You cant cheat death, p.5
The Earl's Heiress, page 5
Good God. Had he completely lost his senses?
It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. He wanted more. He had scooped her into his arms and carried her to her bedchamber, laid her on the bed and ravished her until they collapsed in exhaustion. He would take her slowly and wickedly, enjoying her at his leisure. He would capture her soft sighs and moans with his kisses.
No other woman had ever affected him in this way, and it was unnerving. He had almost jumped from his chair when she touched him, but he asked her to walk in the garden to save himself the embarrassment.
Temple had wondered how he would feel when he saw her again. Was it a fleeting attraction, or was it something more? Now, he knew for certain it was more. He was safe in the knowledge that being with her would be more than meeting his duty because she made his heart race.
“It was remiss of me not to ask you about your horse that bolted.”
“It is kind of you to enquire. You may recall he ran away without control, but I believe it was because of the thunder. Unfortunately, he crashed into a few trees and then a fence. He broke two knees and had to be … had to be put down.” The tears shimmered in her eyes, and now it was her turn to try to blink them away.
“I’m truly sorry.” He said with all the empathy he felt.
They rounded a bend among the hedges, and they were shielded from Gertrude for a moment. He stopped and faced Arabella just as she swallowed hard, fighting back the tears. She didn’t succeed, and a tear ran slowly down her cheek. Temple raised his hand, cupped her cheek, and used his thumb to brush the tear away. Her lips trembled. He wanted to take her in his arms, rest her head against his chest and stroke her hair, but instead, he took a step back. It wasn’t a moment too soon because Gertrude rounded the bend.
They resumed walking down the path before she spoke. “I could have fared much worse, such as broken bones, being trampled on, or even losing my life. Death takes from us the familiar faces of those we love and esteem. I can’t imagine how much it would have devastated my family.”
“I know the feeling all too well.”
“How insensitive of me. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to resurrect painful memories.” She was sincere.
“It’s quite all right. I will tell you now because you will hear it. I supposedly killed my father. Murdered him to gain the title, having been too impatient to wait for it to happen naturally.” Temple didn’t know what possessed him to be so open about something he would much rather forget. Somehow, he felt that he could tell her anything.
“What a horrid thing to say.”
“By the time I found him, he was no longer alive. The person I most wanted to please was no more, and I would never receive the approval I craved. The vile rumors were just a twist of the knife.”
Whenever Temple thought of his father’s death, he imagined how things might have unfolded differently. He played their last conversation over and over in his mind and came to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, he could have done something that would have changed the outcome. He ought to have apologized for his harsh words or been there with his father when it happened. Perhaps he could have saved him if he had gotten to him sooner. He hadn’t killed his father in the way the haut ton believed, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about the ‘what if’. He couldn’t hide from the guilt and the feeling that he bore some responsibility.
There was a flash of annoyance in her eyes. “I’m sure you don’t pay any attention to the slander and sensationalism. Exaggerations and distortions are far more titillating than the truth. I have a mind of my own, and I’m quite capable of using it. I’ve always been reluctant to believe every piece of idle chatter I hear. I will form my own opinion about you.”
“I am a man of integrity and principle, but that doesn’t seem to count for much. Some of these tales are preposterous, yet many so easily believe them. I’m afraid it is hard to ignore the little bird that flutters throughout the haut ton because idle chatter is just as damaging as a full-blown scandal. One could be ostracized even if there is no evidence of immoral conduct.”
“That is why you sought to protect me.”
“Indeed. You would never have achieved your goal of being a part of society. You would have been ruined.”
“It’s rather unfortunate to live this way, wouldn't you say?”
“Yes. Sadly, it is the world that we live in.”
“So, I should thank you for not only saving my life but also my reputation.”
“No thanks are necessary. We know what society expects of us, but I want to know how you feel. We don’t know each other and I would like to rectify that. We can announce our engagement but not rush the wedding. It would give us the time we need.”
“I would be pleased with such an arrangement.”
“Then it is settled.”
“Yes, but there is something else.”
“What is it?”
“The Americans and British tend to largely adopt the same social standards. We dress alike, invest alike, spend our money alike and, in general, think alike. Nevertheless, I don’t wish for my husband to take a mistress.”
Temple was taken aback by the sudden change in the direction of the conversation. Her boldness had no limit. Temple coughed. “A gentleman does not discuss taking a mistress with his intended or his wife.”
“There is nothing to discuss. I was merely making my position clear.”
The audacity of the woman!
“I’m not sure how you do things in America, but here, wives don’t dictate to their husbands. The duty of a wife is to obey her husband. You do know the vows, don’t you? To love, honor, and obey.”
“So, you believe marriage is to subjugate your wife.”
“I am not the one who wrote the law. It is what guides –”
“A husband should always be ready to sacrifice his personal pleasure for the future well-being of those who have the first and best claim to his regard. Do you not think this should be his wife and later his children?”
“Your way of thinking will put you at odds with the very society you strive to gain your place in.”
“Have you considered that I’m leaving my father’s house and my friends, giving up the society that endeared me from birth? In doing so, I’m entrusting my husband with my heart and my happiness.”
“Your heart?”
“Yes. My heart because I always wanted to marry the man I loved.”
“Love? That is incredulous! Our families have a say in our marriage. You know very well that people of our station don’t marry for love. In this marriage, you bring a generous dowery, which is an enticement for the marriage.”
Arabella reacted as if she had been slapped, but Temple believed she had to be told. He had no illusions about their union. Her back stiffened, and she stood taller.
“I would like to return to the house now.” Arabella’s voice was clipped.
“As you wish.”
They walked to the house in silence. Temple knew that he was right so he didn’t understand why he felt like such a cad. He entered the residence to issue an invitation for the family to have an extended visit to Stanford Hall. It was promptly accepted, but all he could think about was Arabella’s blue eyes when he said her dowery was an enticement to marriage. He was just stating the obvious. It was a fact, but he had seen the pain flash within the icy depths as her eyes bored into him. Perhaps he should have been gentler because he truly didn’t want to hurt her. Temple took his leave.
Duty would insist upon his marriage, and he accepted it. He was pleased to spend with Miss Arabella despite their disagreement. He hadn’t enjoyed much of anything since his father died. He withdrew from public life and didn’t attend the House of Commons. His pending marriage and reentry into society gave him a sense of purpose. He had the impetuous to restore the family fortune and to produce an heir.
Arabella wanted love, but love was not a necessary ingredient for a marriage. He wouldn’t love her, but he would care for her. There was a niggling question in the back of his mind, and it was one for which he had no answer. What if caring for her wasn’t enough? What then?
CHAPTER 7
Stanford Hall
No one had ever spoken to Arabella as if she were a spoilt child who had been indulged all her life and was faced with a reality that she refused to accept. She had done nothing but express her opinion, which she was entitled to do, but she felt Lord Stanford had reprimanded her. How could he not understand that love was an integral part of her happiness? It didn’t seem to matter how she felt because Mama, Papa and Lord Stanford felt the same.
They had arrived at Stanford Hall two days earlier. Mama was so pleased about the invitation that she wanted to leave immediately, but Papa had cautioned her to wait. He wanted to conclude the negotiations of the marriage contract before they departed, and apparently, he was satisfied. She didn’t know all the details, but she hoped to find out.
It was late in the evening and Arabella was waiting in the woods on the left of the long driveway to Stanford Hall. She was dressed in male garments. Her hair was plaited and neatly tucked under a hat. Her curiosity spurred her into action and tonight called for an investigation. She noticed that on the last two nights after dinner Temple disappeared. She sat by her window, which overlooked the beautifully manicured lawns and garden as well as the driveway. He had not returned for many hours and she was determined to find out where he went.
As if on cue, she heard the rumbling of his carriage down the driveway, and she waited until it was at a discrete distance before she followed. Arabella rode closely enough behind the carriage to ensure she would not lose it, yet not so close that she would be spotted. She was relieved that it was a clear night because darkness would have made the journey impossible. Memories of the rainstorm were still fresh in her memory. She listened to the familiar sounds of the night and inhaled the fresh air. Her heart was beating faster, and she anticipated what she was about to discover would not be pleasant. By the end of the night, she would know if he had a mistress and who the woman was.
Lord Stanford had made it clear that he was enticed by her money, and there was no room for love. Could it be that he was in love with someone else? Had he chosen her to be his dutiful wife who would restore his estate and provide him with children yet chose a mistress to give his heart to? She recalled his tenderness in the garden and found it at odds with his callous disregard for her request not to have a mistress. When the tears ran down her cheeks, with a fleeting touch, he brushed them away. A radiating heat moved down her cheeks, and she shivered. Arabella liked the feel of his hand on her, skin to skin, and she wanted to reach up and hold his hand against her cheek. She would have if Gertrude had not arrived. She couldn’t bear the thought of those hands caressing another woman.
Arabella’s feelings for Lord Stanford were anything but consistent. He was kind and compassionate when he rescued her. He seemed to have a sense of duty and the need to ensure that he did whatever was right. Yet, he dismissed her feelings about love and refused to say he would not keep a mistress. It was infuriating, yet she wanted him to kiss her. Never before had she experienced such an acute awareness of a man, nor had she felt this yearning unfurling within her.
The carriage turned off to the right and when Arabella arrived at the fork in the road, she could make out lights ahead. It appeared that Lord Stanford was only traveling to a neighboring estate. As they grew closer to the grand mansion, there seemed to be an air of festivity, and Arabella could see people milling around through the large sash windows. She quickly hid in the shadows of the pristine hedge that bordered the driveway as the carriage pulled up and Lord Stanford disembarked. He bounded up the stairs, where his hat and coat were taken at the door. Arabella realized that she couldn’t go inside. She wasn’t appropriately dressed for the occasion and wouldn’t be able to fool anyone. It didn’t really matter as the windows were well-illuminated, so she would get closer and still be able to see what was going on inside.
As she drew closer, she rounded the corner of the house, and the soft sound of music and excited chatter greeted her. She walked up to the window, trampling a few flowers in the process, and peered into the drawing room. A gasp escaped her lips. Arabella had never seen so much of another woman’s flesh uncovered. On the contrary, women were always well-clothed, although she believed women wore too many garments. The women were singing and doing a seductive dance with feathers covering their derriere and … On second glance, she realized that one of the women wore flesh-colored silk hosiery that did little to conceal her curves.
Good heavens!
Arabella was both scandalized, thrilled and … excited. She rested a hand on her chest, and her heart was beating so fast it threatened her chest. The women continued their seductive movements, and all eyes in the room were trained on them. The hosiery was an ingenious coup, giving the impression of naked flesh while remaining covered by the sheer layer. The women stopped singing and said something that caused the crowd to laugh, but Arabella could not hear what it was. She recognized the performance was burlesque. She had heard about it, yet she never thought she would see staging, and a private show at that.
“You. What are you doing there?”
Arabella froze for a moment before she spun around and came face to face with the butler, who took Lord Stanford’s coat. She had been caught red-handed, and she didn’t quite know how she was going to explain it. She was always getting herself into scrapes. Her best-laid plans had gone to hell because she hadn’t thought about what to do if she got caught. Nobody ever plans on getting caught. She couldn’t tell the last time she was rendered speechless.
“I’m waiting, lad. What are you doing there?”
Arabella deepened her voice as best she could. “I fear I have no excuse for being here other than my curiosity, sir.”
“And you expect me to believe that, do you?”
“It is only the truth.” She declared.
“It is more likely you’re a thief, and I will let my lord decide what should be done with you.”
The butler took a few determined steps and reached for her, but Arabella swatted his hand away. She was indignant. “I’m no thief!”
She looked over the butler’s shoulder to see a few well-dressed gentlemen approaching. Her heart sank with dread. Her time in England was not going very well. She had only barely managed to avert one scandal, which was no fault of her own, only to find herself skirting another. She couldn’t blame anyone but herself for this one. She needed to think and fast. As the gentlemen grew closer, she realized one of them was Lord Stanford.
Damnation! He would witness her humiliation.
The sight of Lord Stanford made her forget the plan she had been formulating. They stopped behind the butler, and several pairs of eyes surveyed her. A noble-looking man glared at her, although he directed his question to the butler. “What is the meaning of this?”
She could feel Lord Standford’s heavy stare but did not look in his direction. Instead, she gazed at the butler, who appeared smug.
“I was trying to find out, Your Grace. I believe the lad is a thief.”
He was a duke. Of all the people Arabella could rile up, she chose one of the most powerful aristocrats. Good Lord.
She struggled to stop her voice from trembling. “I have not stolen anything. I’m no thief.”
“We shall see about that. The sheriff will be –.”
Lord Stanford stepped forward. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I have guests at Stanford Hall, and apparently, the lad followed me here. He knew not to ask if he could attend because it was not appropriate for him to be here.” Lord Stanford glared at her, and Arabella quickly dropped her eyes. “I will see the lad home.”
“And give him a stern lecture,” the duke said.
“Absolutely. There will be no repeat of this.”
Arabella heard the underlying warning in his tone. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your festivities, Your Grace.” Was all she could manage through her embarrassment.
The duke seemed satisfied with Lord Stanford's explanation, and they made their way back to the front of the house.
“Wait here,” Lord Stanford said as he went to get the carriage.
Arabella released the breath she had been holding. Lord Stanford had rescued her once more.
Temple had recognized her immediately. Her lips were unmistakable. She could only have fooled someone who had not studied them the way he had. Arabella was frightened that she got caught and rightly so. When her eyes met his, she knew that he saw through her disguise. She had assumed a serene expression as they walked around the house. Here she was, the woman he was to marry, dressed like a man, following him, and skulking around in the night. But why? Temple was a little bemused. Well, more than a little. He couldn’t understand why she would risk riding at night when she had barely gotten over her accident. He pondered for a while but decided he would let her explain it.
He gave instructions to the coachman, who stopped the carriage beside Miss Arabella. Temple almost alighted to assist her, but he stopped himself in time. He didn’t know who was watching, and he didn’t wish to draw any attention to them. The lad could certainly manage to get into the carriage without his assistance. He opened the door, and Miss Arabella boarded, sitting across from him. She met his gaze defiantly, her head held high. Silence descended, yet neither made an effort to speak. Temple wouldn’t say that he was a man who was blessed with patience, but he would employ some now. They were alone, and he could gaze at her at his leisure. She didn’t even look embarrassed.
Finally, she spoke. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I was doing there?”
