Page 16 of A Reckless Courtship (A Chronicle of Misadventures #3)

16

ARABELLA

A rabella had noticed something odd: she had begun to measure time in the number of days since she had last seen Mr. Hayes.

The count was currently four. Four long, interminable days. At Wetley, Arabella had become accustomed to spending weeks without anything of note taking place beyond a severe rainstorm or one of her sisters falling in the fish pond. This had never bothered her then.

Yet, here in London—the place she had dreamed of seeing for years—she found herself making visits to notable members of the ton and attending evening parties, then returning home at night feeling a sense of emptiness for no other reason than that she had not seen Mr. Hayes.

Her one consolation, if consolation it was, was that he had made an appearance in her dreams more than once.

On the first night since the barge cruise that they had not attended an evening engagement, Arabella sat down to dine at home with Felicity and Aunt Louisa. When the front door opened before they had even begun to eat, she cocked an ear, hoping to hear Mr. Fairchild’s voice—and preferably Mr. Hayes’s as well.

But it was Papa who said to one of the servants, “Set two more places at the table.”

Aunt Louisa, who had been quite relaxed before, sat up straighter in her seat at the sound, while Arabella and Felicity exchanged curious looks.

Who was the second seat for?

They were not obliged to wait long to find out, for the door opened moments later, and Papa walked in, followed by a stranger.

The man was of average height and build, with hair of a reddish hue, except at his temples, where it had begun to gray. His eyes, an unexceptional shade of brown, flicked from Aunt Louisa to Arabella, then to Felicity, where they lingered for a moment.

He smiled slightly, and Arabella looked at her cousin to see whether she recognized him.

As she met his eye, however, Felicity wore an expression so distinctly unapproachable and unrecognizing that Arabella was hard-pressed not to laugh.

Papa came over to Arabella directly and kissed her on the top of her head, just as he always did after returning from a journey. “Good evening, my dear. I wish to introduce you—all of you—to Lord Farnham, who will be joining us for dinner.”

It took Lord Farnham a moment to respond to this, for he seemed to be occupied with the realization that Arabella rather than Felicity was meant to be the subject of his interest.

He cleared his throat and smiled at Arabella, then approached her and put out his gloved hand in expectation. Her own hand was bare from having removed her gloves for dinner.

She glanced at Papa, then offered her hand to Lord Farnham.

He bowed over it, then placed a kiss upon the back. It was long and elicited a small shudder from Arabella, for it was—there was simply no other way to describe it—wet.

He released her hand and stood to his full height, and she suppressed the urge to wipe the back of her hand on her skirts. The moment she had taken her seat, however, she subtly removed the evidence of his greeting.

A footman set places for Papa and Lord Farnham, and Papa sat beside Felicity, while Lord Farnham took the place on Arabella’s right.

Felicity caught Arabella’s gaze from across the table, her own widening significantly.

“How was the journey from Barrington?” Arabella asked politely as Lord Farnham served her three heaping spoonfuls of peas, a food she did not at all care for.

“Happily without incident,” Papa said.

“How fortunate,” Arabella said with a smile. “And where do you reside, Lord Farnham?”

“Just outside of Manchester,” he said.

“Ah,” Arabella said politely, her mind returning to her own visit there and how much she had disliked it.

Lord Farnham was not put off by her lackluster response, however, and proceeded to speak about his estate and its convenient placement near Manchester for the next five minutes, with neither prompting nor interruption.

Arabella did her best to seem interested, but she found her mind wandering into more appealing avenues. Most of those avenues featured Mr. Hayes, she noticed.

Lord Farnham eventually finished his monologue, but he seemed to have taken all the words, as no one could find anything to respond beyond a polite “How nice” from Arabella and “It sounds lovely” from Aunt Louisa.

The silverware clanked loudly as the silence stretched on. Arabella nudged Felicity’s foot with hers, hoping her cousin would shoulder a bit of the conversational burden.

Felicity shot her an unwilling look, but Arabella held her gaze speakingly.

Felicity sighed softly, surrendering to her cousin’s distress signal. “Bella has plans to design the display window in her father’s shop window in Burlington Arcade,” she said brightly.

Lord Farnham had a spoonful of food halfway to his mouth, but it stopped, and his eyes flitted to Arabella beside him. He lowered the spoon. “Design a display?” he said, as though the concept was entirely foreign. Given how boring was his manner of dress, she was not surprised.

Arabella looked at Felicity for a moment to subtly manifest her displeasure with the choice of conversation, then responded to Lord Farnham. “I enjoy fashion very much and have been hoping to try my hand at something new.”

Lord Farnham frowned. “Is that not the task of a shopkeeper or his assistant?”

Papa laughed, though there was a forced quality to it as he patted Felicity’s hand. “My niece is getting a bit ahead of things. Arabella and I have discussed the display, but nothing is set in stone yet.” His gaze flitted to her, and the way his eyes held hers told her this was not a topic he wished to pursue at the moment.

“Speaking of displays,” Aunt Louisa said, “have either of you seen the one at The Royal Academy of Arts?”

The conversation turned, and soon Lord Farnham was speaking of a particular sculpture at the Academy.

Arabella listened with interest, for she enjoyed sculptures, but Lord Farnham somehow called that interest into question with the impressive length at which he spoke on the subject.

He was intelligent and well-spoken, and there was nothing unkind about him, and yet Arabella’s mind took her to the evening she had spent at this same table with Mr. Hayes. She could have sat beside him for hours without tiring. Perhaps even more importantly, they could have sat in silence without the oppressive awkwardness that reigned when Lord Farnham’s soliloquy expended itself.

Lord Farnham stayed for three days. Each morning in the breakfast room and each evening at dinner, he insisted upon kissing Arabella’s hand in the same manner he had done upon their first meeting.

She took to keeping her gloves on at mealtimes.

“It is still wet,” she said, showing the damp spot on the back of her glove to Felicity as they entered the drawing room while Papa and Lord Farnham had their port.

Aunt Louisa had retired for the evening with a headache—something she had become alarmingly prone to since Lord Farnham’s arrival. She could not abide his long speeches.

Felicity regarded the spot with distaste. “You cannot mean to marry that man, Bella.”

Arabella sighed as she took her seat. “Once he has left in the morning, I will speak with Papa and tell him how I feel.”

Felicity did not look convinced that this would accomplish anything. “If you dislike Farnham kissing your gloved hand, can you fathom how it would be to be kissed by him—and only him—on the lips?” She gave a shudder.

Arabella suppressed one herself. “The prospect of sharing such an experience with Lord Farnham is certainly not appealing.”

“An understatement of immense proportions! If you must marry Farnham, at the very least you should experience a proper kiss. I cannot stomach the thought of you living the rest of your life without knowing what it should be like.”

Arabella gave an incredulous laugh. “What exactly do you propose?”

“A kiss, of course,” Felicity said impatiently. “Would you not like to kiss Mr. Hayes?”

Arabella stood abruptly, her cheeks burning, for just last night, she had dreamed of precisely that.

“Of course you would,” Felicity said, rising to her feet. “And there is no question in my mind that he would very much like to oblige.”

“Felicity,” Arabella said censoriously, “you cannot be serious.”

“I have never been more so! Surely you do not mean to pretend you have no feelings for him, Bella.” Felicity stared at her challengingly.

“I…I do regard him highly,” Arabella admitted, shuffling through music at the piano to occupy herself.

“Yet another understatement of immense proportions. I have seen you together enough to know that you have likely imagined kissing him at least a handful of times. Do not turn away, Bella. There is nothing to be ashamed of. I would be concerned if you had not imagined it.”

Arabella reluctantly faced her cousin again, well aware that her face was as red as the beet soup they had eaten for dinner.

“Am I correct in my assumption?” Felicity pressed.

Arabella hesitated. “Perhaps…”

Felicity grinned, gripping her by the arms. “Then kiss him, Bella! No one should have to marry without experiencing the joy of kissing a man who makes her heart flutter.”

Arabella’s heart was certainly doing that.

Felicity began to pace, a thoughtful hand at her lips. “You and Mr. Hayes will need the right opportunity, of course…plenty of time alone to?—”

“Felicity,” Arabella interrupted, her heart pattering at the picture her cousin was painting. “You speak as though my marriage to Lord Farnham is a foregone conclusion, but it is not. I will speak with Papa tomorrow, and then there will be no need for such plans or stratagems.”

But as Papa and Lord Farnham joined them ten minutes later, kissing Mr. Hayes was all she could think about.

Lord Farnham departed late the next morning, leaving behind him a final—Arabella prayed—damp spot on her kid gloves.

She, Felicity, and Aunt Louisa were set to take a walk in the Park, but Arabella was too impatient to wait to speak with Papa until after, so she asked them to grant her ten minutes.

He was in the study, poring over a sheaf of papers, but when he heard her enter, he shuffled them together and set them in the drawer.

“Ah,” he said, “I was hoping to speak with you.”

“And I you,” she said, feeling suddenly nervous.

“Have a seat, then,” he said, nodding at the chair across from the desk.

She sat and clasped her hands in her lap, trying to gather her courage. It had felt much easier to express her sentiments when she had been speaking with Felicity yesterday.

“I think that went quite well,” Papa said. “Farnham seems very taken with you, my dear. Not that it is any surprise.” He regarded her with a smile.

She looked down at her hands, glancing at the fading spot. It was enough to give her the needed resolve. “Papa, shall you be very disappointed if I do not wish to marry him?”

Silence met this question, and she brought her gaze up.

His brow was knit, his expression intent. “Why would you not wish for that? Farnham is an earl, Arabella, from an established family with considerable wealth. He could care for you in the way you deserve—in the way to which you are accustomed. What have you against him?”

“I have nothing against him,” she said. “It is merely that I do not think…” She paused, trying to choose her words carefully. “I simply do not think we suit.”

Papa’s brows snapped together. “Suit? Of course you suit. What would possess you to say such a thing?”

“He is perfectly respectable, of course, and I am certain he will make some young woman very happy, but I do not think I am that young woman. We share no common interests.”

“Arabella,” Papa said with a hint of impatience, “you cannot comprehend the lengths to which I have gone for your happiness. For years, I have sacrificed and saved, putting my own interests aside for the sake of ensuring your education and your marriage portion so that I could be certain you would be properly cared for when the time came for you to marry.”

She sat on the edge of her seat, eager to reassure him. “I quite understand that, and I am eternally grateful for it. Please do not think otherwise.”

His deep frown lingered. “How can I not think otherwise when I provide you with the perfect match and you hesitate because of…what? A fear you do not share common interests with the gentleman I selected with utmost care and concern? Do you expect that there are a bevy of earls and viscounts with a burning interest in dinner gowns and taffeta? Or that, if there were, they would be unmarried, with estates not leveraged to the hilt?”

“Of course not.”

“Then please explain to me, Arabella: what interests do you expect to share with your husband?”

She met his gaze and swallowed. How could she possibly explain to him that it was not any particular defect in Lord Farnham that made the thought of marriage so distasteful to her? He might have had an obsession with fabrics or have known every issue of La Belle Assemblée , and she would not have wished to marry him.

Now that she knew what it was to converse so easily and happily with a gentleman, to search every crowd for his face, to see him when her eyes were closed as easily as she did when they were open…she did not know how to wish for anything less in the man she married.

Papa awaited a response, but she had none to give. She could not bring herself to tell him that, after everything he had done for her, the only person she could fathom marrying was the untitled man who had not even been able to bring himself to meet Papa.

“Arabella, you are young. It is natural for you to feel nervous at the prospect of marriage, but surely you understand that I want the best for you? I have decades of experience beyond yours. You must trust that I know what is right for you. Everything I do, I do for you.”

Her stomach swam with guilt and dread, but she nodded.

“I trust this hesitation is not the doing of your cousin,” he said with a hint of severity. “Felicity seems to harbor a great many romantic ideals. Do not make the mistake of prioritizing a hope of some silly infatuation over the things that truly matter in a marriage. Infatuation will inevitably run its course, and it so often turns to dislike.”

Arabella still said nothing, for she was torn. Papa was right. She did not have experience. The entire world of friendship and courting was new to her. Perhaps her life would be most agreeable with Lord Farnham. Perhaps what she felt for Mr. Hayes was only infatuation.

And yet, could she ever grow to dislike him? It seemed impossible.

“Might I have time to…consider things?” she asked.

Papa’s lips pursed. “What is there to consider? Do you not trust me?”

“I do,” she hurried to say.

But did she? If she truly trusted him, would she not have let him guide her?

“Opportunities like a match with Lord Farnham do not come along often, Arabella. He is eager to move forward, and so am I. It will not do to make him wait.”

Arabella’s heart began to thud, and a sense of panic filtered through her. It seemed he meant for her to become engaged to Lord Farnham soon. “I simply feel…unready. It has all happened so fast.”

Papa sighed, regarding her with concern. “It has certainly happened more quickly than I had anticipated. There is nothing to be done about that, however. I promised Farnham we would speak on the matter before he returns to Manchester. I would hate for us to be saddled with a lifetime of regret if he slipped through our hands.”

Arabella’s stomach swam. For her part, she was more concerned she would be saddled with regret if he did not slip through their hands.

Papa grimaced sympathetically. “Take a few days, my dear. I shall put him off.”

A sigh of relief burst from her, and she laughed shakily. “Thank you, Papa.”

He winked at her. “Anything for my Arabella.”

There was a knock on the door, and Felicity’s voice came through muffled. “Bella? Are you joining us?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I am coming now.” She looked at Papa. “We are going for a walk in the Park.”

“The fresh air will do you good.”

It certainly felt like liberty to inhale the fresh air at the Park, but she suspected part of that was due to the simple fact that Lord Farnham was gone.

The weight of the future hung over her like dark clouds in the distance, however. It felt as though her days were numbered—a melodramatic thought, perhaps, but she could not help how she felt.

Neither could she help looking for any sign of Mr. Hayes in the Park as they walked the varied paths.

She felt a sense of urgency about seeing him that she could not explain.

Why had he been absent at every recent party? She had been certain she would see him at one, at least.

There are things in my life that I cannot divulge to anyone, much as I may wish to. Things that put me and those around me in danger.

That was the explanation he had given her for why he had not stayed to meet Papa. Was it also why he had not made any appearances recently, despite Mr. Yorke, Mr. Fairchild, and Mr. Drake doing so?

What if she did not see him before she became engaged to Lord Farnham?

She grasped Felicity’s hand.

Her cousin looked at her with confusion as they stood at the edge of a pond, watching the ducks bathe themselves. “What is it?”

“Last night, you spoke of arranging…things for Mr. Hayes and me. Did you truly mean it?”

Felicity’s eyes widened, then lit with sudden energy. “Every word. You may safely leave it to me.”