Page 4 of A Reckless Courtship (A Chronicle of Misadventures #3)

4

ARABELLA

F elicity and Mr. Drake were searching the area near the Cascade when Felicity’s gaze landed on Arabella. With immense relief, Arabella broke away and hurried to her cousin.

She was not , as Arabella had feared, lost in forbidden paths, her reputation in ruins. She was safe.

“Oh, Bella,” Felicity called, meeting her and throwing her arms around her. “I am so very sorry!” She pulled back, arms still around Arabella, her pretty blue eyes wide with worry and apology. “We thought you were with us! You cannot imagine the terror I felt when I discovered you were not! We went back to search for you, but we could not remember the way we had come, and you were nowhere to be found, so we came here in hopes of finding you. Are you hurt?” Her gaze searched Arabella’s face and body for any sign of injury.

“No,” Arabella replied. “My dress caught on a stray branch and then my mask too. And then two drunken men came along, but thankfully—” She turned toward her rescuer.

He was not there.

She turned all the way around, her eyes searching for the black domino. They found many, but none were of that elegant brocade and none embroidered with gold thread.

“What is it?” Felicity asked, following her gaze.

Arabella’s brows drew together in confusion. Had he abandoned her? Had she imagined it all?

No, that was ridiculous. She would not soon forget the feeling of running away from those drunkards and into his arms. She could still smell the alcohol on the men and the contrastingly fresh and inviting scent of the black domino.

“There was a man,” she said, still looking for any sign of him.

“A man?” Felicity repeated, looking at her intently.

“He protected me from the two drunkards. He escorted me here.” She said the words almost to reassure herself, for the longer she searched the scene without finding him, the more like a dream it all felt.

Felicity’s eyes lit with excitement. “Good heavens! That is terribly romantic! What was his name?”

“I…do not know.” Arabella had asked, but then the fireworks had begun. Disappointment and confusion flickered in her chest. Why had he left without so much as a word?

Before she could ponder further, Mr. Yorke and Mr. Fairchild hurried over, both slightly breathless.

“We made it,” Mr. Yorke said, hunching over and catching his breath with his hands on his knees. “Fairchild here insisted on taking every wrong turn possible.” He shot Fairchild a pretendedly aggrieved look.

“If we had started at the beginning, I would have found it without difficulty,” Mr. Fairchild maintained through gulps of air.

“I should have demanded a formal wager,” Mr. Drake teased. “Miss Fairchild and I have been here a few minutes already, and that was after returning to find Miss Easton.”

“Find her?” Mr. Fairchild repeated. “Was she not with you?”

“She was too busy being rescued by her very own knight in shining armor,” Felicity said with a smile at Arabella.

Arabella’s cheeks warmed. “Hardly. He was wearing a black brocade domino, not armor. But he claimed to know you, Mr. Fairchild.”

“Black brocade?” Mr. Yorke repeated.

Arabella nodded, eager for any information someone might have about the mystery man.

“Was it hideous beyond all belief?” Mr. Yorke asked.

Arabella frowned. “Old-fashioned, perhaps. But made of the highest quality. I thought it quite striking.” Her eyes explored the surrounding area, as though she might have missed it in her previous attempts to locate him. “It stood out.”

Mr. Yorke chuckled. “I should say so! No offense to your father, Fairchild.”

“None taken,” Mr. Fairchild assured him. “There is a reason it has been in that trunk all these years.”

“You know the domino, then?” Felicity asked, impatient of these asides.

“The domino and the man,” Mr. Yorke said. “He is my friend, Hayes.”

Hayes . That was his name. Mr. Hayes.

“He is living with us,” Mr. Drake offered.

Felicity turned to Arabella, her eyes alight. “How fortuitous!” She whirled right back to Mr. Yorke. “What can you tell us about him?”

He drew back slightly at her unexpected enthusiasm, as though she might pounce on him any moment. “Erm, I do not know.”

Felicity merely waited.

Mr. Yorke shrugged. “He is from Devon. His father has sent him here on business, I believe.”

“Business,” Felicity repeated, looking uncertain. “Is he…genteel?”

Mr. Yorke laughed. “Of course. The Hayeses have owned their estate in Devon for generations. They simply choose to keep to themselves.”

Felicity squeezed Arabella’s hand. “A gentleman,” she whispered.

Arabella shot her cousin what she hoped was a dampening look, for Mr. Yorke was watching them with a little furrow of curiosity in his brow.

“Shall we admire the Cascade, then?” Mr. Fairchild suggested.

They all agreed and drew nearer to it. Arabella’s mind was successfully distracted from the elusive Mr. Hayes, for this cascade had no water at all. It was, as Mr. Drake explained, sheets of tin being moved along belts. The motion and sheen gave the appearance of a waterfall, enhanced by the sound of rushing water.

“Where is the sound coming from?” Arabella asked Felicity.

Felicity did not answer, though. She was not even looking at the Cascade.

“What are you looking for?” Arabella asked.

“Your knight, of course,” Felicity said. “How strange that he should disappear so suddenly. It is very mysterious of him.” She turned toward Arabella abruptly, her eyes growing large. “Tell me more of your time with him.”

Arabella thought on the time she had spent with the mysterious rescuer, how he had been so willing to help her but had never insisted on doing so when she had expressed reservations. “He was very chivalrous, though he did tease me a bit.”

“Teased you?” Felicity repeated, her curiosity stoked. She seemed to be reading a great deal into the word tease.

“He did not kiss me, if that is what you are asking. In fact, he promised he would not do so.”

Felicity’s eyes widened further in the slits of her mask. “You discussed it, then?”

“Briefly,” Arabella said, regretting her choice of words.

This did not seem to have the effect she had anticipated.

“But to speak of a kiss is every bit as significant as sharing a kiss! Oh, Bella! I am sorry for leaving you behind, but you must admit, the result is very exciting. Can you only imagine what a story it shall be if you and this Mr. Hayes marry?”

“Felicity,” Arabella said, pleading for reason. “You are being ridiculous.”

“Am I? Stranger things have certainly happened.”

“Undoubtedly, but Papa intends to choose the man I marry.”

“Why can he not choose your Lancelot, then?”

“He is not my Lancelot. His name is not even Lancelot.”

“How do you know?” Felicity smiled enigmatically.

“His name is Mr. Hayes.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Lancelot Hayes,” Felicity said, her eyes glazed over.

Arabella pressed her lips together and sighed. “He helped me. That is all. And he did not even stay to say goodbye. What sort of knight in shining armor would do such a thing?” Just saying the words piqued her pride.

“A very dashing, mysterious one. Perhaps he is rescuing another damsel even now.”

“How very busy of him,” Arabella replied, hearing a hint of resentment in her own voice. It should not bother her, but there had been something almost magical in the entire interaction that felt less so at the idea of him being constantly flitting to the aid of one woman after another.

“I am certain he will find you again,” Felicity reassured her.

“He needn’t bother, though I had hoped to thank him.”

“You shall! I am determined of it.”

Aunt Louisa, when informed of the turn events had taken in the gardens, scooped Arabella to her and embraced her heartily. “Bless that man!”

“It was very kind of him,” Arabella agreed, submitting docilely as a few people looked on with curiosity. “But I am quite well, Aunt.” She preferred not to dwell on what might have happened had Mr. Hayes not been there when she had run from the two men.

Aunt Louisa released her suddenly, her eyes round. “What will we tell your father?”

“There is no harm done,” Arabella said. “We need not worry him unduly.” Papa was already prone to do so, and he had enough on his plate already. Ever since Mama’s death, things seemed to upset him more easily.

“No,” Aunt Louisa agreed with palpable relief. “That is true. No harm done, as you say, though I think perhaps we should be on our way.”

Arabella agreed to this and, surprisingly, Felicity too.

It might be wrong of Arabella to keep the night’s happenings from Papa, but after all, it was through no fault of her own that she had come to be separated from the others, and it had been unintentional on Felicity’s part, as well. It seemed a great unkindness to risk Papa blaming her cousin or her aunt for circumstances beyond their control, particularly when they had merely been trying to ensure Arabella enjoyed herself.

And so she had, even amidst the uncertainties. She would gladly have spent hours more at Vauxhall, taking her time to admire every last foot of it.

There was still no sign of Mr. Hayes when they left the gardens and made their way back to Papa’s townhouse in Mayfair.

Arabella could not keep herself from looking for him when they attended a party the following evening to celebrate the opening of Parliament, but he was not in attendance—at least not that she could tell. Her aunt made a point of introducing her to nearly everyone who had come, and Arabella was certain she would have recognized those eyes or that smile.

The following morning, the three of them were gathered around the breakfast table when Mr. Fairchild was announced.

“Good gracious, Benedict,” Aunt Louisa said. “Do you make a habit of visiting people at this indecent hour?”

He came over and kissed her on the cheek. “Only you, and only when I am starved.” He took a plate from the sideboard and began filling it in a way that made Arabella’s brows raise.

“Do you not have a chef at that bachelor haven of yours?” Aunt Louisa asked.

“My father took his chef with him to the countryside,” Mr. Fairchild said, “so we are left with only lower kitchen staff to manage.” He shot her a significant look to show what he thought of this injustice.

The door opened, and the butler appeared with a silver salver in hand. “The post, ma’am.”

Aunt Louisa took three letters from atop the salver and thanked him before going through them. “For you, child.” She handed Arabella a letter, and Arabella recognized Papa’s script.

She slid her finger under the wafer and unfurled it.

“What does he say?” Aunt Louisa asked, a hint of anxiety in her voice.

Arabella’s eyes traveled quickly over the neat, familiar script. “He hopes we are well. He regrets that he has not been in Town as soon as he had intended. Business has become more complicated than anticipated, but he has every expectation of arriving in the next few days.” She looked up and smiled at her aunt, folding the short letter again without conveying the portion that inquired after their activities and whether her aunt was being the careful chaperone she had promised to be.

“How lovely,” Aunt Louisa said in a determinedly polite tone. “It is his house, after all.”

They ate in silence for a matter of minutes until Felicity spoke. “And how fares the infamous Mr. Hayes, Benedict?”

Arabella shot her cousin a look. At this point, she would be hard-pressed to say whether Felicity was asking on Arabella’s behalf or her own. She was quite taken with the idea of the mysterious Mr. Hayes, and since Arabella had mentioned Papa’s intent to choose her husband, she had begun to suspect Felicity might have thoughts of pursuing an acquaintance with him herself.

The sense of possessiveness this roused in Arabella was as foolish as it was unmerited, and she shoved it aside mercilessly.

“He is well,” Mr. Fairchild replied, disinterested.

“I am elated to hear it,” Felicity said.

Mr. Fairchild looked up at her, chewing his ham.

“As you can imagine,” Felicity said, “Bella is impatient to thank him for his kind services the other night. Perhaps you could arrange for us to see him sometime?”

“Yes,” Aunt Louisa said. “I, too, owe a great debt to this Mr. Hayes and would feel remiss if I did not express as much to him.”

Mr. Fairchild shrugged as he scooped up the last of the ham. “I suppose we could arrange something. He and Yorke intend to make a visit to the market at Covent Garden on Thursday.”

Felicity clapped her hands. “Bella has not seen Covent Garden yet. You will absolutely adore it, Bella. May we join them, Mama?”

Aunt Louisa considered this for a moment, stirring her tea. “Provided we are gone long before dark sets in, I do not see any reason against it. But do you think your father would approve, child?”

It was Arabella’s turn to consider now. It was difficult to say precisely what Papa would approve or disapprove of because Arabella had never been anywhere like London, with so many opportunities for parties and excursions. He had entrusted her to the care of Aunt Louisa, though, and if she saw nothing against it, it must be harmless enough. Arabella had always wanted to go to a London market.

Besides, had Papa not raised her to be polite and express thanks where it was due? Had he not made her well-being his greatest priority? Mr. Hayes had single-handedly guarded her reputation and kept her safe. If anything merited thanks, surely it was that.

“I cannot see why he would not approve,” she replied.

“It is settled, then,” Felicity said. “We shall see the mysterious Mr. Hayes on Thursday at Covent Garden.”

Arabella’s heart skipped a few beats, though whether at the prospect of Covent Garden or of seeing Mr. Hayes again, she could not say with any degree of certainty.