Page 18 of A Reckless Courtship (A Chronicle of Misadventures #3)

18

ARABELLA

A rabella had to blink a handful of times before she could fathom what her eyes were seeing.

But they were not deceiving her. Mr. Yorke was truly there.

Her heart and body were even slower to settle as she released the lapels of Mr. Hayes’s tailcoat, one hand still clasping the bracelet, and he dropped his hands to his sides.

Mr. Yorke’s lips pressed into a thin line. When he spoke, his voice was tight. “We must go, Hayes.”

“Go where?” Mr. Hayes responded.

“Urgent business.”

“What sort of?—”

“Now,” Mr. Yorke cut in unceremoniously.

There was a moment of silence as the men seemed to battle with their eyes.

“Miss Easton, your aunt is wondering where you are,” Mr. Yorke said, the chastisement in his voice only marginally less evident than when he had spoken to his friend.

Arabella nodded, the heat the kiss had brought to her body filtering up to her cheeks. “Of course. I shall go to her.”

Mr. Yorke held back the nearest branches for her in unapologetic expectation for her to leave.

Arabella glanced at Mr. Hayes, whose eyes were full of helpless apology.

There was so much more to say—so many questions to be asked—and yet none of it could happen in the presence of Mr. Yorke, so she held Mr. Hayes’s gaze another moment, then walked through the branches and onto the main path, her heart still thumping against her chest.

What would Mr. Yorke do?

Would she and Mr. Hayes be forced to marry to avoid scandal?

The thought was far less unappealing than it should have been. She would have given anything to marry Mr. Hayes, and yet having him forced into it was far from what she wanted.

The thought of Papa learning of her indiscretion was enough to snuff out any remaining desire for such a train of events. It was not only that she would lose the opportunity to design the window display—she would happily sacrifice that for Mr. Hayes—but the disappointment and embarrassment it would cause him.

Aunt Louisa and Felicity were standing with Mr. Drake and Mr. Fairchild a dozen feet from the door of the orangery.

Aunt Louisa whipped around at the sound of the door, and her hand flew to her chest. “Thank heaven!” She hurried over and pulled Arabella to her bosom. “How do you manage to become lost in every garden we frequent, my dear child?” She pulled back and set her hands on Arabella’s arms to look at her properly. “You are not hurt, are you?”

“No, no. I…” She glanced at Felicity, whose gaze was fixed on her, mad with curiosity. She nodded subtly, prompting Arabella to go on. “I…thought I saw one of you go into the orangery, so I followed.”

Aunt Louisa released her and smiled. “Bless you, dear! We have barely moved an inch from where Felicity was stung.”

Arabella’s gaze flicked to her cousin.

When they had reached the orangery, Felicity had claimed to have been stung by a bee. The scream she had let out had been deafening, not to mention the way she had waved her arms about yelling, “They are chasing me!”

Amidst the chaos of Aunt Louisa trying to fend off the supposed attackers, Felicity had hissed to Arabella to go wait for Mr. Hayes inside.

Arabella had been certain she had invented the entire story, but evidently, she had been wrong. There was no mistaking the raised white bump on her finger or the little prick at its center.

“We had better go home,” Aunt Louisa said. “I would like to see a poultice put on her finger as soon as can be managed. We must pray the wound does not become more inflamed on the journey home. Come, my pet.” She wrapped her arm around Felicity’s shoulders and guided her away, assisted by her nephew and Mr. Drake.

Arabella glanced back at the orangery longingly and clasped the bracelet in her hand, but there was nothing for it. She had to follow her aunt.

That did not prevent her mind from reliving the glorious moments amongst the orange and lemon trees as they made their way to the carriage.

There was no chance for discussion in the carriage. Papa had returned by the time they arrived at the townhouse to dine, and Aunt Louisa was with them in the drawing room after dinner, her headaches having mysteriously ceased after Lord Farnham’s departure. It was not until Arabella had dressed for bed that her door opened, and Felicity crept in.

She wore her dressing gown, and her forefinger had been wrapped in a white strip of cloth.

“Oh dear,” Arabella said, striding over and taking her cousin’s hand for inspection. “I had thought the bee sting was only a pretense.”

Felicity merely laughed. “I considered pretending, of course, but if I wanted the diversion to last long enough, naturally, I had to provide evidence of a sting.”

“How did you do it?” Arabella said, torn between wonder and horror.

Felicity shrugged as though it was the most natural thing in the world to plan to be stung by a bee. “It was easy enough. There were a number of bees on that hideous bat flower, so I caught one in my hand and shook it.”

Arabella cringed. “Was it not painful?”

“Agony,” Felicity said, though she was smiling. “Please tell me my sacrifice was not in vain. Were you able to…speak with him?”

The way she said the word speak made it clear she was talking about something far different from speaking.

The thought of the kiss sent a bloom of warmth through Arabella for the hundredth time that day. “I was.”

Felicity did her best to suppress a squeal and pulled Arabella to the bed. “Tell me everything.”

Arabella hesitated. Without Felicity, there would have been no kiss, and yet she was reluctant to attempt to describe just what had happened. There was no way to do so, and even if there had been, it felt…wrong.

The kiss was something she and Mr. Hayes had shared, and she wanted to keep it that way. Their secret—and Mr. Yorke’s, apparently.

Felicity regarded her curiously. “You do not wish to tell me.” She smiled. “I should force you to, you know, for I went to no small trouble to ensure it was possible.”

“Your poor finger.” Arabella cradled it again.

“That is not the only trouble.”

Arabella’s head whipped up. “It is not?”

Felicity’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Did you truly think the orangery would be empty enough for a clandestine meeting?”

Arabella stared, remembering how she and Mr. Hayes had not heard so much as a footstep, apart from the door once opening and then closing immediately after.

“You kept people out?” Arabella asked.

Her cousin nodded, pleased as punch. “I warned everyone on their way in that there was a swarm of angry bees in the vicinity.”

A little snort of laughter escaped Arabella and she covered her mouth, but soon, the two of them were laughing together, clutching their stomachs as their cheeks ached.

When the laughter had expended itself, Arabella sighed and let herself drop back onto her pillow. Felicity followed, letting her head press against Arabella’s as they stared up at the bed hangings.

“What do I do, Felicity?”

“Dream of Mr. Hayes, I imagine.”

Arabella smiled. She would welcome him in her dreams. But she wanted more than dreams of him. “I fear today was a grave mistake.”

“A great deal happened today, Bella. You must be more specific. What was a grave mistake?”

Arabella’s eyes fixed on the yellow silk above, but her mind was at Kew. “Kissing Mr. Hayes.”

Felicity went up onto her elbow and looked down at Arabella. “You think it a mistake?”

Arabella turned her head to meet her cousin’s eye. “How am I ever to be content with anything less than what I had today?”

Felicity’s lips stretched into a smile, then she dropped back onto the pillows, and they lay in silence for a time.

All day, Arabella had been reliving the kiss, her mind and heart concocting ways she could have it again. She had gone so far as hoping Mr. Yorke would arrive at the door and tell Papa what he had witnessed. Surely Papa would demand Mr. Hayes marry Arabella.

“Perhaps Papa would let me marry him,” she said faintly.

Whatever Mr. Hayes thought precluded him from being a proper match for her, it could not be so very bad, could it? He possessed all the hallmarks of a true gentleman, even if he did not have a title or fortune.

She felt Felicity’s eyes upon her and turned. There was sympathy in her expression—or pity, perhaps.

“You do not think so?” Arabella asked.

“Oh, Bella,” Felicity said, “Mr. Hayes is wonderful! But your father would not agree for you to marry him.”

“Even if it ensured my happiness?”

Papa wanted her to be happy. She knew that. And while he had pursued a match for her when he had not known she held anyone in affection, perhaps he would change course once she made it clear that her heart was engaged.

The memory of his expression when she had told him she did not wish to marry Lord Farnham flashed across her mind, and her stomach tightened.

“Would he not come around to Mr. Hayes after seeing how happy he makes me?” Arabella asked.

Felicity’s hand found hers and grasped it. “I would like to think so…” She did not go on, but it was clear there was more.

“But…” Arabella prompted.

“But your father is not known for being particularly tender-hearted, Bella. In fact, quite the opposite.”

Arabella’s brows pulled together, and she turned her body to face her cousin, resting her head on her hand. “What do you mean?”

Felicity’s lip pressed into a line, as though she was reluctant to expound.

“Tell me, Felicity.”

She matched Arabella’s position, resting her head on her palm. “He can be so…exacting. Ruthless at times, even.”

Arabella’s stomach clenched again. “Ruthless is a terrible word. How can you think it of him?”

“Mama has told me plenty of stories. Perhaps you have not seen it because you are such a dutiful daughter.”

A memory flitted into Arabella’s mind of a maid named Sarah whom Papa had dismissed suddenly. His only explanation was that she had “been indiscreet and had to be let go.” Arabella had later overheard a discussion between two of the other housemaids discussing that Sarah had seen something she had not been meant to see and had been dismissed without a reference.

Arabella had disregarded the conversation as servant gossip, but perhaps she had been wrong. Papa had certainly been more volatile of temper since Mama’s death. But that did not mean he was ruthless.

“He is exacting, certainly, but that is only his desire to protect my sisters and me. He feels the weight of his responsibility keenly, and he has no one to share it with.”

Felicity nodded, but she looked far from convinced.

It brought to mind how Mr. Hayes had looked when he had asked if Papa was at Kew. Perhaps it had been the prospect of being found with her unchaperoned, but Arabella could have sworn there had been another element to his urgent question.

“Why not tell your father how you feel?” Felicity asked.

Arabella suppressed the desire to swallow. The thought of revealing her true feelings was more frightening than she cared to admit.

But if there was any possibility it might lead to her ability to be with Mr. Hayes, was it not worth fighting through those fears?

It was late the next morning when Arabella found the opportunity to be alone with Papa.

Felicity had recognized the speaking glance Arabella had given and had asked Aunt Louisa to help her speak with the cook about a different poultice for the bee sting. The two of them had vacated the room, leaving Arabella and Papa alone.

“Quite an adventure you had at Kew,” Papa said.

He had no notion…and she trusted he never would.

“A very unfortunate turn of events.” Arabella’s heart took up a quick pace as Papa returned his gaze to the newspaper, his brow furrowed in concentration. A moment later, however, he set it aside. “Well, my dear. It is time we discussed things, I think.”

“Discussed…things?”

He smiled at her as though she was being coy.

Coy was not the right word, though. Reluctant, certainly.

Papa smoothed the paper beside him. “We agreed you should have a few days to accustom yourself to the idea of marriage, and you have had more than a few—eight, in fact.”

“Has it been that long? It feels as though it was just yesterday Lord Farnham was here.” She gave an unsteady laugh.

Papa seemed unamused. “Do you mean to say you are still unready?”

Her heart pounded against her chest, but this was her opportunity to test the waters. “In truth, I do not know that I shall ever be anything but unready, Papa.”

His jaw tightened and something flickered in his expression, and immediately Arabella thought of the word ruthless . But the ghost of whatever it had been was replaced by a smile. “What of your dream for the shop window? Have you forgotten it?”

In truth, it had drifted to the back of her mind. But that did not mean she had forgotten it or no longer wished for it. The truth was, she selfishly wished to have everything her heart desired: the shop window, Mr. Hayes, and Papa’s approval. “No.”

“We agreed, did we not, that fulfilling such a dream would come only if you proved yourself?”

Her stomach swarmed. Did he mean to say she would not be permitted to design the window unless she married Lord Farnham?

“Naturally, I wish for you to be able to do precisely that. Your happiness is of paramount importance to me, my dear. You cannot doubt that.”

“No, Papa.” He did care about her happiness. They simply disagreed on what would bring it about.

“We must work together to make a future with which you will be content. Am I thrilled with the idea of the shop window? Hardly. And yet, I have agreed to entertain the idea. But what sort of father would I be if I allowed my daughter—one who is not yet wise to the ways of the world—to forego a blindingly brilliant match merely because she feels unready?”

He let that thought simmer for a moment before continuing. “No one is particularly ready for marriage, Arabella. It is a leap into an unknown which can only become known and comfortable through lived experience.”

Her mind and tongue fought over a response. If what he said was true, why was the thought of marriage to Lord Farnham increasingly repulsive to her, while the thought of marriage to Mr. Hayes grew inside her like hunger?

“Lord Farnham is returning to Town tomorrow,” Papa said. “I intend to write to arrange a meeting to discuss particulars. I will inform you once I have a response from him.” He stood. “I must go fulfill my parliamentary duties.” He came over and placed a kiss upon her head. “It is all for you, my dear.”

Arabella stared blankly at the crumbs on her plate, and within moments, the door closed behind him.

All Arabella knew was that she needed to see Mr. Hayes again, and she knew who could help her arrange it.

Whether Mr. Hayes would agree to see her was a question that could only be answered by posing it to him. He had been so adamant that nothing was possible between them. When he had kissed her, it had been a result of her asking—nay, begging—him to do so. Not that he had seemed at all reluctant… He had been clear in both word and deed that he cared for her.

She had to hope those feelings would be enough to make him agree to see her again.