far as Rothwell was concerned, Cecily would marry without a shadow of a doubt and she had to believe it would be so.

Farnsworth sighed. “There is little to be done. She left very early last night. She has a whole night of travel between us, and according to my reports, this Ford fellow has disappeared without a trace. He’ll not stop long on the way to the border. Only a fool would attempt a recovery, and I am not dancing to that tune. It will take time for the stain to be forgotten by society, but Parker will overlook the impropriety and that is all that matters.”

Farnsworth was so wrong she wanted to laugh at him. They were in Town and everyone they met with would soon know exactly what had befallen the house of Farnsworth. The man had been obsessed with keeping up appearances prior to Cecily’s elopement. He was always throwing out little remarks about how a lady should conduct herself in public. No matter how much money changed hands or what apologies were made to Parker, the scandal would not subside for some time and would remain a black spot on the family’s reputation.

A tap on the front door reverberated through the house. Although Arabella strained her ears, she could not discern who it might be. When the butler interrupted their dinner yet again a few moments later, he went directly to Farnsworth, holding his little silver tray before him. A single note rested on the silver surface and he read it quickly. Farnsworth met her gaze. “You must excuse me. A matter of business has arisen that must be dealt with.”

“Do the notes concern Cecily?”

“No.” Farnsworth slipped the note into his pocket, his expression thoughtful. “You would do well to forget her and focus on the future. I’ll need a few minutes to conclude my business, and then I will join you in the drawing room.”

He retreated and rudely left Arabella seated at the dining table amid a feast better suited to a larger gathering and a celebration. Tomorrow Arabella would speak to cook about extravagance. It was not necessary to dine so lavishly when it was just herself and Farnsworth sitting down to dinner. She reached for her wineglass, startled to see her hand shaking. Just contemplating bringing order and good sense to Farnsworth’s homes unsettled her.

Without Cecily to talk to, Arabella was not certain what she would do with herself tonight in the drawing room. Since she’d come up to Town, she had concentrated on what Cecily needed. Practice at the pianoforte, dissecting the peerage to determine familial connections of those they met. During the day, they went out—shopping for new gloves, visiting the modiste, accepting invitations to parties and fetes that would show the girl off to advantage. Farnsworth had insisted they decline tonight’s round of amusements given Cecily’s embarrassing elopement, and she had to agree with his decision. If they went out without Cecily in their ranks, someone would ask of her whereabouts.

Without a pressing task before her, Arabella retreated to the drawing room as Farnsworth had demanded and stopped before a window facing the street. Outside, a steady rain had fallen since midafternoon, cocooning her with her thoughts and worries. Rain would slow Cecily and Lieutenant Ford’s flight to the border, though it might just prevent any pursuit being made by the Fords. She hoped Rothwell had factored bad weather into his calculations. She smiled ruefully. She had completely underestimated that gentleman. He was not the pleasure-obsessed rogue society made him out to be. He believed in love and helping those in need. Not at all what she’d imagined he might feel.

She leaned toward the window and tried to see the façade of his town house far down Half Moon Street, toward the park. If she pressed her nose to the glass, she could just see enough to determine its location. Were the windows lit more brightly than normal tonight? Possibly. Perhaps she was not the only one to eschew the pleasures of Town on a rainy night, or it was more likely Rothwell had his own private entertainment indoors. All she had was Farnsworth and his odd looks.

Dispirited by that thought, Arabella turned from the window and then shrieked. Farnsworth was standing immediately behind her, smiling down at her in that odd way he’d adopted today, another refilled glass in hand. She pressed her fingers to her chest, attempting to recover her calm and control her racing pulse. “Gracious, I did not hear you come in, Farnsworth.”

He did not move back. “Did you not plan to be so artfully displayed when I returned? You must do exactly that tomorrow when Parker calls.”

“Artfully?” She scowled at him for frightening her and babbling nonsense. “Really, Farnsworth, you must moderate your consumption of spirits. They make you imagine any number of ridiculous things.”

“Not so ridiculous.” Farnsworth placed the glass on the nearest table. “We are alike, you and I. We each hesitate to say what is on our minds.”

Arabella had had enough of his moods today. Farnsworth held nothing of his opinions in reserve. She’d learned so much while living beneath his roof to determine she had to do everything she could to avoid continuing the conversation. “I believe I should like to retire early tonight. Excuse me.”

Farnsworth’s hand rose and cupped her face. “I was thinking the same thing. You should be refreshed for when Parker extends his offer of marriage tomorrow.”

It took a moment to make sense of Farnsworth’s words, but when she did, she staggered back against the window. “You must be mistaken.”

“Not at all.” He held up a scrap of paper for her to see. “It is all arranged. Since Cecily has eloped, your days as a chaperone are done. You shall marry Parker by special license tomorrow and any embarrassment to the family will largely be erased by the connection.”

“I am not marrying Parker,” she insisted. Arabella had only wanted a lover, not a man to tell her what to do with her days. “Whatever possessed you to think you could arrange such a thing without consulting me?”

He grabbed her arm and jerked her hard against him, well beyond the bounds of proper behavior for any gentleman. “You will do what I say or you will get out. Have I not been patient while you mourned? Have I not allowed you certain freedoms while keeping a roof over your head and providing you with endless luxury? If you had any family, I’d have sent you back to them, but I thought you could be useful. Well, you will be now. With your help, Cecily managed to repel every proper gentleman save that Ford runt and ruined us in the process. It’s up to you to smooth the way forward.”

“What do you mean ruin us? What haven’t you told me?” Arabella struggled and his grip tightened. Such a situation she had never imagined she would find herself in. What woman did? She would not marry Parker. She would not marry anyone. Unfortunately, the more she fought against his hold, the tighter Farnsworth gripped her. “Farnsworth, release me at once or I will scream.”

The next moment, his open palm slammed against her cheek, sending her spinning across the room and into a side table. Small ornaments shattered as they hit the floor. Only a single, unlit silver candelabra remained on the surface and even it tipped on its side.

“You will do as I say, woman,” he growled, stalking toward her. “Don’t tell me you’re not in the mood for a man after all your come-hither looks you’ve sent the fellows about London this season. You ruined my daughter, planted wild notions in her head about love and personal freedom. I won’t suffer the expense of you under my roof a moment longer without the promise of a dividend in return. Luckily, Parker isn’t repelled by a more experienced woman and has settled my debts in full in order to have you. Be grateful it’s marriage he offers and not an affair. You’ll marry him or live on the street with the other tarts for all I care.”

She stared at him, shocked by the way he saw her actions. She’d created no scandal herself. She’d done not one thing to feel embarrassed about. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have done nothing to deserve being treated in this manner. I am not a horse to sell at Tattersall’s.”

“Oh, come now. I’m not a fool or blind.” His hand shot out and wrapped about her throat, hauling her upright to meet his eyes. His bloodshot gaze skimmed over her body once, a sneer forming on his mouth. He was far more intoxicated than she’d first suspected. His grip tightened as he pressed her against the table. “New dresses designed to arouse, the absence of my brother’s wedding ring upon your finger. You had but one plan in mind when you came up to Town. Seduction. Well, you got your wish. There is one gentleman among the many prepared to seize what’s on offer.”

Arabella clutched at the table behind her for support. “I came because you gave me no choice,” she croaked.

Farnsworth’s face came closer. “You always had a choice. Pretend all you like, but you’ll get your wish for a man between your legs. You’ll be married before the sun sets tomorrow and business with Parker will be complete.”

Arabella groped behind her. Her fingers closed on the lone candlestick. The cold, heavy silver reassured her somewhat. “You’re mad. I am not marrying him or anyone.”

He drew back, but his free hand rose as if to strike her again. “Then get out of my house.”

As his hand fell toward her face again, Arabella swung the candlestick, clubbing Farnsworth on the side of his head with all her might. It wasn’t enough to drop him to the floor, but he staggered back, clutching at his head and bellowing his rage. She took one instant to decide she shouldn’t stay another moment to try to reason with him. She flung the candlestick from her fingers and ran for the door. She passed the butler, ignoring his expression of horror, gained the entrance hall, and wrenched open the front door and stared out into the night.

“Arabella! You have no choice,” Farnsworth bellowed.

But she
did
have a choice. Despite the rain, and having no possessions save the gown she wore, she plunged out into the safety of darkness. She chose freedom.

Once on the street, she glanced left and right through the rain and knew she had little time to decide her direction. She hadn’t wounded Farnsworth greatly, and he seemed convinced she’d fall in with his plans. It was possible he might follow and force her to return. She chose left and the open space of the park ahead, moving off at a normal walking pace to avoid scrutiny. By the fourth house, the trickle of rain had grown to a downpour, slick cold water sliding beneath the neckline of her flimsy dinner gown and between her breasts.

A carriage clattered past her on the narrow street, flicking dirty water across her lower skirts. She swiped at it ineffectually and then gave up. She couldn’t keep going like this without a specific destination in mind, so she stopped in the servants’ stairwell of a house she knew to be vacant this season to think for a minute or two.
 

The park ahead would be dangerous at this time of night for a woman alone. Farnsworth might come upon her there and do even worse.

She looked around her quickly and shivered as rain slicked her skin. She had few friends in London that would accept her arrival and ask no questions about her disheveled, rain-soaked state. Anyone with a sense of honor would demand answers that she didn’t want to give.

Footsteps pounded past where she hid and she huddled against the stair wall, desperately trying to control her fear and not give herself away. When all was silent again, she risked a peek. There was no one in sight or carriages drawing close, but across the street stood Lord Rothwell’s house. The fanlight and lower street-front windows were brightly lit, casting the only welcoming glow to the evening that she could see. Rothwell might shelter her if he were at home, at least for a few hours until she could make up her mind where to go.

He had proved himself a gentleman of sorts. She had never feared him, only found his intense stare strangely unsettling. She didn’t believe he would take advantage of a woman in her position. Tonight, of all nights, he was her best bet for safety.

With a quick check of the street, she bit her lip and stepped toward that light, trusting that her good friend’s best friend would be the right option. At least if he were to ravish her, she might actually enjoy it.

A ripple of fear raced over her skin as she knocked on the blue door and huddled against it, making herself as small as possible. She glanced up and down the street swiftly but detected no movement coming after her. Through the rain, she thought the doorway of her own home was dark, which led her to believe Farnsworth might still be looking for her.

She knocked rapidly again on Rothwell’s door and it opened suddenly. “Help me,” she said to Rothwell’s servant and stumbled over the doorstep, quickly shoving the door closed behind her.

She ran her hands over the comfortingly solid door and turned the locks herself, dragging in several ragged breaths in relief. Farnsworth might never consider she would come here and it would take him a while to get through that door when it possessed so many stout locks. She might even have enough time to escape through the rear exit if no one stood in her path.

After a time, she grew aware of the repeated clearing of a throat behind her. Knowing she couldn’t avoid it, she slowly pivoted to face the room. At first glance, she thought she stood before Rothwell himself, but this man was somewhat older and had none of his intensity.