by Regina Darcy
The slamming of the door was his only answer.
Frustrated beyond measure, Peter stalked the length of the corridor, not knowing what to do. He knew he had a duty to speak to his brother about what exactly was going on with Lady Bentley, but he felt utterly desperate about Miss Cartwright.
He wanted to speak to her, to explain all, and beg her to understand, but she did not wish to see him anymore it seemed. Of course, he could not blame her for feeling as she did, for his own words had trapped him.
He had mentioned Eleanor without a thought, and she had made her own conclusions from there. Now, it seemed, she thought he had been in love with the Duke’s wife, which was why he had painted so many portraits of her.
Throwing open the door to his private rooms, Peter pulled down a smock and prepared his brushes. Until his brother returned home, it seemed there was nothing for him to do and, given the circumstances, he would not spend his time wandering the hallways, wishing Arabella would deign to speak to him again. No, instead, he would put this time to good use.
Pulling out a new canvas, he settled it on the easel, and chewed on the end of his brush as he contemplated what to paint. He had become so used to painting Eleanor that his hands and mind did not know what else to do.
Sighing heavily, he dropped his head into his hands. He would paint her again if he had to. One last time, to get her entirely out of his heart and mind.
Dipping his paintbrush into the wet paint, he began to draw, his emotions rolling through his body, down his hand, and onto the canvas.
***
Four hours later, Peter was utterly exhausted. He had even wept whilst he’d worked, although he would not let anyone know that had occurred. Stepping back from his canvas, he dropped his paintbrush in astonishment, staring at his work.
Instead of Eleanor, there sat Arabella, her eyes looking up at him with a grave expression. He had not intended to paint her, had never even thought of doing so, yet there she sat.
His heart slammed into his chest as he studied her. She was not smiling, nor was she angry, but instead there came a quiet observation of him, as though she was looking into his soul and was confused over what she found there. It was almost too intense for him to bear, despite being a painting.
Neither had he painted her as a governess. Instead, she was as the first night he had seen her, dressed in a beautiful ball gown with her hair softened around her face. Had she really made such an impression on him?... It would seem so.
Pulling off his smock, he threw down his paintbrush and picked up his canvas. He could not keep this in here, knowing that it would be waiting for him every time he returned. Instead, he walked along the corridor and climbed the stairs.
Finding her room was not difficult, given that it was next to the nursery. He thought about knocking but instead chose to leave the canvas just outside her door.
“I will not ask you to speak to me now,” he whispered softly against the door.
“But there is more to the situation than I was able to say, Miss Cartwright. Please, do not disregard me completely before allowing me to explain what occurred between myself and the Duchess. It is not as you think, I give you my word.” His voice broke, as pain filled his heart.
Giving the canvas one more look, he sighed heavily before walking away. He was leaving his canvas—and his heart—on the floor, in her care. She could decide what to do with them both.
As he walked back to his rooms, Peter felt his heart grow heavy.
“Peter?”
Glancing up, he saw his mother walking along the hallway towards him. Clearing his throat, he tried to smile.
“Yes, mama?”
“Is everything quite all right?”
He sighed, wondering if she was going to ask him about his early departure.
“Everything is fine, mama. Did you have a good time?”
“Wonderful,” she replied, shortly. Her eyes pierced him as if she were looking into his soul. He had never truly been able to hide from his mother’s gaze.
“You have changed recently, Peter,” his mother murmured, pressing her hand on his arm. “While I am fully aware of your lack of regard for Lady Bentley, you have not gone riding off to your usual vices so much of late.”
“Then you have Miss Cartwright to thank for that,” Peter replied, quietly. “She is quite an extraordinary woman, mama.”
His mother stilled.
“The governess?”
He rolled his eyes.
“You need not worry I have defiled her, mama. I simply enjoy her conversation at times.”
The Dowager Duchess nodded slowly, her grip on his arm relaxing. “Then I am glad to hear she is having such a profound effect on your character, Peter. Perhaps she might even be able to convince you to stop growling at Lady Bentley!”
I doubt it, Peter thought to himself, giving his mother a tight smile before walking away. Now that he knew the truth about Lady Bentley, he had to consider exactly what to do—and how to ensure that Miss Cartwright knew the truth about him and the late Duchess.
FIFTEEN
Arabella felt numb, attempting to return to her work with the knowledge she now possessed. Over the next three days, she pushed herself to engage with the children, but her heart would not leave Lord Daven.
Over and over, she relived him saying Eleanor’s name, recalling the exact moment she had made the stunning realisation. How long had he been in love with the former Duchess? Had the Duke known? Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to steel herself against the sudden rush of tears.
Pushing her bedroom door firmly closed, Arabella’s gaze fell on the painting she had found outside her door a few days earlier. At the time, she had wanted to throw it away, but instead, she had taken it inside and set it by the fireplace. Unfortunately for her, the maid had found it and set it upon the mantelpiece, and she had not had the heart to move it since.
It was a thing of beauty that much was true. He had captured her very essence it seemed, and there was so much detail in it that Arabella found she was unable to destroy it.
What had possessed him to draw her? Was she now to become his new muse, since he had destroyed all his previous paintings of Eleanor? Or was that his way of attempting to encourage her back into his confidence? Regardless, she would not be so easily moved.
Sighing heavily, Arabella recalled his words, spoken so softly to her from outside her bedroom door. “It is not as you think,” she repeated to herself. “I give you my word.” Did she believe him? Shaking her head, Arabella knew she did not know what to believe, nor what to think.
She had believed there had been an affection growing between them, only for him to shatter that illusion with the truth. He would never allow himself to love again since he was still in love with the woman he could never have. Instead, he was simply using her for sport, kissing her whenever he wished. How foolish she had been to give in so easily!
A sharp rap on the door had her starting with surprise.
“Come in,” she quivered, wondering if it was Lord Daven defying all proper decorum to get her to speak to him, only to be relieved at the sight of the butler.
“You are requested, Miss Cartwright.”
She frowned, unsure as to what he meant.
“Requested?”
He nodded. “The Duke wishes to speak to you.”
“Oh.”
“He awaits you in the drawing room, I believe.”
Gathering herself, and hoping she did not look too pale, Amelia thanked the butler and followed him from the room.
As she walked towards the drawing room, Amelia tried to quell the rolling in her stomach. She was quite sure Lady Bentley had not stopped talking about Arabella’s role in the household, as well as her desire for her to be gone from the house.
It seemed Lord Daven had not yet spoken to his brother, for Lady Bentley was still here and if Arabella was correct, still held influence over the Duke. Her hands curled into fists as she walked, feeling utterly despondent
over the thought of being sent away from the Abbey.
“Miss Cartwright?”
Lord Daven stepped out from a doorway, looking at her in surprise. “Are you on your way to the library?”
She shook her head, wishing her heart did not fill with so much affection for him, particularly when she knew the truth about his character. She so desperately wanted to believe that the Heavenly Father would not have put a man that could steal away her heart on her path, if they were not a match made in heaven. She took a deep breath and steeled herself against the sight of him.
“The Duke has requested my presence in the drawing room,” she explained, skirting around him. “So, if you will excuse me.”
He stepped in front of her again, stopping her in her steps. “What a shame. I had been hoping you had come to speak to me.”
Growing a little frustrated, Arabella gave him a tight smile. “No, I was not.”
“Did you get my portrait?”
He was looking at her so earnestly that Arabella felt her irritation soften slightly. “Yes, I did, Lord Daven. It is wonderful, if not a little inappropriate.”
Smiling at her, Lord Daven’s eyes filled with something akin to grief. “I should have put her behind me long ago, Miss Cartwright. There is more to this story than you realise, for I spoke so foolishly of her that it is little wonder you think so ill of me.”
“Please,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “Not now. I must speak to the Duke, although I might guess as to what he will say.”
“Oh?”
Seeing the intrigued look on his face, Arabella sighed inwardly, knowing she was not about to escape him without an explanation.
“You have not spoken to the Duke, I believe, and Lady Bentley is still here and, I presume, still seeks my ejection from this house. I fully expect to be packing my things before the night is through.”
Shock filled his features before his lips tightened into a thin line. Letting out an exasperated breath, he ran a hand through his hair.
“You are correct, Miss Cartwright. I have not spoken to my brother. I believe other matters have occupied my thoughts—namely, you.”
At the intensity of his gaze, Arabella felt her breath catch in her chest. She bit her lower lip. Oh, how she wished she did not find him so fiendishly attractive.
“That said, the moment the Duke returned, that day we first spoke, I should have confronted him,” he continued, when she did not respond. “I will not allow you to be so unjustly dismissed, I promise you. Therefore, I will come along with you, and we shall see to it that you receive your reassurance directly from my brother.”
“Truly, there is no need,” Arabella exclaimed, only for his finger to brush her lips, silencing her.
“But how else am I to prove my affections to you?” he asked quietly. “Arabella, I will not allow you to be so poorly treated. It is time the truth was out. Come now, no more arguments. We will go together.”
Arabella had no choice but to follow Lord Daven to the drawing-room, knowing that the Duke was waiting. She had no time to think about what he’d meant by suggesting he needed to prove his affections to her, nor what he’d meant by the truth coming out.
Was he speaking just of the Duke and Lady Bentley, or of himself and his love for Eleanor? Was he finally to reveal his long-held love for the Duke’s wife? Arabella’s stomach began to churn with anxiety and nerves. It could all go so terribly wrong.
“Ah, Miss Cartwright,” the Duke smiled, as she walked in, careful to curtsy. “Thank you for coming so promptly.”
“Of course,” Arabella murmured, rising carefully as she gazed at Lady Bentley who was sitting opposite the Duke. She wore a triumphant smile on her face, as though she had already won some hard fought battle.
“Peter,” the Duke continued, spotting his brother. “I do not think this meeting requires your presence.”
Arabella’s stomach knotted as Lord Daven strolled past her, sitting down comfortably in one of the nearby chairs.
“Oh, but I believe it does, Ainsley,” he replied calmly. “In fact, I am beginning to wonder whether I should call mother as well.”
Watching the Duke closely, Arabella noticed a slight frown cross his face, before his eyes narrowed.
“No,” he said, slowly. “I do not think mama needs to be here.” Turning his attention back to Arabella, he gave her a stiff smile. “The reason I asked you here, Miss Cartwright, is because I must terminate your employment.”
Arabella’s stomach dropped to her toes.
SIXTEEN
“Have I done something to upset you?” Arabella asked, wishing her voice did not squeak in such a ridiculous manner. The thought of being separated from the children, never to see them again, burned her soul.
Turning her gaze to Lord Daven, fresh pain sliced through her heart. She would be kept from him too, and that pain she was unable to ignore. Despite what he had revealed, she cared for him—loved him even.
Lifting her chin, and refusing to allow herself to cry, Arabella turned her attention back to the Duke.
“I had not been aware that there was anything of concern about my conduct.”
“There has not been,” the Duke replied, appearing uncomfortable. “I have decided to take on a governess with a touch more experience.” His eyes drifted towards Lady Bentley, who was looking at Arabella with something akin to derision.
“And has Miss Cartwright’s lack of experience had a detrimental effect on your two children?”
Surprised, Arabella saw Lord Daven regarding the Duke with an almost casual scepticism, as though he was fully aware of what his brother’s response would be.
“Why, no,” the Duke replied, honestly. “It may prove difficult, however, as they grow.”
“It may?” Lord Daven sounded a little incredulous, frowning at his brother. “That is no reason to terminate someone’s employment, Ainsley.”
The Duke turned to him with a glare.
“It is none of your concern, so I’ll thank you to stop interfering. I am doing what I believe to be best for my children.” He turned back to Arabella. “I thank you for your service, of course, Miss Cartwright. You shall have an excellent reference, of course.”
“I—” Arabella began, feeling entirely dejected. “I shall pack my things at once.”
“You shall do no such thing,” Lord Daven replied, his voice filling the room. “Why not sit down, my dear? I believe we have some things to discuss.”
Arabella did not know what else to do, other than obey, such was the authority in his voice. Hesitantly, she sat down in a wooden chair, her back completely straight. She stared up at Lord Daven, wondering what exactly he was going to say.
“What do you mean by this, Peter?” the Duke snorted, rolling his eyes and sitting down close to Lady Bentley. “We have had our arguments in the past, but this is not a matter for your attention.”
“It does matter to me because I have found Miss Cartwright to be a most amenable young lady, who has uncovered something of great importance.”
“Great importance?” Lady Bentley sneered, speaking for the first time. “She is a governess, Daven.”
Lord Daven gave her a cutting look. “You would be best to remain silent, my lady.”
“How dare you!” the Duke exclaimed, getting to his feet. “She is to be my wife, Peter!”
“Oh?” Lord Daven’s face took on a slightly more interested look. “And when is this to be announced?”
“Very soon, I can assure you,” the Duke retorted, his face pinched. “I intend to call on her father within the next sennight.”
Lord Daven nodded, slowly. “And what exactly is her hold over you, Ainsley?”
The air grew thick with tension, to the point that Arabella wished she could leave the room until all had been settled. Instead, she interlaced her fingers tightly and kept her gaze on Lord Daven. He was studying the Duke with such intensity, that Arabella wondered if he was attempting to get the man to tell the truth without hi
m having to force it out of him.
“I do not know what matter you are referring to,” the Duke replied quietly. “You should tread very carefully, brother.”
To Arabella’s consternation, Lord Daven walked over to her and held out his hand.
“Come, my dear,” he said to her, his eyes filled with courage and strength. “You must speak out about what you heard. My brother will not believe me on my own account and will keep the truth to himself. Come now, Miss Cartwright. Now is the time to be bold. You may be the one to save this family.”
Arabella stared into Lord Daven’s eyes. “No,” she whispered. “I cannot. She is his betrothed.”
“You must,” he said, firmly, although a soft smile lit his features. “Please, I beg of you, Miss Cartwright. If not for me, then for the children. They cannot be burdened with such an unloving mother.”
That was the jolt that Arabella required.
Elizabeth and David needed her to tell the Duke the truth of what she had heard, in the hope that Lord Daven would be able to sort the entire situation out.
“Your Grace,” she began, getting to her feet. “I was not eavesdropping, I assure you, but I did hear Lady Bentley threaten you. To this day, I have not sought out more, so I do not know with what she is blackmailing you, but I am aware of your predicament in its simplest form.”
Standing completely still, Arabella’s skin began to prickle. She dared a glance at Lady Bentley, who was staring at her venomously. Trembling, Arabella lifted her chin another fraction, hoping that the Duke would say something soon.
Lord Daven slipped a hand around her waist, and Arabella tried not to sag against him.
“And so, you see, brother dear,” he said, breaking the silence. “Miss Cartwright told me what she had heard, and I am determined to speak to you about whatever it is this creature—” he shot a dark look towards Lady Bentley, “has over you.”
Lady Bentley let out a long, shrill laugh.
“Come now, Lord Daven,” she chuckled, waving her hand around. “You cannot believe that I am blackmailing the Duke into matrimony based on the testimony of a governess!” She rolled her eyes, placing her hand into the crook of the Duke’s arm. “A governess, really!”