Page 88 of Dukes All Night Long

“But Lady Bellamy wishes us to be partners.” He pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his perfectly tailored waistcoat that stretched ever so nicely across his broad shoulders.

His cravat was tied loosely, as if he dressed in a hurry.

Or had reached his long fingers under the fabric, tugging it out of place.

Whatever the case, the blasted man looked put together, yet casually indifferent all at once.

Heat radiated from him. He smelled like spice and soap.

Her pulse quickened and she had the instinct to gulp air into her lungs.

The memory of the way she’d felt in his arms and the kisses they’d shared under a covert summer moon rushed back to her.

It was as if no time had passed at all. Suddenly, she was not an independent woman but a simpering fool who wanted to beg for his love.

Damn her traitorous heart.

She could not think of a retort. Her legs shook so badly she was afraid she might collapse onto the floor. This man. How vexing he was. How she hated him.

Before she could move, Lady Bellamy clinked her glass, drawing everyone’s attention. She regarded her guests with an expression that was equal parts amusement and mischief.

“Welcome, friends, to this Twelfth Night celebration. We are here for games and merriment. I shall expect nothing more than for you to wholeheartedly commit yourselves to the game tonight.”

A murmur of anticipation rippled through the room, though some guests chuckled nervously.

Who knew what Lady Bellamy had waiting for them all?

Regardless, Arabella’s excitement for the party had vanished.

Why would Lady Bellamy pair her with Lucian?

Did she know the rumors about the two of them?

She couldn’t imagine Lady Bellamy would do anything unkind.

However, as she stood only inches from Lucian, she remembered that he and Lady Bellamy had grown up on country estates not far from each other.

In fact, if she recalled correctly, he had been good friends with her brother.

Which would mean she did know of their past history together. Why would she pair them?

“Excellent. In my opinion, Twelfth Night is a time for fresh beginnings.” She lifted a brow as a slow smile curved at the edges of her lips.

“In Shakespeare’s tale Twelfth Night , disguises led to confusion, confessions were made in error, and hearts were won when least expected. A delectable mess.” She grinned and clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “My hope is for our own fates to unfold in the same way tonight.”

Lady Bellamy gestured toward the footmen stationed by the doors, who now moved to open them, revealing a dimly lit hall beyond.

“Throughout this house, rooms have been prepared. Each pair shall enter their designated chamber, and once inside, the door shall be locked.”

Expressions of surprise came from the guests, but Arabella barely noticed. She was too distraught over the rules of the game. Locked in a room with her enemy? Surely there was a way out of this?

“Ah, but do not fret,” Lady Bellamy continued.

“This is no ordinary imprisonment. Within each room, you will find a clue that will be the key to your escape. Work together, and you may be free in mere minutes. But if you fail to do so quickly, you will be locked together until dawn.” She paused dramatically.

“My presumption is that, by dawn’s light, all questions about why you were chosen to participate and with whom you are partnered will become clear. ”

A few guests exchanged glances with their assigned partners, some shrugging good-naturedly, others with clenched jaws or knitted brows. Perhaps she and Lucian were not the only ones with a history together.

Will this not open the door to ruination for the young ladies in attendance?

As if Lady Bellamy heard her silent question, she nodded in Arabella’s direction.

“What happens tonight will stay within the confines of these walls. I have chosen you all carefully, knowing you are to be trusted with secrets. Perhaps, by morning, you’ll find yourselves in quite a different tale than the one you expected when you arrived tonight.

After all, what is Twelfth Night if not a chance for fate to right wrongs and offer redemption? ”

She tilted her head, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Now then. You each have your instructions. Your rooms await. Do try to be cooperative. It would be such a shame if anyone were to remain locked away until morning and miss the food, drink, and dancing that awaits here in the salon. However, I’ve had refreshments laid out in each of the rooms, should you grow hungry or thirsty.

I think you’ll find your room most comfortable. Other than the company, perhaps?”

“And now you may begin.”

The room erupted into motion, guests reluctantly—or eagerly—following the footmen to their fates.

Arabella held back, planning her escape.

However, Lucian turned to her, his eyes soft, his expression one of humility.

“I understand why you would not want to join me. But I am willing to provide answers to some of the questions you might have. Ones that I did not have the opportunity to answer back then.”

She hesitated, fingers twitching at her sides. He seemed genuine enough. And she would like to hear what flimsy excuse he had for leaving her humiliated.

“Fine. But whatever I wish to know, you must tell me, without reservation.”

“You have my word, Lady Kingsley.”

Reluctantly, Arabella followed their assigned footman down the hallway to the room chosen for them. Anger bubbled up from the places she had sent it all those years ago. Apparently, as with love, it never faded.

*

When Lucian agreed to Lady Ella Bellamy’s scheme, he’d not considered this possibility.

Arabella was his partner in some game. How could Ella do this to him?

She’d insisted that the Twelfth Night party was a perfect way for him to meet young ladies in need of a husband.

He’d agreed out of desperation. Lucian’s father had given him until dawn tomorrow to announce an engagement or he would be cut off financially.

Upon his father’s edict, Lucian’s first thought had been of Arabella.

She was the one he wanted. Since the first moment he laid eyes upon her, he’d known he wanted to marry her and no one else.

Thus, he’d stayed single for as long as he could.

But his father’s patience had run out. He must choose a bride or face the consequences.

He’d come to Ella, his dear friend from childhood, with his dilemma and she had cleverly suggested (or so he thought at the time) a clandestine party. Feeling as if he had no other choice, he’d agreed.

And now here he was—in a locked room with the one woman in the world who utterly despised him.

He could not blame her, of course. What he had done to her was unforgivable.

Looking back in time, he understood now what a mistake it had been.

However, he’d been faced with a health diagnosis that ensured a long, painful death.

He’d chosen to leave her without an explanation for her own sake.

He’d been diagnosed with tuberculosis, the same disease that had taken his mother’s life.

If he’d told her the truth, she would have insisted that she take care of him throughout the ghastly illness until he died a horrible death.

He could not let that happen. So he left.

By the time he’d spent six months in Italy and his symptoms proved to be a terrible lung infection instead of consumption, from which he’d recovered completely, she had married another.

A man sixty years her senior, no less. The thought of her with someone that old disgusted him.

How could she have done such a thing when she said she loved him?

It was not that she had married. He understood it was expected of a young woman of Arabella’s station.

What bothered him was the speed in which it happened.

Two months after they shared such intimacy and vowed to love each other forever, she’d married another. It appalled him.

Yet, he also knew it was his fault. He had chosen to leave without explanation. Thus, he had no cause to be angry with her. This was all his doing.

He had heard that she was widowed just two years after marriage to Kingsley.

By then, too much time had passed. No matter what he told her about his mistaken diagnosis, she would not be able to forgive.

He had broken her heart. Even though he had not seen her face when she opened his note, he could practically feel her shock and grief from his carriage as he was driven out of London on a boat bound for Italy.

Their love had been true and deep and he had lost the only woman he had ever truly loved.

“This is absurd.” Arabella stomped over to the fireplace where an envelope containing their names waited. When she reached the mantel, she snatched it up and shook it, as if throwing flames his way. “What is Lady Bellamy up to? Why would she put us together?”

“I am not sure.”

Ella knew the whole story. Was she hoping they would reconcile? Had this been her plan all along? Not a party where he could pick from eligible women but an entrapment with the woman he’d loved and lost.

Arabella scowled, which did nothing to take away her ravishing beauty.

He’d not thought it possible, but she had grown even more lovely over the years.

He had avoided society since his return home, not wanting to chance seeing her.

Another reason his father had to be angry with him.

There had been four seasons since the one he’d met and fallen in love with Arabella and he had not participated in any of them.