"I understand."
"By all means write and tell me what is happening. My accountant can do the books and find someone to manage the office, do the purchasing and so on. As for extra hands, let those two young chaps who volunteered last week have a go. And if the medical students want some real experience, we'll give it to them. I'll be back soon, me and Arabella."
"Very good. Listen, I'm sorry again that I didn't contact you earlier. I doubt we could have saved her. But the sooner we find that monster the better, before he blights more innocent women's lives," the earnest young man said.
"I couldn't agree with you more."
"When are you leaving?"
"Today. I'll write and let you know what my plans are. And thanks for all your help." He offered his hand to shake.
"I'm only too glad to do it," Antony said fervently, returning the warm pressure.
Blake got into his carriage and headed for the house in Islington.
As always, the trip never failed to depress him. It had been a futile errand for over ten years now, ever since he had been told the truth by his father…
He would need to tell Arabella one day.
The poor girl. He had told her they would have absolute confidence between them, yet he had lied about his feelings for her right from the start. Had kept things from her. He felt as though he had done nothing but pollute and corrupt her ever since they had met.
He knew leaving London was only running away from the inevitable. Sooner or later she would find out the truth about him. He couldn't risk it now. Not when he still had hopes of winning her love…
Selfish though he knew he was being, he wasn't quite ready to surrender her to another man without a fight, no matter how much common sense and decency told him that as her guardian he should never even consider asking her to marry him.
Blake sighed again. He hardly knew what he wanted any more. Was it so unreasonable to wish to be happy? He thought once more of Arabella's lovely smiling face, her warm kisses. Despite the grimness of his errand, his heart lifted.
Arabella heard the front door open at about quarter to eleven, and hurried downstairs with her small valise, leaving the servants to carry down the other two portmanteaux.
"Nearly ready," she called, and then halted.
Adam and Oliver stood there smiling up at her. "How are you, Miss Neville? We thought we might tempt you to take a stroll with us in Hyde Park, that is, if you and your duenna were amenable."
"Very kind of you, I'm sure. But my guardian has some urgent business out of Town and we're leaving shortly. Some other time, perhaps, when we've returned?"
The two brothers shot each other a look which, if Arabella didn't know better, might have almost denoted alarm.
"And where are you off to? Somewhere pleasant, I trust," Oliver said smoothly.
"Bath first, then Somerset. My home, and some friends' houses."
"A bit chill perhaps in winter, but there is always much to amuse in Bath."
"Indeed. But we are going on business."
"We must go down to Southwood to tend to our own affairs. Perhaps we shall see you some time in the near future?" Adam said calmly.
She bowed. "I look forward to it."
He made a great show of kissing her hand. "I shall miss you enormously, my dear. Your inestimable beauty has lit up this otherwise dull city. My brother and I shall be bereft. But if we may call on you in Bath?"
"I'm not sure where we're staying. I can write to you," she offered, taken with his most lover-like manner, and that fact that though he was not nearly as handsome as Blake, he was physically similar to him in many respects.
"We shall look forward to hearing from you, then." He bowed.
Oliver kissed her hand once more and also took his leave.
She looked at Oliver's receding back. All of them tall, dark, handsome. All of them good dancers, good company. So why did her heart turn over only when she was with Blake? Was it because the other two had not kissed her? Yet, she amended. She could always….
Was it because she had been thwarted in her own desires that she was willfully longing for the one man in the world she couldn't have?
As troubling as that was to admit, she had to face the truth. Unless she tried to further her male acquaintance, she was going to have to spend three years as Blake's ward pining for him day after day, night after night.
And she might, though she doubted it, actually miss out on a good, or perhaps even a better man, if she did so. Not that she could imagine anyone better for her than Blake.
But he belonged to Leonore. There was no room in his life for Arabella. She sighed and went down to her sitting room. Where was he? Was he even now saying a tender farewell to his paramour?
She took up her embroidery hoop with a sigh. One tear rolled down her cheek unheeded.
"Damn and blast. If we hadn't happened to come along when we did, the pigeon would have flown the coop with us none the wiser," Adam said furiously to his brother as they rode away in their borrowed carriage.
"What can we do now?"
"Follow them, of course. We can't stay here in London. Every day we do so bites into our money even further."
"One or the other of us could duck out of the running. It would mean more money for the one who continued in pursuit of our quarry," Oliver suggested.
Adam shook his head. "With all the suitors she has, it will take both of us to fend them off. No, we go to Bath with all possible haste."
"We promised George we would get the carriage back to him by the end of this week."
"Tell him it's a family emergency, and we shall be back soon. We can also remind him that we know all about the little canary he is keeping in his cage in Islington. I am sure the Honorable Miss Jennings, she of the twenty-thousand pounds per annum, would also be interested to hear all about her.
"In fact," Adam added with a grin, "I think we might as well go give our regards to the little canary right now. Tell her George sent us. Why pay when we can have it for free? The price for our silence, don't you know."
For once Oliver looked doubtful. "I'm not so sure. That last girl you found for us, there was something wrong with her for certain. She was, well, crazed."
"But it was fun, wasn't it?"
"Fun? I was exhausted. You must have better staying power than me. I heard you get her up and out this morning. I'm surprised you can still walk."
"Ah, my boy, I'll give you riding lessons some other time," Adam said with a tight smile. "Come, old fellow, Islington awaits."
Dr. Herriot gasped as he had the nurse remove the dying woman's clothes so he could examine her. "And you found her where?"
"An alley near the brewery."
The breath rattled in the woman's throat, and she tried to speak. But she had been half strangled, the purple thumb prints on her neck standing out starkly against her pale flesh.
"Who did this to you? Can you tell me what he looked like?"
She opened her mouth, but the only thing which emanated from it was blood. He stared into the empty cavern where her teeth had once been, and her-
His eyes rounded like saucers, and he began to tremble in horror. "Nurse, send for the police, now. Tell them we have another one."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Blake arrived back at the stroke of eleven. Making his apologies to Arabella for the delay, he went up the stairs to check his room one last time before they set off.
His valet Timothy seemed to have taken everything of importance, his favourite cufflinks and cravats, his best pins, and his gold fob watch which had been a present from his father.
He wanted Mr. Jerome to think well of him, see that though he had not been raised in the countryl he was a gentleman who could fit in and knew the value of the past, of heritage, heirlooms.
Blake sighed. He wondered how much Mr. Jerome knew of his family history. Everything, no doubt.
But it was nothing he needed to worry about. None of his obligations would interfere with the
future of Jerome Manor. He would most certainly not be harsh with the poor surviving daughters, who through a lack of sense on the part of one of their ancestors had been disinherited simply by dint of being female. An unfortunate accident, foolish people would conclude, but as Blake knew, a fifty-percent likelihood.
He shook his head. All of these fixations on gender and virginity and legitimacy were like bizarre rituals from some ancient religion, not things a sensible modern man needed to worry about.
He sighed. But a woman flouted convention at her own peril, as would he if he ever dared to admit his true feelings for Arabella.
However, Blake could not do that until he was more certain of his own affairs, and more certain of her. She was very young-she had scarcely spread her wings yet. Her triumph had been considerable, but her head had not been turned by it. She needed to be given a fair chance to make a match of her own, without him as her guardian trying to manoeuvre her for his own selfish purposes.
For selfish he most certainly was. He wanted Arabella all to himself. If he could not manage that entirely because of the pressures and suspicions of the rest of the world, he would put a brave face on it by taking her visiting.
Philip's word of warning had not been lost upon him. He had to play it safely, be seen to be open and forthcoming and never dog in the manger, no matter how jealous he might become.
If she fell in love with another, well, he would have only himself to blame for having treated her so shabbily at the inn.
He would give it three months. If at the end of that time nothing had occurred which gave him any reason to suspect Arabella had given her heart to another, he would ask for permission to pay court to her, and the Devil take the consequences.
In the meantime, he would settle his circumstances more fully for his intended future wife and the children they would eventually be blessed with. And he prayed to the Lord that they would all look like Arabella.
"Ready to go?" he asked when he came downstairs into her small sitting room.
"I think so," she said quietly, still filled with misgivings over where he had been.
He noticed her hesitation and patted her shoulder in what he hoped would seem a reassuring rather than suggestive manner. "Anything you've forgot, we can buy, my dear. Bath is full of lovely shops."
She gave a wan smile. "You've already been more than indulgent."
"I know you gave all your pin money to the clinic, so I don't think I can be accused of being too doting if I buy you one or two things to make up for it. But let's just see your account book as long as we're on the subject." He winked at her, and she handed it over.
"Very good. You're doing well," he praised.
"Any more hints and tips?"
"Nothing urgent. We can look it over in the carriage. Come, let's get started, while we still have some light left." He took her hand, and gave her a dazzling smile.
As Arabella looked up at his handsome face and her heart turned over, she was prepared to forgive Blake anything, even Leonore.
Three days of relatively uneventful travel, which was both torture and Heaven for them both, brought them to Michael Avenel's house just outside the elegant city of Bath.
Blake had had the servants ride inside with them for the sake of propriety as well as warmth, so he and Arabella had seldom been alone together in the coach or at the inn. He had shared his room with Timothy the valet, and she with Betsey, her abigail, in order to avoid temptation.
Their conversation and manner with each other had never really gone beyond the polite and their common interests, but Blake had been relieved in a way. His feelings were in such turmoil he would probably have blurted out his longings to her if he had not had to maintain his dignified exterior in front of the hired help.
Arabella had soaked up every ounce of his company, basking in the warm glow of his hazel eyes. He might be Leonore's for a few hours at night, but she had him almost all to herself during the days, where it really counted, in his home, sharing everything with him except his bed. Was it so far-fetched to imagine she could share that too?
She knew enough of feminine wiles to be sure she could try to manipulate Blake-a turned ankle, a pretend illness, dining alone with him in her room because fatigued with travel. Any of those might have lured him back behind closed doors and enticingly near a bed, but she was terrified he would think ill of her, send her away, leave her in Somerset. For the sake of the powerful longing she felt burning inside her every time she was with Blake, she might risk losing him forever as a friend. As the guardian of her heart, body and soul. It just wasn't worth the risk.
When they pulled up to the front door of the modest stone-built eighteenth century house, she was glad to have reached her destination at last. Perhaps there would be a chance for some privacy here in the quaint little house.
She stood up to get out, but lurched as the horse took two steps forward. Blake grabbed her and swung her into his arms.
"Are you all right?
"Yes, fine. I just feel a bit dizzy, that's all. As though I haven't stopped moving for days."
A servant opened the front door to them, and Blake asked the butler to show him the way to the chamber which had been set aside for her.
He took her up to her room and laid her gently down on the bed. It was a pleasant room decorated in blue and burgundy, with a pomegranate-patterned spread on the enormous four-poster bed, and matching curtains in the bay windows. The view was a lovely panorama of Bath Abbey and the town.
"There now. You are to rest, do you hear me? Let Betsey unpack for you. And you are to have a tray here in your room, and a bath. I shall make your apologies to Michael at dinner, and see you in the morning."
He stroked her cheek and before he realised what he was doing, he began to untie the strings of her bonnet.
"Blake-"
He placed one finger on her lips. "Don't say anything. You don't have to thank me for taking care of you. It's always my pleasure."
"Are you feeling better, is what I was going to ask," she said, sitting up slightly.
"I am. Now that I've shaken the dirt of London off my feet, I'm feeling much more calm. We must cheer up Michael. I'm sure you'll like him when you meet him. I've told you all about him, so no more mention of what happened in London, eh? He's had a hard time, and we wouldn't want my gloom to add to his."
"I understand. You're a good friend. To him and to me."
"I do try."
She smiled up at him, wondering why he could not see the love in her eyes. "You don't even have to try. I can see why Peter values your friendship so."
"So long as you do, that's the main thing. I'm glad we've been able to put our little difficulties behind us. There isn't one in a hundred women who would have stood up to Rosalie as you've done, or ignored Leonore's attempts to shame me in your eyes."
"I stood up to Rosalie because it was the right thing to do. She needs to know that she cannot behave in any manner she chooses without there being consequences. I would still consider warning your solicitor in regard to what she did. Libel, slander, there must be any number of things he can threaten to sue her for. We should get Alistair Grant's professional opinion on the matter at the very least."
He shrugged. "On the other hand, that might provoke her further. Rest now, pet. Don't start worrying about me when you are so fatigued. It will all be fine. We're here now, and safe from the slings and arrows and calumnies of outrageous people."
She grinned. "I think you need to look up your Hamlet."
"No, I was trying to be creative. I'll see you tomorrow." He kissed her hand tenderly. "Good night, love." The last word slipped out despite his Herculean effort to be restrained and cautious in her room, in her bed.
She did not seem to take it amiss. She smiled at him softly and closed her eyes. "Good night, Blake."
Michael Avenel's home was a typical bachelor establishment, with a manservant, a butler and cook, along with two coachmen and a couple of footmen and gardeners.
/> Betsey the maid was a bit put out that there was no one else female there, but on the other hand she had much chance for diversion with the handsome young men she was now forced to share the servants' quarters with.
Arabella too found the virtually all male household a bit odd, but Michael turned out to be good company, an excellent conversationalist and a most kind host.
Once they had arrived safely, her lovely room was filled with fresh flowers, chocolates and books. A horse was made available to her and a small carriage, and she was given breakfast on a silver tray every morning, even though she would rather have liked to see Blake in the mornings as well for that meal.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 82