Michael Avenel was a handsome man in his late twenties with jet black hair and the most unusual pair of eyes she had ever seen. They were so pale blue as to be almost silver in colour, and piercing, as if he could look right though people. He was scarred from the war in a number of places, with a sabre cut on his left brow which bisected it in two, giving him a look of perpetual inquiry, while the one on his jaw gave him a permanent scowl of disapproval.
Or was it pain? For he was confined to a Bath chair, and she understood from his conversation with Blake that he was in agony, but refused to take any medicine which would dull the ache.
"His own purgatory on earth, you understand. To atone for all of terrible things he believes he has done," Blake told her one evening shortly after they had arrived.
She nodded, and wondered what Blake himself had endured during the war. She felt she knew him so well. Yet there were parts of his life, like Leonore, that she could never touch, and it worried her not a little. How could she love a man who seemed so familiar, yet who she hardly even knew in so many respects?
But it was good to be out of London. Arabella began to relax gradually into the slower routine of country life. After a couple of days of rest after their journey, and exploring the house and the surrounding countryside, as well as getting Arabella's wardrobe in order, they talked about establishing a routine whilst they were there.
"But I would like to go down to my house first at Kennington. For one thing, I have so little with me. I need to sort out my wardrobe and the house."
"Just so. I got recommendations from Thomas and Clifford, and have several letters of application for the role of steward at your home. You shall of course interview them with me. We shall go down on Friday."
"Very good. Thank you."
"What would you like to do today?"
She shrugged. "Go to Salisbury and see the great Stonehenge?" She wasn't sure why she had said it. She had been there once before as a child and not really understood why everyone seemed so fascinated with the large stones. But it was only a few miles away….
"A bit too cold today, don't you think, my dear? We'll go when it's warmer."
"What would you like to do, then?"
Blake dared not answer that question truthfully, for it would have shocked her to the core. He tamped down his rampant desires and said instead, "Take Michael out in the carriage to call on the Elthams and the Davenports?"
"Is Michael is feeling up to it?"
"He says he is."
"And are the Davenports back from Ireland now?"
"Yes, they just got back a few days ago, apparently. I need to see how Sarah is faring."
"If Michael wishes to go, then of course we must go."
"Are you all right? You seem a bit, well, strained."
"Fine, fine." But she did not smile.
"Have you been sleeping well?"
"Yes, fine," she lied.
In fact she had been doing nothing but dreaming about what they had shared at the inn since she had arrived in the district. Her dreams were so detailed and erotic she was having a hard time looking Blake in the face.
Blake sighed. There was something wrong, for certain, but if she would not tell him the truth, there was very little he could do about it.
He wondered if she were pining for London, in particular one of the men she had left behind.
He was surprised and not a little perturbed to find Philip Marshall staying with Thomas and Charlotte when they arrived at Eltham Castle.
"I'm here looking over Alexander and Sarah's house. They've begun building their own, and want to sell Ashton Manor now that Jonathan's wife Pamela is sure they will also not be needing it," he told them. "Very well met indeed."
Blake burned with jealousy, but said nothing as Philip and Arabella went off into a corner together to catch up on each other's news and chat with Michael.
"I'll go over and visit Sarah, and be back shortly," he said with a last long look at the strikingly attractive dark-haired pair.
One look at Sarah Deveril Davenport told him she was blooming. Blake examined her carefully and said he thought the babe was getting into position for her due date.
"Will you be here for the event, do you think?" she asked him hopefully.
"I will. We have various affairs down here that need tending, and I would like to see you through this." He washed up thoroughly after his examination and then said, "How is Alexander faring these days?"
"His back is so much better. His memory is just about all returned so far as he tells me. It was hard for him travelling to Ireland, but he says it was for the best. The weather was most fresh and invigorating, and the sea air."
"Good, glad to hear it."
"And me? When will I be able to travel again after the baby is born?" she asked.
"What, back to Ireland?" he asked in surprise.
"Yes," she said quietly. "Or maybe just London," she added a short time later.
"I would give it about two months at least. You'll be tired, run down. The routine for baby will be exceedingly disrupted if you leave home. Have you got a wet nurse arranged yet?"
"I plan to feed him or her myself."
"I see. Then definitely three months."
She sighed.
"I'm sorry, my dear, but there's nothing more important than your health. So just resign yourself to sitting with your feet up for the next few months, and by May you will be ready to travel."
"Very good then. I shall tell Alexander."
"Surely he would not want to be working so busily when he's just become a new father?"
"Ah, well, sometimes people don't get very much of a choice. Events overtake one on occasion."
Blake couldn't fathom why his old friend's sister was acting so oddly, but he simply shrugged. Pregnant women often got strange fancies. He put it down to the nervousness of a first-time mother.
"Just rest as much as possible. We can discuss this again after he is born. I can't tell you anything for certain until I see how you get through the delivery."
"Thank you very much."
"Now I must get back to my ward Arabella."
"Yes, I had heard all about that, and how marvelous she is at the clinic. Please do bring her around some day."
"If you're sure you're not too tired for guests?"
"Not at all. If as you say I have to sit with my feet up and am confined, I'll welcome the diversion."
He shook hands. Promising that they would come to visit again soon, he returned to Eltham Castle.
By the time he returned, it was obvious that Philip was making every attempt to deepen his friendship with Arabella.
To be fair to Michael, he was also trying to be charming and suave for the sake of Blake, whom he knew was still deeply attached to her, even though he had denied it vehemently and was still persisting in his role of guardian rather than lover.
Arabella liked Philip; there was something so stark and despairing about him at times that she couldn't help but be pleasant to him. But in love with him, no. He was a man with too much to hide. Even had he not been, she felt no spark with him they way she did every time Blake was in the same room.
"Philip will be coming with us to the townhouse for a few days," Thomas informed Blake when he came in to take tea. "Why don't you all join us? It will save Michael driving back and forth to the Baths."
"I will defer to Michael's wishes in this, as he has been a most excellent host, and it's his own convenience we must think of."
"Have you a chamber on the ground floor which would be suited to my use?" Michael asked without a trace of embarrassment.
Arabella's heart went out to him. It had to be hard for him to admit that he was so badly disabled.
"Yes, a couple of different rooms in either house can easily be converted to use as a bedchamber. It will be no trouble at all. You may take your pick."
"Very well, then. What about next Monday? Blake and Arabella will be back from their excursion to her home by then."
"When are you leaving?"
"Thursday. We expect to be back on Monday, so we can meet at the townhouse in Bath."
Arabella looked at him in surprise. This was the first she had heard of such plans. He had said they were going to interview the stewards Friday. Staying four days? What on earth-
Blake could see her staring at him. Really, he was letting his jealousy get the better of him. But Arabella would need time to pack, interview the steward, issues instructions, close up the house, and so on.
He took the opportunity to explain this to her when they were at last alone together in the parlor back at Michael's house that evening after supper. Their weary friend had retired for the night, leaving them alone for almost the first time since they had left London.
"That's very thoughtful of you. I understand it all now. Though I don't really have that much to pack up. Mainly clothes and things."
"I imagine there are a lot of mementoes of your family you would like to have with you, though. Things you have been doing without."
"True, but we're not settled here. I mean, we're moving from house to house staying with friends, and I'm not even sure how long I will remain with you. I mean, if I were to get married or-"
"I doubt you will be getting married in the next few months, at any rate, so I don't see the harm," he said stiffly. "As for Philip Marshall, I like him well enough as a man, and he is a very dear friend of Thomas's, though I am not sure exactly what sort of past history there is between them. I suspect Thomas got him out of some very bad scrape once upon a time.
"But I have to tell you that even Thomas warned me off him. So I have to say candidly that he would not be an appropriate choice should he decide to pay court to you more assiduously than he already has done."
Arabella stared at him, stunned. "Philip? You mistake his intentions. He's only being friendly."
"I know only too well where the friendship of a rake can lead," he drawled sarcastically.
"I give you my word, he has not said or done anything which would lead me to suspect he nurses a tendre for me. Can you say the same of Rosalie and Leonore?" she challenged.
"There's no need to get so defensive."
"I'm not getting defensive. I simply asked…"
Blake lost his temper then. "I am your guardian. You are not mine. I don't have to explain…"
Arabella rose. "You're correct. Forgive me. It just seems that one of us has broken our pact and been dishonest, and it is most certainly not me."
Gripping her knitting as though she would tear it to pieces, she sped out of the room.
Blake was left alone to kick himself mentally for having been so much of an utter fool as to drive her away. And did he know nothing about women? The more he made a fuss about the unsuitability of the man, the more likely it was that she would cling to him. Such was the contrary nature of human relations, and the female gender in particular. Forbidden fruit always seemed to taste sweetest…
Damn and blast, if he wasn't guilty of precisely the same thing! But then he had tasted her, and she had been most sweet. Divine, in fact. Once again he found him wondering how different his life would have been if he had just allowed himself to move a bit further along and-
Hot colour suffused his cheeks and he stood up and poured himself a brandy. Anything to numb the dull ache that filled him every time he thought of Arabella. He sighed and went up to his bedchamber. It was small consolation, but at least he had his lovely torrid dreams of her to keep him company for the long, lonely night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Blake and Arabella departed on Thursday for the journey to her former home at Kennington, a cozy mid-eighteenth century manor house with a central staircase and eight rooms on each floor. Blake was impressed with the house-it was commodious and beautifully decorated. The fields were well-tended, cultivated with winter crops.
Her business affairs ended up keeping them occupied for a full four days, or so Blake thought. He didn't not even suspect that Arabella was in such turmoil over their quarrel and her feelings for him that she was deliberately avoiding him, pretending to be more busy than she was with papers and instructions so she would not have to be alone with him.
Maggie the housekeeper sensed it at once, however. "You're in love with him," she accused, her eyes wide.
"Sush, not so loud, he'll hear you!" She shut the study door quickly.
"Oh, girl, that man is your guardian. It isn't proper."
"I know. But I met him before I knew who he was. He helped me during the whole ordeal after the coach accident. I owe him my life."
"You mustn't confuse gratitude with love."
"I'm not," she denied hotly. "I love everything about him. But he has a mistress, and a former fiancee."
Maggie shook her head. "I'm sorry. That's impossible then. You could never be happy with a man who would be unfaithful."
"But if we were happily married-"
"A leopard never ever changes its spots. If he has been indiscriminate in his dealing with women it will come back to haunt you both whether you want it to or not. You could never trust a man like that."
"He's weak. All of us are sinners."
"Some of us more than others, it would seem," Maggie said with a sniff.
"Really, it's not as bad as it sounds."
"Hmm. If he's supposed to be looking after your welfare, it makes all the difference. Take my advice and find someone more staid, and without a past history such as his."
"All men over the age of twenty most likely have some sort of history," she said with a sigh.
"Yes, but he was in the Army too. If ever there was a sign of trouble, it's that!" Maggie said emphatically.
"Yet he warned me off another nice man about his own age for being too much of a rake, though to be fair I have never seen him manifest anything like unsavoury behaviour in my company. Never once."
"And Dr. Sanderson?" her companion asked sharply.
"No, not really. Certainly not since we have been together as guardian and ward."
"Ah, so he did before, then! I hope you know what you're doing, my girl."
Arabella blushed. "I don't know what I'm doing. That's the trouble. All I know is I've never met anyone like him."
"And he has another woman. Along with someone else who likes him. Go for someone younger, more uncomplicated," she advised. "You've barely spread your wings. Don't tie yourself down to someone you'll always have doubts about."
Maggie raised her considerable bulk from the chair and departed, her nose in the air.
Arabella sighed. If only it were that simple to get Blake out of her head.
A short time later Arabella was still sitting in her study with her head in her hands when she heard a tap at the door.
Blake poked his head around and said, "Everything all right?"
"Yes, of course. Why shouldn't it be?"
He stared at her, stung by her abrupt reply. "I don't know, you seem upset."
"I'm not ill, if that's what you're worried about," she said with a touch of asperity.
He was tempted to wipe the look of cool hauteur off her face with one blistering kiss, but instead he asked, "Would you like to go for a ride?"
"No, no thank you."
"Surely you can't be that busy. I've hardly seen you for these past few days. Get the new steward in here to-"
She glared at him. "I'm being completely uprooted from my family home. Do you not think I have a right to be upset? I know you're only my guardian, but I do have some feelings, you know. I would appreciate you respecting them."
"I would like to think I always do, Arabella," he said, clearly hurt by the accusation.
"Then please go away and leave me to my family business," she said, waving him away.
Blake nodded and withdrew. He felt his chest constricting with despair. She had been acting so oddly ever since their conversation about Philip Marshall....
Blake was even more confused, however, when they returned to Bath and h
e found Adam and Oliver Neville there. Yet more contenders for her hand…
He had hoped staying at the Eltham townhouse would have allowed them to spend more time together under the pretext of socialising with everyone in the house. Now it was as if they were never ever alone, and she made no effort to seek him out to re-establish the former intimate friendship they had once shared.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 83