Arranged_An Array Novel

by Hazel Grace

  “Was it just me, or did I feel tension in there that your blessed father was oblivious to,” Eve acknowledged, sinking into one of the two sofas.

  “Way too much,” I agreed. “Ashton and Reddington look as though they want to kill each other.”

  “Over you, no doubt,” Eve put in.

  I crossed my arms. “Was that your plan? Having men duel over me, to see which one is worth my bed?”

  Eve rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic...even though that isn’t a bad idea.”

  I threw the nearest pillow at her head.

  “Hey! This is how you make a man’s feelings come out; you have to push them.”

  “I don’t want blood on my new rugs.” I chortled. I’d never had two men in one room glaring at each other like the two of them.

  “We’ve already established that you aren’t attracted to Lord Ashton,” Eve confirmed. “But Lord Reddington…”

  “It’s way too soon, Eve,” I warned. “No more of your little love games. Let fate take its course. No matter what I do, it seems to want to take over my life anyway.”

  “But I promise you, I didn’t invite—”

  “I know, I know,” I replied. “But from now on, retire your matchmaker badge, will you?”

  Eve grumbled and nodded.

  I walked to the study door. “Or I will invite Lord Gould to a ball that I will personally host for your benefit.”

  Eve straightened. “You wouldn’t dare!” she bellowed, challenging me with her eyes. I gave her a frosty smile. Lord Gould was an awful fellow, who smelled of stale wine and body odor, and had written a sonnet for her every day for two months.

  I opened the door. “I most certainly would.”

  Eve followed me out, and we made our way back to the dining room. “You would sicken half the town with his”—Eve waved her hands in the air—“smell, just to get back at me?”

  I turned to her. “Exactly.”

  “You are a heartless woman, Barlow,” Eve marveled, shaking her head. Lord Ashton stepped out of nowhere as we reached the doorway.

  “I apologize, ladies,” he sputtered. “Lord Barlow sent me to check on the both of you.”

  “Quite all right,” Eve assured him, proceeding to the dining room. Lord Ashton lightly touched my arm.

  “May I have a moment?” he inquired, shifting his weight to one foot.

  I rubbed the back of my neck with my hand. “Of course,” I replied, nodding at Eve. Taking my hint, she made her way back to the dining room. Ashton looked positively anxious, swinging his arms at his sides and clenching them into fists. “Do we need to go somewhere—”

  “No, my Lady. I don’t want to take more of your precious time,” he murmured.

  I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Lord Ashton was a sweet man. He took wonderful care of his daughter and provided for himself and his staff; a woman couldn’t ask for a better match. But my heart didn’t flutter when I was near him, and I didn’t get goose bumps when he was in the room. He felt more like a friend; someone I could joke around with and tease.

  He took a small step toward me. “I’m glad to see you back home. The town missed you… I missed you.”

  I waited patiently for him to proceed, as he looked to the floor. “You flatter me speechless, my Lord,” I answered, when he didn’t continue.

  Here we go.

  We were finally to this conversation. He was going to confess his feelings, and I was going to have to kindly decline. Again.

  “My daughter adores you. She asks about you constantly, which makes me think of you quite often.” I went to open my mouth, but he proceeded, “I know that we haven’t had too much time together, but in time, I believe we would make an excellent match. You’ve won the heart of my daughter, and also…myself. I would like to…ask you…if you would consider…being my wife.”

  I wanted to dissolve into a puddle. Even though I knew he would ask me, I still felt helpless. He didn’t know that my heart was somewhere else, occupied by another man who was no longer available. Or that it was in a million pieces, and I hadn’t even begun picking them up.

  I tried to find the right words, any words that would soften the blow. I didn’t want to be his wife, lose my freedom, and lock myself down with a man I didn’t love. I was still waiting, not knowing how George and I would even pan out.

  “My Lady, please…” Ashton carried on. “I do not expect an answer now. I see I’ve shocked you. But if you would be so kind as to think on my offer. I promise you will be able to live your life, just as you are now. You will gain a daughter and a husband to hopefully, one day, love in return.”

  I found my voice and spoke softly. “Lord Ashton, I am—”

  “Owen, please,” he begged. He looked at me like I held the answers to the world.

  “Owen,” I repeated. “I am very fond of Emma, and you are a very thoughtful man to ask me to marry you, but—”

  “But?” he echoed. I bit the inside of my cheek at his interruption. It was hard enough to tell him ‘no’ in a kind way.

  “I’ve only recently gained my freedom back, and—”

  “You can do whatever you please. Run the business, start a new one. Whatever your heart desires, I will support it.”

  I cleared my throat. “That is a very agreeable notion, thank you. I just don’t think I am ready to—”

  “I understand, you need to think about it.”

  God, why couldn’t he have shown interest in Evelyn.

  The dining room door opened, and Lord Reddington peeked his head around it. “There the two of you are,” he announced, breaking through the awkward tension. “I was beginning to think Lord Ashton may have gotten lost. Good job in finding him, Lady Ava.”

  Lord Ashton fixed him with an annoyed look. “I did not get lost. I was speaking with Lady Barlow in regard to an important matter.”

  “Important matters, eh,” Reddington repeated. “Lord Barlow would like to start the next course.” He looked straight at me as I released an exhale.

  “By all means, of course.” I gestured to the door. “I can’t deny him the meal he has looked so forward to.”

  I gave Lord Ashton a weak smile and walked past Reddington, who held the door open. Reddington followed me and closed the door, not waiting for Ashton to join us.

  “You look flustered, my dear. Are you quite all right?” he asked, concern and curiosity lacing his voice as we walked toward our party.

  “I wish I was a man,” I said, thinking out loud, as he pulled out my chair.

  As I sat, he leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Well, I’m glad you are not. Men are abominable creatures. You, my dear, are lovely.”

  I chuckled. “There is that charm I knew you were capable of, my Lord.”

  Reddington stood up. “There is more to know about me, Lady Barlow.”

  He walked around the table and back over to his chair, keeping his gaze on me the whole time.

  “Where is Lord Ashton?” Papa asked, impatiently waiting for his next plate.

  “I believe he got lost in the house somewhere,” Reddington guessed, smiling at me. I covered my mouth and closed my eyes, keeping my laughter contained.

  “Oh, for Femme Fatale’s sakes,” Papa sneered, to no one in particular. Summoning a servant to fetch Lord Ashton, Papa tapped his fork on the table. He returned, moments later, not speaking much more during the meal.

  After dinner, we all retired to the parlor for brandy and coffee. Lord Ashton made his excuses shortly after, stating he needed to get home to little Emma while Eve matched Lord Reddington in chess. Papa and I laughed and talked, relaxing with our beverages like we always had. This was something I could live with for the rest of my life; these peaceful, relaxing moments.

  ∞∞∞

  My small victory was short-lived when I came downstairs in the morning to find white daisies from Lord Ashton. Thinking I was done with having to worry about him again, the daisies taunted me with false hope. Clenching my teeth, I made m
y way to the kitchen and heard Mrs. Reynolds humming softly to herself. Her apron covered in flour, she peered up at me and smiled.

  “Mornin’, dear,” she sang.

  “Good morning,” I replied flatly, sitting on a stool at our long countertop.

  She raised a brow. “Coffee?”

  I rub my forehead. “I’ll take the whole pot, please.”

  Mrs. Reynolds wiped her hands off her apron, then turned on her heel and sauntered over to the stovetop. “Who are the flowers from?”

  I sigh. “Lord Ashton.”

  Picking up a mug and the pot of coffee, Mrs. Reynolds returned to the counter. “Oh? Well, it isn’t your birthday, so what’s the occasion?” I could hear the teasing tone in her voice.

  I frowned, narrowing my eyes at her. “You know why he sent them.”

  “Trying to take you off the market, eh?” she jested, pouring the piping hot liquid into my cup with a smirk. Mrs. Reynolds shrugged, adding milk and sugar. “Can’t blame the man for trying.”

  “I already told him that I wasn’t interested.”

  “Maybe he thought you were playing hard to get.” She slid my mug over, picking out a lemon muffin from the basket on the table, and placing it in front of me.

  “I promise you, I wasn’t,” I countered, blowing on the top of my coffee.

  “Some men like the challenge, Ava,” she said, returning to kneading her flour.

  “How much more plain can I be without being rude?” It was an honest question. I’d known Ashton for quite some time, and I didn’t want the awkwardness between us. There was already more than enough of that to last a lifetime.

  “Did you at least let the man kiss you before—”

  I groaned loudly. “Was there anything else you would like to inquire about before I go into Pa’s study and drown myself in paperwork?”

  “I’m sure I’ll think of something else later.” The muscles around her mouth tensed as she tried not to laugh. Sliding off my seat, I grabbed my muffin and coffee, squinting my eyes at her.

  “Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Reynolds,” As I made my way out the door, I heard her chuckling before it even closed.

  Rolling my eyes, I headed to the study, closed the door, and began organizing. It didn’t take long to find my rhythm, making fast work of the receipts. The inventory and trade deals were a completely different story, though. I jotted down the things that were in high demand for this time of the year and calculated prices, keeping my focus where it needed to be.

  “My God, you are more beautiful than I remember.”

  A cold chill rushed up my spine as my fingers froze on the papers I held. I was so lost in my work, I never heard the study door open and close. My lungs forgot how to inhale air as my eyes slowly sauntered to the edge of the desk to the navy-blue carpet in the room. The fast pounding of my heart increased as my gaze reached closer to the door. I already knew what I would find. The man who consumed my thoughts at night, with his perfectly structured face and body.

  My eyes landed first on the brown boots, and continued upward to his long legs dressed in darker slacks. Knots began to tug at my stomach when I reached his chest, so broad and hard. I recalled how small I felt against it as we danced and kissed at the Melon Berry picnic. His soft pink lips were parted, stubble above them and around his chin. Hesitating, I squeezed the reports in my hands, mustering up the courage to look him in the eyes. They were dangerous, cunning, beautiful. I’d gotten lost in them and, Femme Fatale help me, I was still drawn to them.

  Finally, my eyes met his, and I found him looking at me as though I were a ghost.

  “I needed to see you,” he admitted, his voice gently caressing my body. His eyes held mine hostage. “I needed to make sure you were well, and that your father didn’t require any more assistance.”

  If George had sent him, I would personally wring his neck, and the four-day trip would be well worth it.

  “I’m fine,” I replied, releasing my death grip on my reports. “My father is very well recovered, so your trip here was for nothing. Aren’t your men reporting back to you?” I asked, in an accusing tone. I knew for a damn fact they were.

  “To see you, I’d say the trip was worth it, even if you don’t need anything,” he quipped, his voice rough but laced in soft silk. I broke his gaze and tried to focus back on my work; as if I could. At least I could try to look unaffected by his presence.

  I shrugged. “I don’t see why. I don’t require anything from you.”

  Garrett stiffened, furrowing his brows. “You don’t require anything from anyone. You have too much pride.”

  “And too much work to do. Was there anything else?” Meeting his face again, I strained to keep mine emotionless.

  “I missed you, Avie.” I clamped my mouth shut. I missed him too. Everything about him. “We left each other in a very bad way. I never got to—”

  “Really, no hard feelings. As you said, I’m prideful. My pride was just pricked a little that day, an unfortunate thing. I assure you, I’m fine.”

  “What if I said I’m not fine?” he pressed on. “That you can’t just leave like that.”

  I couldn’t take anymore. Not his pleading, nor his apologies. I couldn’t bear to look at him. I wanted him too much, and it hurt.

  “If you are feeling unwell, there are two very good, educated doctors here who can mend you.”

  Garrett shook his head. “No, they can’t mend me in the way I need mending.”

  Locking my eyes on an inventory report, my vision blurred as the heat of his stare took away my ability to read.

  His body hovered over the desk, casting more tension in the air. “You can’t leave a man you’ve kissed like that and expect him to be okay.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh please, Garr. You act like it was your first time.”

  “It was the first time I’d been kissed like that and felt something.”

  I refused to look at him. “I’m fine. Pa is fine. Your job here is done.”

  Garrett started to walk toward me in slow, calculated steps. “Not until you accept my apology for speaking to you the way I did.”

  “Apology accepted,” I declared, dropping my papers.

  He rounded the desk. “You don’t mean it.”

  “I do.”

  “Do you?” His voice deepened. “Then look me in the face and say it.”

  I hesitated but accepted his challenge. Before I could speak, though, Mr. Brooks entered the room.

  “My Lady, Mrs. Reynolds asked that I”—he noticed Garrett in the room—“place your flowers in here with you since you spend most your mornings here.”

  “You can put them on the table by the fire, Mr. Brooks. Thank you.” Brooks did as he was told and stood there, waiting for me to speak, or to stand guard until Cranfield left. I felt as though he was doing both.

  “That will be all,” I said, gesturing to the door. He did as he was told and left the room.

  “Already affecting the male species with you being back home?” he asked me, laying the palms of his hands on the desk. His body stood over all my paperwork, demanding to be noticed.

  “It’s from my neighbor,” I scoffed. Garrett pushed off the desk, walking toward the daisies that seemed to laugh at me for thinking my brushoff with Ashton would work. Snatching the small card out of the bouquet, he read it out loud.

  “’My dearest Lady Barlow, I apologize for my swift and surprising declaration of marriage to you last night.’” His hand tightened around the note. “’Please accept my humble apology of these flowers, as a simple token that I was hasty with my request. I understand the pressing matters you’ve had to deal with over the last couple weeks of being home, and my timing was completely wrong. I’ll come to call in a day or two to speak further of the subject and express my remorse in person.’” Garrett lifted a brow at me, tossing the note away haphazardly, and strode toward me. “You’ve been busy.”

  “And you’re still nosy,” I countered. Garrett appeared on my
side of the desk, the room suddenly feeling smaller. Standing from my chair, I attempted to regain my space.

  “Have to be when one has to keep his interests safe and sound,” he professed, an arm’s length from me. “Don’t you already have an agreement with my brother to be married?”

  His body was relaxed, calm; his blank expression the perfect interrogation tactic in any situation.

  Placing my hand on the back of Papa’s leather chair, I said, “I already told you, we spoke about it. I didn’t sign my life away.”

  He shrugged. “You may as well have.”

  “Are we done, Cranfield?” I exhaled, looking at the desk piled with paperwork. “I really have—” Garrett reached for my elbow, pulling me closer to him. Our bodies didn’t touch but I could feel the tension between us. It was heavy and hot, making the back of my neck bead with sweat.

  “Don’t call me that,” he growled, his grasp on my body still firm. “Accept my apology so we can move on to better things to talk about.”

  I raised my chin in a false confidence, attempting to show he wasn’t affecting my entire body. But she was traitorous and forgetful as she tugged toward him, aching to be wrapped in his arms right now. This man wanted to lose his temper with me and not listen; I didn’t know what to make of him.

  I did know one thing—I couldn’t lose my heart and soul to him.

  “I already did,” I reminded him, pulling back on my arm. He held onto it, his addictive proximity making me dangerously close to losing control of myself. “How else can I show it?” My voice was weak; I could hear it breaking. The more time I spent near him, the more my walls crumpled to the ground.

  He smirked, his eyes smiling. “Don’t ask such a loaded question, Avie.”

  I yanked my arm out of his grasp, needing my territory back, but immediately missing the warmth of his touch. “Don’t be crude.”

  He took a step closer as I retracted back.

  “You don’t need to try and intimidate me with your height,” I sputtered. The corner of his mouth quirked, his gaze boring into me.