An Accidental Affair

by Heather Boyd

  CHAPTER TWO

  At the age of eight and twenty Arabella Lawson, Lady Farnsworth, was not the kind of woman to incite great passion in the gentleman she met. In truth, she did not believe she had ever stirred the slightest rush of desire in her entire life. Nevertheless, she would not be deterred from her mission this night as she had been on so many others. She wanted a lover this season. At long last. Someone who would not laugh at her inexperience. Someone who would show her what her marriage had lacked without thinking there was something wrong with her.

  Around her, the most handsome, witty, and downright dangerous lords of society strolled the throng, taking their pick from any number of willing widows. Arabella was both a widow and exceedingly willing. It was simply a matter of catching the right gentleman’s eye and praying he understood her intentions. Thanks to a friend’s explicit advice, she was as prepared now as she’d ever been. Rosemary Randall, now Lady Grayling, had shared many intimate details of how one might spend a night in a lover’s arms, though Arabella had not had the opportunity to put any of that into practice.

  So far a lover hadn’t fallen into her lap, and the more time passed, the more nervous about the matter she became. She had allowed the need to prepare her niece for the season in London as a reason to set the issue aside until tonight, and that had been a mistake.

  What she wouldn’t give to have Rosemary at her side now, promising again that all would be well. It was so unfair. If only Arabella’s husband had loved her a little, she’d never have been in this predicament. They had married for different reasons, reasons Arabella had not fully understood when she’d made her vow, and she had promised herself to never assume happiness couldn’t be hers again. She would never remarry, but that did not mean she had to be alone. Once the small matter of her virginity was put behind her, she would be content to grow old alone.

  She darted a discreet gaze around the room in search of likely candidates for a lover and found no new faces. Drat. Even the unexciting Lord Parker was nowhere in sight, likely discouraged by her talk of fashion with Lady Harrison. Lady Harrison had latched on to the topic of riding habits and confessed she collected riding crops to match them. She could never get enough apparently and had a vast array upstairs. The topic had sent Lord Parker on his way in a hurry, his face flushed red.

  Lady Harrison winked. “Do excuse me, won’t you my dear Lady Farnsworth? A hostess must not neglect her guests, and I see a gentleman over there desperately trying to catch my eye.”

  “Yes, of course,” Arabella said quickly, not in the least concerned to be abandoned so soon. “I do understand. It is so easy to ruffle the feathers of an overlooked acquaintance when hosting a ball. Your events are always so well attended.”

  Lady Harrison gave her an odd look, then sauntered away in a swish of red silk. Arabella envied her assurance as she moved through the crowd, throwing teasing smiles at the gentlemen she met. Unfortunately, such behavior was beyond Arabella’s skills. She wished she only had to look at a man for him to know what she was thinking, but so far, no one was listening and interesting things only seemed to happen to other ladies.

  The last time she’d tried fluttering her lashes, Lord Louth had asked her if she was ill.

  Across the room, Lady Harrison paused to speak to Lord Rothwell, and a devilish smile flittered across his lips before he whispered something in her ear. Tall, dark, and sleek as a caged leopard at Wombwell’s traveling menagerie in his dark coat, breeches, and gold-and-white-striped waistcoat, Rothwell could have any woman he wanted and, according to London’s finest gossips, frequently did many times over. Was she witnessing an assignation?

  More than likely, given his eager nod of agreement and Lady Harrison’s pleased, secretive smile. At least that is what Arabella had to assume. Having never been in the same situation, she could only guess what one might say to make that man smile so wickedly.

  Arabella put her speculation aside and reluctantly returned to her brother-in-law’s company. She smiled at the few friends standing about him, but was astonished to find her niece Cecily was not standing with her father anymore. After a discreet check among the couples gathered on the dance floor for the quadrille, Arabella groaned under her breath. Cecily had vanished. Again. She tightened her grip on her fan. Cecily had promised no more disappearances, yet the minute Arabella’s back was turned the girl flitted away. Chaperoning her was proving to be a nightmare.

  A hot breath against her ear made her jump. “Go find her this instant and bring her back to me.”

  The demand from her brother-in-law was not unexpected. He’d made it very plain that Cecily’s behavior and her failure so far to snare the right husband was entirely Arabella’s fault, and to a degree he was right. Yet she’d spent little time with the girl as she was growing up, and Cecily already had firm opinions on what she would do and would not do. She could hardly be blamed if the girl refused to heed her words. Cecily pointed out more often than was comfortable that Arabella should have had a daughter of her own to mother by now.

  “She won’t be far,” Arabella said quickly, eager to appease Farnsworth before anyone noticed the steam billowing from his ears. She didn’t have the faintest idea where her niece had disappeared to in this crowd, but if Arabella didn’t make a start on finding the girl then everyone around them would soon know Cecily was unchaperoned yet again.

  Her brother-in-law elbowed her arm hard enough to sting. “The minute you discover her location, we are leaving this madhouse,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll decide whether remaining in London another month is worth the expense.”

  Arabella’s heart soared. Once she was done chaperoning Cecily, she could return to Winslette, her home in Wiltshire, and the company of her closest friends. Because of Farnsworth’s demands and assurances that his daughter’s needs came first, she’d missed two of the most important weddings of the season. The first was the Duchess of Romsey’s and the second was of her friend and neighbor Lord Grayling to Miss Rosemary Randall. She was very sorry to have missed the latter as she’d had a hand in matching the pair together. Farnsworth had refused her leave to go, citing that his daughter’s needs took precedence.

  Since Farnsworth had become the earl, he’d developed the most penny-pinching and demanding habits. Not that any of the Farnsworth men had ever been reasonable creatures. It was uncharitable of her to think ill of the dead, but her husband and his son, short though the latter’s life had been, had not been easy people to make happy.

  Her husband had married her to run his homes and promptly ignored her in favor of his own amusements. Since his death, it had become clear the most recent Lord Farnsworth had little patience for either the social whirl or the expense and fuss of his daughter’s first season.

  Arabella set off in pursuit of Cecily with a heavy heart. Mending fences when Farnsworth was rude to their hosts gave her a nightly megrim she could easily do without.

  Farnsworth’s dislike of London and the season’s frivolous entertainments ran counter to his expectations for being here. If he wanted his daughter to make an advantageous match, then at least he could expend some effort to get the girl successfully married off.

  She studied the men around her as she moved through the crowd in search of Cecily and contented herself yet again with inspecting the lords present. Arabella was tall herself, so her eye was drawn to the men of equal or greater height more often than not.

  When it came to choosing a lover, Arabella also had a short list of requirements: Cleanliness was essential, though not the suggestion of it that came from heavy-handed application of perfumes. Unmarried and unattached by affection for the season was her main requirement, however. She could not contemplate usurping another woman’s place. What she wanted was someone to be hers alone when they started, someone who did not mind that one short affair might be enough but would not be averse to a repeat meeting if their tryst proved enjoyable. Arabella blushed as she gained the entrance hall and looked around. She didn’t have the first id
ea under what circumstances that might be possible. She only had the guidance of a distant friend’s confidences to rely upon that the sexual act was both pleasant and worth repeating.

  As she traveled through the card room and came up empty-handed, she marveled that there were so many widows in London for the season, many of whom already seemed in the company of unattached men. She envied them their confidence. Arabella couldn’t look at a certain well-known rake with whom she was acquainted without a blush heating her cheeks. But from all she’d heard, Lord Rothwell had a similar effect on every woman.

  She fanned her face quickly, then snapped the fan shut. Now was not the time to dwell on her own interests. She had a niece to find before society noticed her absence and scandal caught them. She was almost satisfied she would survive one more night without incident until she ventured to the retiring room. Cecily was not there either, and Arabella retraced her steps, hoping they had passed each other unseen.

  As she regained the ballroom and looked around for her niece, an elegant, silver-haired matron caught her eye. Lady Penelope Ford, society’s most intimidating stickler when it came to propriety, met her gaze steadily as she drew closer. Arabella straightened her spine instantly, even while concentrating on appearing as unperturbed as possible.

  “Good evening, Lady Farnsworth,” Lady Penelope Ford murmured as she drew near.

  “Good evening, Lady Penelope. A pleasure to see you again.”

  After a long, uncomfortable moment, Lady Penelope nodded regally and returned to her own party, a half dozen members of the Ford family by their looks. Arabella continued on with as much calm grace as she could manage, but her heart was pounding. Quite frankly, Lady Penelope’s scrutiny terrified her. It always had. One curt word from that lady would ruin Cecily’s chances of making a good match and put the family out of favor with those who mattered.

  She glanced behind her self-consciously and shuddered. Every time she crossed paths with the Fords, Arabella developed an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Society called them the Fighting Fords. Navy men, every last one, and with tempers little suited to conforming to society’s expectations. No one doubted their loyalty to king and country, but they were said to fight as much amongst themselves as against the French.

  A prickle of awareness caressed her neck. She turned her head a fraction, startled to meet the Earl of Rothwell’s intense stare. Lady Penelope Ford’s wayward nephew was known to her through a neighbor and friend in Wiltshire, so she smiled kindly.

  His attention did not waver when dancers formed lines between them, and he did not smile at her as he had done with Lady Harrison. Heat swept up her neck and cheeks, making her wish her discomfort wouldn’t be obvious should she reach for her fan and beat it furiously before her face.

  Arabella returned her gaze to the path ahead, determined not to appear as virginal as she felt at that moment. Rothwell’s scrutiny, even from across a crowded ballroom, was worse than his aunt’s. He had the most remarkable effect on her nerves, sending them in all directions at once. Yet when she peeked in his direction again, Rothwell had vanished, leaving her to sadly conclude that he’d certainly had no trouble forgetting her as soon as his gaze moved on.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Merrick stood alone in the darkened chamber, waiting for Louisa to join him and deliver whatever urgent news she had whispered to him in the ballroom earlier. Her entreaty to meet with her within twenty minutes puzzled him at first, but he soon discovered he was eager to avoid the ballroom and the irritation certain parties presented.

  His family, Ford cousins, were present and again eager to return him to the fold.

  He didn’t want anything to do with that side of the family.

  Then there was Lady Farnsworth, dressed in beguiling pink silk and likely being pursued by a man far too old for her. He shouldn’t feel protective of her. She’d barely spared a glance his way, yet there was something so innocent about her that he regretted they were not better acquainted so he might advise against the connection.

  He leaned his head back against the paneled wood wall as irritation filled him. He had his own affairs to arrange, and it was going poorly. A proper courtship. A marriage and then years of wedded bliss seemed well beyond his reach after months in London. The last two ladies he’d smiled at had disappeared behind fans and rushed off together. It wasn’t the first time such an event had happened, but his patience for nonsense was wearing thin. A score of fathers and guardians had followed his progress through the ballroom, and he could still feel their disapproval now in this very room.

  Was being good all for nothing? If he denied himself any pleasure at all, would it make a scrap of difference in how society viewed him? It didn’t seem likely.

  Maybe he and Louisa could come to an arrangement, one that could be ended at a moment’s notice should he find a woman he wanted to marry and that would cause no hard feelings between them. It was not as if they hadn’t slept together before. Louisa was always eager for bed play and she was very very good at making a man lose track of time.

  She’d been dropping hints all season that they could be together whenever he wanted. He’d be using her, but then again, she’d be using him too. He considered a moment longer. What harm could there possibly be?

  He was dazzled momentarily as the door creaked open, and as soon as Louisa closed it, Merrick pulled her into his arms. He allowed a brief squeak of protest at his urgency before he sealed his lips to hers. He closed his eyes as Louisa’s hands fluttered by his shoulders like frightened butterflies before settling lightly on his upper arms.

  Merrick crowded her against the door and kissed the woman fiercely. Although restrained at first, she didn’t stop him but played at seeming inexperienced. Merrick loosened his grip and skimmed his hands down her sides, ending his exploration at her delightful derrière. She squirmed in his arms, her hands clutching then releasing his coat as if she didn’t know quite what to do with them. The thought plagued him until he forced himself to pay greater attention. The light embrace tightened, arms rose to loop around his neck, gloved fingers teased the back of his hair and encouraged him to continue.

  Yet her kiss was wrong. This wasn’t Louisa. Not even his imagination could conjure up a less-experienced version of that woman.

  He eased back a touch and opened his eyes, noting at last that Louisa’s height had increased in the interval since he’d last spoken to her and her normally passionate responses remained subdued. In the low light, even his vision played tricks. Louisa looked nothing like Lady Farnsworth. They were as different as night and day. He shook his head to clear it, yet Arabella still stood there.

  He drew back, resting one hand at the side of the woman’s head and the other at her hip.

  Arabella stared back, full lips slightly parted, chest heaving. He ran his hand down the length of her sleeve and found the tassel adorning the edge that proved it was indeed Arabella and not Louisa in his arms.

  Her brow furrowed suddenly as shock likely gave way to outrage. “What are you doing here?”

  “I do beg forgiveness.” He swallowed quickly. “I was expecting someone.”

  Her brows rose in surprise. “Me?”

  Merrick winced. “No, of course not.”

  “Oh.” Arabella sighed as her gaze lowered to his waistcoat, and to his astonishment, she smoothed it. “I suppose you wouldn’t be really, would you? You clearly meant to meet another. Of course, of course. Do forgive my mistake.”

  Merrick frowned at her rambling, but her touch was driving him wild. She should be angry at the very least, not apologizing, but she appeared more concerned with setting him to rights than beating him with her fan. The fact that she assumed he was meeting with someone alarmed him too. Was he so transparent to others? “What are you doing here?”

  She grimaced again and her eyes darted around him. “Searching for my niece. I don’t suppose you have her?”

  “She would not be with me. Never with me.”

  “
Oh.” Her expression brightened as she met his gaze. “Oh, that is good. Really. I could not imagine. What would she have said? Oh, never mind what I might imagine. I’m so sorry to have interrupted.”

  Merrick grinned at Arabella’s confusing babble. He’d muddled her well with his kisses, and he was tempted to confuse her even more. He would be much better for her than Parker. Their ages were closer as was their height. He eased closer, delighted when her hands caressed his waistcoat again. He tilted his head to the side, catching her eye as he leaned closer still. Their lips hovered an inch apart, and he thought he might just have the opportunity to kiss her again. She didn’t appear too upset about his mistake. In fact, he believed she might be agreeable to another kiss, as she never pushed him back or moved away. The idea of kissing her again was so terribly tempting.

  Her soft breath rushed across his lips, but just when he would have kissed her again the door they leaned upon bucked. Merrick threw his and Arabella’s weight against it to keep it closed. He quietly turned the key in the lock to ensure they wouldn’t be disturbed.

  Wedged between him and discovery, Arabella remained still and very quiet in his arms. After a time, when Merrick was sure whoever it was had gone away, he glanced at his companion’s face. Her eyes were closed, her body resting snugly against his. As she took a deep breath, her firm, high breasts brushed against his chest. He cursed his luck that they were not both naked at that moment. All he could think of was her long, silky smooth limbs entwined with his and her passionate sighs filling his ears.

  But with the ball outside and her niece being searched for, he didn’t like his chances to experience any of that.

  He stood back, folding his arms across his chest to stop himself from hauling Lady Arabella back against him to finish the night as he’d prefer. Naked and writhing with him in a bed unfortunately seemed a vast improvement on finding a bride.

  Arabella pressed her hand to her cheek and then covered her lips. After a long moment, her hand fell away and she glanced at the door. Her fingers clenched together at her waist. “I’m sorry for disturbing you. I hope I haven’t ruined anything important. I suspect you were awaiting Lady Harrison, and she’s likely gone back to her guests.”