An Accidental Affair (13 page)

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After about an hour, Holland joined Merrick in the study, where he sat staring into an empty brandy glass. Holland closed the door behind him and leaned against it. “She is resting now, I believe. Everything has grown quiet.”

Merrick rolled the glass between his hands. “Where did you put her?”

Holland crossed the room, took the open decanter of brandy, and replaced the stopper. “Your mother’s old room has recently been cleaned in preparation for your marriage, so I took the liberty of putting her there. It is the most comfortable bedchamber in the town house save yours.”

“Did she say anything else?”

Holland took the empty glass from his hands and set it aside. “Not a word beyond thank you. I left her with a nightshirt of yours and a glass of port to sip. I thought she might sleep better for having it.”

“I own a nightshirt?” Merrick bowed his head, marveling at how calm and practical Holland could be at a time like this. “Holland, I need your advice.”

 
“Of course.”

Anger flared to life again. “Lady Cecily eloped. Farnsworth compromised on the price for Winslette and then insisted Arabella marry someone she didn’t want. Am I to blame for her injuries? Is this my fault?”

Holland came closer and perched on the edge of the desk. His hand settled on Merrick’s shoulder a moment before he drew back. “Farnsworth’s temper has always been quick, or so the servants I’ve come across have remarked in the past.”

“A refused match has often resulted in quarrels, but this is beyond anything I could have anticipated. She’s his sister-in-law for Gods sake.” Merrick rubbed his hands over his face. He couldn’t rest until he was sure he hadn’t caused this. “Just yesterday he sold her home to me for what I believed was a fair price. Though the bargaining was brisk, I detected no desperation in the negotiations.”

“There was none. I believe you. The deal was fair, generous even, and he was indeed very happy with the bargain he struck with you.”

“Ugh.” Anger propelled him to his feet. He had never felt so utterly useless. He wanted to return the damage done to Arabella tenfold. “I cannot help feeling that my actions set her up so Farnsworth could control her and give her no choice. What did he hope to gain?”

“I am not sure.” Holland poured a drink and held it out to Merrick. “I confess I had concluded Farnsworth liked everything his way. From what I could glean, there were three other parties interested in that property. You were simply faster and fairer in naming a price. If not you, then someone else would have taken Winslette off his hands. Lady Farnsworth would likely have been in the same situation if you had not made the purchase.”

Merrick took the glass but slid it back to the table untouched. He didn’t need to start down that drunken path tonight. He needed to keep a clear head and decide what to do. “I don’t think she knows yet that he sold Winslette.”

Holland drained the discarded glass in two swallows and set it aside. “Then you will have to tell her yourself that she has no home and see how she takes the news.”

“She has a home still.” Merrick raked his fingers through his hair. He’d never explained the matter fully to Holland and now seemed an opportune time to get the matter out into the open. “It was never my intention to evict her.”

Holland’s eyes narrowed. “I had assumed you intended to make Winslette your country residence for a while, given the proximity to Lord Grayling and his family and the distance from Newberry Park. I had considered you might set your wife up close to your friends so they might become better acquainted in a shorter space of time.”

“I never intended to live there. My first thought was to buy it so Grayling might not miss out on the opportunity. Winslette does share a boundary with his estate. But then I reconsidered and decided to keep it.”

“I see.” Holland’s frown cleared. “Well, then, you should be up-front with Lady Farnsworth as soon as possible to set her mind at ease. She is probably worried for her future, and that of her staff. I am told she is very kind to them and may be concerned for their security.”

“Arabella is kind to all who cross her path.”

He sensed Holland’s scrutiny before the man spoke.

“And is that why you like her so well?”

Merrick could not get much past Holland. His half brother would have made a fine Ford, always prying into matters that were better left alone. He faced his brother and shrugged. “One of them, at any rate.”

“Ah, I did not realize the wind blew in that direction.” He chuckled briefly and then his head tilted. “You do realize that Lady Farnsworth would make you a fine wife.”

“I hardly think a marriage would be on her mind after this.” He sighed. “The most I can hope for is to make her feel she is safe again.”

“Ah,” Holland said, and a grimace crossed face. “No wonder you seem so out of sorts. You cannot blame yourself about tonight’s events. It was not you who struck her and she will need your help on the morrow to make the right choices.”

“Assuming there are any,” he muttered as Holland drew closer. “Her gown appeared ruined. She will need a gown and other personal items for tomorrow—items not readily found in this house.”

“Everything can be bought if you have money enough.”

Merrick knew that, but there could be complications. He did not ordinarily buy women’s clothing for his household. He didn’t employ any women in London and he had no sisters, not even half sisters, nearby to spoil with pretty dresses or even ribbons for their hair. “Everything can be gossiped about too.”

Holland paused while straightening up the room. “Are you still on good terms with the courtesan Lottie Townsend?”

“Yes.” Relief filled him. He had not considered approaching that particular woman for aid, but Lottie would be just the ticket. If he explained enough details of what had transpired, the woman would surely make the purchases on his behalf and see they were delivered discreetly. “I’ll write a note containing what I need for Arabella’s comfort. If you would take it to her tonight, I would be grateful. Lottie will keep quiet.”

“Are you sure?”

“Lottie would never betray a wronged woman, and I’ll send a gift along with you as thanks.” He quickly scrawled a note, giving only the barest of particulars and requesting her silence and, after describing Arabella’s dimensions as best he could, requested at least a suitable day gown for tomorrow.

“You’re a good man, Merrick,” Holland said suddenly. “You never fail to surprise me in your quest to do the right thing. I am sure it’s not always easy.”

“Nothing ever is.” He glanced at his brother, gratitude filling him. He might not have won wider society’s approval in everything he did, but his brother knew him best of all. “Just don’t tell anyone. They likely wouldn’t believe you.”

Holland took the note and slid it into his coat pocket. “Then they are fools.”

When Holland was on his way, Merrick climbed the stairs toward the room where Arabella slept. He cast an anxious glance in that direction before turning for his empty bedchamber. At the entrance, he left his door ajar. It might be foolish to hope, but if Arabella needed anything during the night, he wanted to be the first to know so he could be there for her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Horse hooves clopping past her window woke Arabella from a deep, dreamless sleep. She blinked at the shadowed, unfamiliar room around her, taking a long, terrified moment to remember where she was. Once she had, her panic subsided quickly. She’d fled to Lord Rothwell’s home last night. She’d sought safety with one of London’s most notorious rogues and had slept the whole night alone as if she were in her own bed. If she had not lived the experience, she might not have believed it possible.

She stared at the faded blue linen canopy above her as a tear fell from the corner of her eye and slid over her cheek. She wiped it away furiously, determined not to cry again. Farnsworth wasn’t worth shedding another tear over. She still could not believe what he’d attempted and she considered herself fortunate to have gotten away when she had. Even if she were ruined in society’s eyes by being in Lord Rothwell’s home, it was much better to think of herself as his lover than Farnsworth’s property, to be discarded because he blamed her for Cecily’s behavior and wouldn’t bear the small expense of her upkeep.

Arabella took a deep breath and slowly sat up. Her jaw ached when she yawned and she tested the skin there, finding tenderness and perhaps some swelling. She climbed from the bed and hurried to the mirror, peering at herself in the poor light. A battered stranger in a man’s borrowed nightshirt stared back, lifting her hand to her mouth to bury a cry that burned her throat.

Arabella closed her eyes to block out what Farnsworth had done. She couldn’t let anyone see her like this. They would ask questions about last night. She didn’t want anyone to know she’d been so utterly powerless. Determined to hide, she climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over her head. She would stay here all day, for several days in fact, until she was presentable again. At least then she might have an idea of where to go. As it was, her mind would not settle on any one person to trust. The only thing she felt certain of right now was that her present location was the safest place she knew.

A scratch at the door had her pulling the sheets tighter about her.

“Lady Farnsworth, would you care to break your fast?”

The voice of the kind man from last night, Holland, soothed her a little, but she still did not want to be seen. She remained silent, hoping he would go away and forget she was here at all. He knocked again and then the sounds ceased.

After a time, when she’d grown uncomfortably warm beneath the blankets, Arabella threw them off her face. She was being childish and fearful, two traits she rarely admired. It was not the man’s fault she wasn’t fit to be seen. She should have answered him and suggested he come back later. Much later, in fact. A whole week would do.

The scratch came again. “Arabella? We know you’re awake.”

Rothwell. She bolted upright and grimaced at the idea of him seeing her like this. She glanced at her ruined dress where she’d hung it across the chair to dry and shuddered. It needed much work to be presentable by anyone’s standards. She’d been too shocked to consider how she might have appeared last night, but hoped he had not paid too much attention to her ragged appearance. Since Rothwell always gravitated to the finest looking women at a ball or party, she dreaded the revulsion she would see on his face this morning. The knock came again.

She could not ignore the earl. “Yes, I’m awake.”

“Good.” The door handle rattled but thankfully did not open immediately. “Holland would like to deliver a few necessities for your comfort. May my staff come in?”

Arabella slid down the bed again, hands on the edges of the sheet, ready to cover her face when the door opened. “Oh, very well.”

She tossed the covers over her head and lay still as china rattled beyond her safe cocoon beneath the blankets. Other footsteps came and went. Water poured as if from buckets into a tub. The comforter covering her twitched as if someone had touched the bed. She stiffened, wondering what was going on, but dared not look for fear of letting someone see her so battered. When nothing else happened, she calmed herself. Rothwell had promised she was safe.

After a time, the footsteps filed out, and the door handle rattled again. “They will not come again until you ring for someone to attend you,” Rothwell informed her in a kind tone that brought warmth to her cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment. “I have to go out for a while. I thought it best to keep up appearances as if nothing untoward had occurred, but call if you need anything. Holland will deliver whatever you request.”

The door closed with a soft click, and Arabella lowered the sheet carefully, checking that she was indeed alone again. Alone again, but not forgotten. A feast covered the dressing table, a bath of steaming water sat before the fireplace. On her bed lay a peach-colored day gown she had never seen before and a few wrapped packages. She darted a glance at the chair and saw her poor ruined dress had been taken away. Rothwell had provided her with the means to dress for the day. She covered her face as her true situation struck her forcefully. She had nothing. Had no one now. Had it not been for Rothwell’s aid, she did not know what would have become of her last night. She pressed her hand to her eyes and held back further tears.

She had to put herself back together again. The situation wasn’t completely hopeless. For now, she was dry and warm and by all appearances would be well fed. Arabella would not let her host’s generosity go to waste. She hurried to the door and locked it, as she’d neglected to do last night before sleep claimed her, and then she slipped off the borrowed nightshirt, shivering a little as she stepped into the warm water. She scrubbed her skin, washing away the terror of the night before with masculine-scented soap. She raised the bar to her nose and inhaled, liking the fragrance of sandalwood more because she recognized it as Rothwell’s own. When she was clean and dry and bundled in a man-sized banyan while her hair dried, she inspected her small world and found nothing wanting.

The hot chocolate was warm enough to still be delicious; the bread rolls were cold but appetizing. She ate slowly because her jaw tingled with pain whenever she bit down with any enthusiasm. Arabella experimentally tapped at her teeth and discovered one to be the source of her discomfort. She was lucky not to have lost it completely when Farnsworth had struck her so hard that her head had spun. The one thing she’d feared most of all until yesterday was to have a tooth pulled.