Arabella (5 page)

             
Arabella was horrified at her sister's suggestion.  She could not think of anything worse than being forced to stay in the country while her husband returned to the pleasures of London, but she suspected that Nan was hoping for an arrangement of this kind.  It was common enough, for men took mistress all the time.  Especially when their wives were breeding.  It was a situation many women had to accept – but to actively encourage it!  No, that would not do for Arabella.   She was looking for a very different marriage, though she was not exactly sure what she expected of her husband.

             
'Well… if it is what you want, I wish you joy of him,' Arabella said.  'But I want something more… exciting.' For a moment she recalled the marquis' offer and some part of her recognised a kindred spirit.  Had he been less arrogant perhaps… but what was she thinking of?  He had made it clear that he was not looking for a wife.

             
'Ladies, may I walk with you?'  The sound of a merry voice made both sisters swing round to face the gentleman who had come up with them unawares.  'What – have you forgot me already?'

             
'Indeed, we have not, my lord,' Arabella cried gladly.  Her heart pumped with sudden excitement as she gazed into his mischievous blue eyes.  'We hoped we might see you here this evening – did we not, Nan?'

             
Nan merely nodded, declining to endorse her sister's welcome.  She glanced towards Lady Mary, who seemed to be in earnest conversation with Sir John, wondering if this encounter might be embarrassing for her.  However, Lady Mary turned at that moment and smiled at them.

             
'Ah, Lord Sylvester.  How pleasant it is to see you.  I collect you have introduced yourself to my cousins.  I might have known you would not let such an opportunity pass.'

             
'Lady Mary, it is always delightful to see you,' he replied and bowed.  'Sir John, I bid you good evening.  I was looking for a party of friends with whom I had engaged to spend the evening and saw you.  What else could I do but throw myself on your mercy?  It seems my friends have not come as they promised.'

             
'Then of course you must join us – you do agree, Sir John?  We cannot allow Sylvester to spend the evening alone.  He may dance with the girls after all, and we two shall sit and watch them.'

Sir John nodded approval of her plan.' Yes, m'dear, that is fortunate, for as you know I am not the best of dancers – though I would have done my duty had it been required.'

              'Well, now you may keep me company instead,' Lady Mary replied, giving him an intimate look that had the desired effect of settling feathers that had been ruffled by Lord Sylvester's appearance on the scene.

             
Arabella sensed that Sir John suspected he had a rival in the younger man for his mistress's attentions, but for some reason of his own he appeared to turn a blind eye.  She believed that he was genuinely fond of her cousin, and thought it a pity that he must marry for the sake of an heir.  Despite what Nan described as her loose morals, Lady Mary was careful of her friend's feelings and seemed to care for him.  They were in Arabella's opinion ideally suited, and would miss each other when he married – unless they intended to carry on their arrangement, perhaps a little more discreetly?

             
They were approaching the supper booths now.  Arabella saw that some of the ladies were masked, and she suspected that they were probably married and keeping an assignation with a lover.  Some of the ladies were openly caressing their companions, and allowing themselves to be fondled rather more intimately than seemed proper to Arabella's mind.

             
She was a romantic, of course, her mother had always said it.  Love should be something that happened in private – perhaps in a wood on a bed of bluebells or primroses.  And with a handsome lover not a half-drunken lecher with foul breath – which was what many of the gentlemen present that evening appeared to her to be.

             
'That was a deep thought,' Harry Sylvester murmured close to her ear.  'Share your thoughts with me, Arabella.  For I have shared mine with you many times these past few days.'

             
The intimate, husky tones of his voice sent shivers through her.  She looked at him, her eyes glowing as she met his burning gaze.

             
'You mean to tease me, sir.'  He was looking at her much in the way Roxbourne had earlier, but she did not mind it in him.  'I dare say you have been too occupied elsewhere to give a thought to me.'

             
'Oh, I gave many more than one,' he assured her.  'You disturbed my sleep, sweet temptress.  I closed my eyes and saw your face and sleep deserted me, for no dream could be sweeter to me.'

             
'I believe you are a wicked rogue just as my cousin said!'

             
'Indeed I am,' he replied and laughed deep in his throat.  'Your cousin did well to warn you of me – but I trust you will not heed her too closely?'

             
'A friend of my cousin's must also be mine.'

             
'Ah, what music that is to my ears.'  His eyes quizzed her.  'Will you dance, Arabella?'

             
'If my cousin gives her permission…' Arabella glanced towards the covered area where some ladies and gentlemen were already indulging in a lively country-dance.  'Of all things I love to dance – but you must ask Nan afterwards.'

             
'Of course.  Come let us waste no time.'

             
He requested permission from Lady Mary, then taking Arabella's hand hurried her so that they were in time to join the next formation.  Arabella laughed and looked up at him, her heart jumping with excitement.  Oh, this was such heaven!  She thrilled to the touch of his hand at her waist, feeling that the evening had suddenly become so much brighter.

             
Harry was amused at her pleasure, insisting that they join the next set and then the next, persuading her each time that they would not be missed.

             
'Your sister will have found a partner long since.'

             
'No, she has not,' Arabella said, glancing guiltily towards the booth at the end of the cotillion.  'You must ask her now – please?'

             
'If you ask it of me,' he replied.  'Then I must – for I can refuse you nothing.'

             
He took Arabella by the hand and began to lead her back towards the booth, but suddenly he pulled her sideways into the shadow of some flowering shrubs, catching her to him in a passionate embrace.  His kiss took Arabella's breath away, and instead of holding him off as she ought, she clung to him, her body melting into his, her head spinning with this new sensation.

             
Now his mouth was at her breasts.  He had pushed down the swathes of fine lace that had given her gown some modesty so that he could flick at the rosy nipples with his tongue.  She gasped as she felt her senses swooning, shivering with delight.  Oh, it felt so good!  It made her want to be held close to him, to feel the burn of his flesh against hers.  He was sucking at her, nibbling and teasing with his tongue, making her faint with pleasure.

             
'So beautiful,' Harry murmured huskily.  'And as fresh as country dew I'll warrant.  You taste of peaches picked straight from the bough, Arabella.  Are you virgin, sweet, lovely Arabella?  I vow it would be a privilege to be the first to lie with you.'

             
His words shocked her so that she recovered her senses and she pulled away from him, fussing with her gown and rearranging the lace at her breasts.

             
'Of course I am,' she said.  'How could you think otherwise?'

             
'I feared it was so,' Harry said and drew back reluctantly.  'You are a sore temptation to a man, Arabella – but Lady Mary would emasculate me if I deflowered you.  And I owe her too many favours to displease her.'

             
Arabella's cheeks were heated as she heard the regret in his voice.  What was she thinking of – allowing him such freedom as if she were a harlot?

             
'You were wrong to take advantage of me, my lord.'

             
'But your eyes begged me to make love to you,' Harry replied.  'How could I ignore your needs?  You are an open book to me, Bella.  You thirst for love and for life, and you cannot bear to wait for anything you want – is that not so?'

             
Arabella smiled reluctantly.  'Am I so easy to read, sir?'

             
'To me at least,' Harry said and grinned at her.  'If you had been born a man you would be just like me, Bella.  Marry your rich cit quickly, my sweet – and then we may indulge ourselves as we please.'

             
'You insult me, sir!'  Arabella's disappointment was so great that she was torn between anger and tears.  He was as bad as Roxbourne!  She turned away from him in some distress.  How could he treat her so disrespectfully?

             
'Nay – do not be offended, sweet mistress,' Harry said, laying a persuasive hand on her arm.  'Forgive me if I made too free with you – but I have burned for you since we first met.  You are the kind of woman that will not let a man rest easy in his bed, Bella.  Yet I cannot marry you.  You have no fortune, and I have little enough.  I am extravagant and I need a wife who will keep me … some grateful little mouse that I can pacify with a kiss and leave to tend the children while I go on my wicked way.  As you see, I am a rogue.'

             
'But you do like me a little?'  She gazed at him, a tearful appeal in her eyes.  'You do not think of me as some lightskirt you would bed for an hour?'

             
'I could never think of you in that way,' he declared instantly.  'I adore you, Arabella.  You are beautiful and I would marry you if I had the means.'

             
'Oh…' She drew her breath in sharply.  'You do care for me.'

             
'As you care for me,' he said and frowned.  'Mayhap there is some way…I have an uncle who might die and leave me his money.  But I must not raise hopes that cannot be fulfilled.'  He held out his hand to her.  'Forgive me.  Come, sweet mistress.  I swear I would give my life to please you, but I must return you to your friends before I lose all reason.'

             
Arabella smiled and took his hand.  He said that he could not marry her, but he loved her… he loved her.  Her heart sang because of it and she knew that she would not give up the fight.  She would find a way to make him change his mind.

CHAPTER THREE

'So – what do you think of them?' Lady Mary asked as her companion heaved his bulk from her and lay back against the pillows, breathing deeply from his exertions.  'For myself I think you would be more comfortable with Nan.  She seems a sensible gel and might suit you.'

              Sir John rolled over on to his side, leaving the bed to retreat behind a dressing screen and relieve himself.  He grunted and broke wind loudly, then went back to the bed before replying.

             
'She is a pretty little thing,' he said and stood staring down at his mistress.  Lady Mary might not be the beauty she had been when she was fresh on the town, but she had a generous nature and always gave of herself in their amorous encounters.  Sir John was no fool and he understood his own shortcomings, but he also knew that this woman accepted him as he was.  She might enjoy an interlude with one of her young lovers, but she never made him feel that his touch was abhorrent to her.  'But she isn't you, Mary.  I'm not sure Mistress Tucker would welcome me to her bed.'

             
'Is that necessary in a wife?' she asked.  'Nan would do her duty by you, my friend – and if she is a little cold you would have no worry that your children were got on her by another man.'  She leaned towards him, reaching out to caress him through the fine linen of his night-gown.  'And you can always come to me if you are lonely, my dear.'

             
Sir John felt his member respond to her caress.  He was a man of healthy appetites, and had chosen his mistress only after careful consideration.  It was her own idea that he should marry one of her cousins and continue their liaison in private.  Something he had thought an excellent suggestion at the time.  However, that was before he'd cast eyes on Miss Arabella.

             
She was a prime piece if ever he'd seen one, and he had already made up his own mind which of the two sisters he would prefer to wed.  However, he did not wish to lose what he already enjoyed, and had no intention of ending his relationship with Lady Mary until he had something better in view.  Not wishing to betray his thoughts to her, he changed the subject and turned to politics.

             
'For the life of me I do not know how His Majesty manages to put up with these damned Whigs.  Since Bute was forced to resign they have become ever more arrogant.'  He climbed into bed, the feather mattress sinking beneath his weight.  'We shall have more trouble with the American colonies before long, mark my words.'

             
Lady Mary was accustomed to his ways.  Obviously he did not wish to discuss the subject of his marriage for the moment, and she acquiesced obligingly as she always did, falling in with his mood.

             
'I thought all that would be settled once Lord Rockingham succeeded Greville and repealed the Stamp Act?'

             
'He has repealed it for the moment, but put the Declaratory Act in its place – which means that some damned idiot will take it into his head to tax them again.  And that's when we shall have trouble.'

             
He reached for her breasts, beginning to fondle them, but before he could press her back into the mattress she knelt up in the bed.

             
'You almost suffocated me the last time,' she said with a teasing laugh.  'Now – shall I straddle you or would you prefer me to kneel?'

             
He gave a shout of pleased laughter and showed her his preference by pulling her down on top of him.  She was an exciting, sensuous woman and he would miss her if their relationship ended, but he would give her up willingly for the chance of bedding that wilful red-haired wench.

             
Yes, he would have Miss Arabella if he could – even if it meant giving up his obliging mistress…

Arabella lay in bed, the events of the previous evening running through her mind.  Beside her, Nan was sleeping peacefully, apparently unmoved by the changes to their circumstances, whereas Arabella's mind was a hive of activity.  She had loved their visit to Vauxhall, though her feelings were mixed concerning Lord Sylvester.

             
Did he truly care for her, or was he merely playing a game with her, hoping to seduce her?  If she once allowed him to go too far her chance of making a good marriage would be over.  Arabella might be reckless and impatient, but she knew that keeping her virtue intact was the only card she held.  If she could make him so mad for her that he threw caution to the winds and…

             
Still half-dreaming of the few heady moments she had spent in his arms, Arabella got up and dressed in a simple wrapping gown.  At home she often walked in the gardens at this hour and saw no reason why she should not do so here.  It was early; the servants would hardly be stirring as yet, and her cousin never left her apartments before noon unless they had an early engagement, which was not often.  Like most fashionable ladies, Lady Mary liked to rest so as to be at her best in the evenings.

             
Arabella was not sure that the life would suit her, though she supposed she would settle in time.  For the moment she had too much energy, and she needed some exercise to rid herself of this restlessness that had come over her.

             
Lady Mary's back garden was quite small and completely walled in, but there was a pretty paved courtyard with a fountain that cascaded into a pool of lilies and a rose arbour.  She amused herself by picking a few scented buds with the dew still on them.  What was it Lord Sylvester had called her?  Something about being as fresh as country dew?  He'd also said she tasted of peaches.

             
It was no use!  She was as restless here as in her bed.  Arabella sighed.  She was foolish to let herself wish for something that might never be hers, yet how could she not?  Even before he'd kissed her, Lord Sylvester had been often in her thoughts and now…

             
'Could you not rest, Miss Arabella?'

             
She turned with a start to see that Sir John had come into the courtyard.  He was fully dressed and she was conscious that her gown was not the proper attire for walking, even in a private garden.

             
'It is my habit to walk early when I am at home,' she told him, a faint blush in her cheeks as she saw the way his eyes seemed to devour her figure beneath the thin gown.  Arabella was well used to gentlemen staring at her in just that way, but she felt embarrassed at being caught dishabille.  'Excuse me, I must go.  I ought not to have come down.'

             
'Nay, do not run off,' Sir John said.  'I am about to leave anyway.  I chanced to see you from the landing window on my way downstairs and came to inquire if you were ill or troubled.  But I shall not stay if my presence disturbs you.'

             
Arabella did not know how to answer him.  She did not wish to offend Lady Mary's protector, but there was no mistaking the look in his eyes.

             
'That was kind of you, sir – but I should go.'

             
He caught at her sleeve as she would have passed him.  'You have no need to fear me, Miss Arabella.  I have seldom met a lady I felt more tender towards.  I would have us be friends if it would please you.  Mayhap more than friends…'

             
Arabella avoided his gaze, not daring to let him look into her eyes lest she betray her dislike of his suggestion.

             
'As Lady Mary's …friend…you must also be mine,' she replied in a subdued tone.  'How could it be otherwise, sir?  I am very grateful to my cousin for all she is doing for us.  I should never wish to offend her, sir.'

             
'Has your cousin told you that I am looking for a wife, Miss Arabella?'

             
Arabella held her breath.  Oh, let him not ask her!

             
'She mentioned something.  I believe it is necessary for you to have an heir, sir?'

             
'Very necessary, for I am the last of my line.  I have a great fortune and an old title, Miss Arabella.  It would be a pity to forfeit either to the Crown – which would be the case if I died intestate or without issue.'

             
'Could you not bequeath your wealth to a friend, sir?'

             
'There is no one I care for sufficiently – at least there was no one until now.'  He cleared his throat.  'I would not embarrass you for the world, Miss Arabella – but will you think kindly of me?  Remember what I have said, and in a little while I may ask something of you.'

             
Arabella made no reply – she could not!  He studied her from beneath hooded lids, then released her arm, bowed his head and walked from the garden.  She felt almost faint with relief as she watched him go.  For a moment she had thought he meant to propose to her and she had dreaded giving him her answer -– which must offend him.

             
She could never marry such a man!  The very thought of being touched intimately by him filled her with disgust.  If he asked she must refuse – but she prayed that he would not.  He must surely have seen that she was reluctant?  Perhaps if she kept her distance and was cool towards him, he would think better of his intention.  For he had come close to declaring himself.  She could only count herself fortunate that he'd held back for reasons of his own – and make certain that he did not again catch her in an awkward situation.

             
Arabella was thoughtful as she returned to the room she shared with Nan.  From now on, she would encourage her sister's pursuit of Sir John.  Perhaps he would decide that he preferred her to Arabella after all.

Gervase allowed his valet to finish shaving him, and then waved him away.

              'You may leave me now, Fitzroy.  I shall not need you until later.'

             
'As you wish, milord.'

             
Gervase sensed the disapproval in his man's voice but it did not weigh with him.  He often chose to dress himself, except when he was going to a fashionable affair when it would have been insulting for him to appear dishabille.  However, it was early and he was restless.  He needed some hard exercise.  He pulled on his immaculate riding boots over silken hose, and tied a casual neckerchief, selecting a plain brown coat that fitted more easily than some of his society clothes.

             
'A country squire, that's what Fitzroy would think of you,' Gervase murmured and grinned as he imagined his faithful servant's displeasure if he saw his master leave the house so carelessly attired.  'Damn it, I need a bruising ride to clear this head.'

             
He needed to get some air into his lungs after the excesses of the previous evening.  He and Jack had left Vauxhall at around ten o'clock, taking themselves off to what was rumoured to be an exciting new gaming club – which had turned out to be a den of iniquity haunted by whores and sharpsters.  Gervase had abandoned his friend, who refused to leave because he had hit a winning streak, walking home alone in the early hours.

             
He was unafraid of the Mohocks who often ran wild through the streets at such an hour, for his skill with the sword was well known amongst the young bucks who loved to terrorise the citizens.  Footpads stayed clear of him, looking for easier pickings, though when in one of the black moods that descended on him from time to time, Gervase would have relished a good fight.

             
He had no idea what had brought on his present mood – unless it was seeing
her
dancing and flirting with Sylvester.  Knowing that particular gentleman for the careless rogue he was, Gervase had been filled with bitter anger at the sight of that lovely girl laughing up at her selfish companion.

             
Were all young girls so foolish that they could not see beyond a handsome face?  He was beginning to think it must be the case.  Helen was not the only innocent that Sylvester had ruined.  Gervase would take heavy odds on there having been others since then – though he was fairly certain that she had been the first.  Sylvester had been twenty-two then.  Eight years on, he was perhaps even more attractive to a young and naïve girl.

             
Damn the wench!  Gervase made an effort to dismiss her from his thoughts.  She was nothing to him, and she had made her indifference plain.  Clearly she preferred the attentions of Sylvester.  If she had not the wit to see beyond that charming smile, she was not worthy of his consideration.

             
Gervase was particular about the women he took as his mistresses from time to time.  There had been no more than three since his return from the army.  He had taken a commission after a terrible row with his father, and returned to another fierce quarrel after Helen's death.

             
The news had shocked him, and he had never ceased to blame himself for what had happened to his sweet sister.  She had been no more than seventeen when Sylvester seduced her, and a few weeks from her eighteenth birthday when she died of her shame at giving birth to an illegitimate child – a child who had also died of neglect on Gervase's father's orders.