Page 45 of Snowbound Surrender

“Change of plans,” he said smoothly, his gaze flickering to the disturbed stones behind her. “But please don’t let me interrupt your... archaeological pursuits. Though I do hope you’ll join me for tea once you’ve finished. We have so much to discuss.”

There was something in his tone that made it clear this was not a request. And as Arabella looked into his eyes, she realizedwith growing horror that she might just have walked into a trap of her own making.

CHAPTER 11

“How delightful this is,and after such a long time.” Algernon sat across from her, gesturing for her to pour the tea that the little maid had brought. “But my goodness, dust sheets! Why, if I had known you were coming, I would have pulled out all the stops to honor you as you deserve.”

Arabella tried to hide her fear. She should have been used to masking her true emotions. After all, she had done that for almost five years.

But there was something particularly insidious and calculating about Algernon, whereas Lushington had simply been brutish and transparent about it.

What did this man know?

Good God, Arabella was so tired of men who used her for their own ends.

Yesterday in Nicholas’s arms she had been reminded of how wonderful it felt to be loved by someone who wanted nothing more than to have their feelings reciprocated.

And if anyone deserved that, Nicholas did. He was kind and brave.

And after yesterday, she dared hope he believed in her.

“You know,” Algernon said conversationally, stirring his tea slowly, “I had the most interesting morning. Stopped by Quamby House on my way here—wanted to pay my respects to your hosts, naturally. Such charming people.”

Arabella’s hand stilled on her teacup. “You... you went to Quamby House?”

“I did indeed. You see, quite by chance, when I’d changed horses at the local inn, I was told that my dear cousin’s late wife was staying at Quamby House while her carriage axle was being fixed. Naturally, I felt I should introduce myself to the people who had been so kind to my dear cousin’s widow.” His smile was all sharp edges. “That Morley fellow was there. Fascinating conversation we had about you.”

Arabella felt faint. “What... what did you discuss?”

“Well, it was the most curious thing. He seemed quite relieved to hear you’d gone to meet Lord Pemberton. Said he wasn’t surprised you’d chosen wealth over... what was it? Oh yes, genuine affection.” Algernon paused to sip his tea, watching her reaction with obvious satisfaction. “Apparently, he’s finally seen through your little charade.”

The teacup slipped from Arabella’s nerveless fingers, clattering against the saucer. “Lord Pemberton? I barely know the gentleman. Mr. Morley could not have believed?—”

“Oh, but he did. Said something about being a fool twice, but never a third time. Quite poetic, really.” Algernon leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying her distress. “I do believe you’ve lost him for good this time, my dear.”

Arabella felt as if the world had tilted off its axis. Nicholas believed she had gone to another man? After everything they had shared, after the passion and tenderness of two days ago, he thought she was exactly what society had painted her—a calculating fortune hunter?

“You’re lying,” she whispered, but even as she said it, she could see the truth in Algernon’s satisfied expression.

“Am I? Then why hasn’t he come after you? Why isn’t he here demanding explanations?” Algernon shrugged elegantly. “Face it, Arabella. You’ve played one game too many, and now you’ve lost the only man who ever truly cared for you.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she forced them back. She would not give this man the satisfaction of seeing her break completely.

“What do you want from me, Algernon?”

“Want? My dear cousin, I’ve been helping you all along. Managing your estates while you’ve been... indisposed with grief. Handling the tenants, collecting the rents, dealing with all those tedious financial matters that are so beneath a lady’s notice.”

Something cold settled in her stomach. “What do you mean, managing my estates? That’s not your job.”

“I made it my job. And you’ve been in such a delicate state since my cousin’s death—quite understandable, of course. The shock of widowhood, the overwhelming responsibility... I’ve simply been ensuring everything runs smoothly in your absence.”

“Did the bailiff ask you to?—”

“Oh, there was no need to ask. Family takes care of family.” His smile turned predatory. “Though I must say, it’s been quite lucrative. Amazing how much income these properties generate when properly managed.”

The implication hit her like a physical blow. She was paid quarterly, and she’d thought the amount deposited in her bank account was paltry but that a subsequent quarter would see that amply redressed by the reconciliation. “You’ve been stealing from me!”

“Such an ugly word. I prefer to think of it as... compensation for services rendered. After all, someone needs to make the difficult decisions. Someone needs to handle the complexities of estate management.”