by Tamara Gill
He nodded, helped her board the other ship and pulled her toward the stairs to go below deck. At the threshold, Arabella turned to see a quick exchange between Lord Montague and Stephen. Her stomach rolled with nerves at having to leave the man she loved. Of course she’d always known the time would come when she would go, but it didn’t make that time any easier when it arrived.
Her father of course wished for his daughter’s happiness, no matter the circumstances or cost to the family. He’d brought her up to think this way, but it would seem when the time came for such choices, men were want to change their minds.
Stephen did not look her way again, and she bit back the tears that threatened. This would be the last time she’d ever see him. In her mind ’s eye, she captured an image of him, every curve, every nuance of his being before he shouted out commands to set sail before disappearing below decks. Out of sight and out of her life. Forever.
Chapter 9
Arabella looked down at her simple blue morning gown and wiped away tears that refused to stop. The past four weeks without Stephen, without waking up next to him, talking to him, laughing with him had been the worst of her life.
She’d made a mistake and now it was too late to change her mind.
“The carriage is here, Arabella. We must leave,” her father said, cold and autocratic as it had been from the moment they stepped foot in London. Not that she cared any longer. One could not care when one no longer had a heart that beat.
She stood and followed her father downstairs and toward the front door. Their two newly hired footmen bowed as she went past and she cringed at the extravagant lifestyle her father had started to live since her betrothal to Lord Montague was secured.
Stephen had been right all along. Her father had a problem handling money, and if his expenditures over the past few weeks were any indication it wouldn’t take him very long to go through what blunt Lord Montague had as well.
She could almost feel sorry for her future husband…should he ever bother to visit her, that was. Not once since she’d been thrust into a carriage on the docks had he come to see her. Yes, missives were sent, notifying her of what he expected her to wear on their wedding day. The rules she should follow once his bride. The most glaringly obvious one being she was not to ask for consummation of the marriage until he was ready. Not that she wanted to sleep with the prig in any case. Even the thought of kissing the man after their wedding sent revulsion to her core.
And yet she wondered at his lordships decree that he would not sleep with her. What gentleman wasn’t ready to claim his wife? None of it made any sense and Stephen’s cryptic words flittered through her mind. What was it that she wasn’t seeing.
She climbed into the carriage and settled back into the leather squabs as her father fussed with his cravat. “Not long now, my dear. I’m so pleased I’ll be able to call you Lady Montague. It has a certain ring about it, don’t you think?”
A terrible one perhaps… “Yes, Father, it’s most exciting.” Her voice dripped with boredom, something she had an inkling her life was going to be from now on. So different to what her life with Stephen might have been. Where was he right at this moment? Was he happy, sad, a thousand miles away on a distant ocean…?
The ride to St James was quick and before long Arabella made her way toward the large double wooden doors. Music started to play as she entered, her hand nestled softly over her father’s. It would be a perfect day, a perfect wedding should she be marrying the man she loved.
But she was not. What a fool she’d been to think putting someone else’s wants and desires above her own heart. Lord Montague didn’t care for her and never would and she was being sold to the highest bidder, and all to keep her father accustomed to a lifestyle he could no longer afford.
Lord Montague looked stunning in his cream satin knee-breeches, perfectly cut blue coat and buckled shoes. He didn’t bother to turn and watch her walk toward him. Instead his back was severely straight, rigid to the point of looking painful.
Her father gave her over to his lordship and returned to the pew. Arabella nodded to the priest for him to begin. She wouldn’t look at Lord Montague. How could she? They were not a good match and nor did she desire him to be her husband. A role she loathed to think on and did not want. If she were truthful with herself, probably never wanted. Back in Malta when he had asked for her hand, she’d been so overjoyed a lord had asked to marry her, she had forgotten to ask herself if she cared that he did. Her father was certainly pleased, which made her also, but thinking back Arabella realized she didn’t care at all for his lordship. Nor ever would.
They started to take their vows, repeating what the priest said to them. Compelled to look at his lordship, she was surprised to see the ashen and fear in Lord Montague’s eyes as if he too was having second thoughts. Hope bloomed in her heart. Maybe there was a chance for all to see sense before it was too late.
She squeezed his hand. “Are you well, my lord?”
His attention wavered from her to her father’s, the fear in his eyes increasing. “Of course, my dear. Just nervous, I believe.”
The priest coughed and she glared at the man of the cloth who rolled his eyes.
Arabella shook her head. “No, it’s not just nerves. You do not want to marry me any more than I wish to marry you.” She turned to her father, done with all the secrets, and pretending all of this was acceptable. “What is going on here that I don’t know about?”
“What do you mean? Proceed this instant. You’re embarrassing the family.”
She scoffed. “How can I embarrass anyone? There isn’t anybody here to see.” She turned back to his lordship. “Do you want to marry me, Frederick? And I want the truth.”
His shoulders slumped, and he shook his head. “I do not.” He took her hand. “There is something your father knows about me that he’s blackmailing me with,” he said, whispering the words so her father would not hear. “My lifestyle has never involved plans of marriage, but when one isn’t careful enough, one can find oneself before a priest marrying a woman, no matter how lovely, that is not who he loves.”
Realization struck her like a blow. How could she not have seen it? She nodded, understanding dawning on her over what Stephen was trying to warn her of all those weeks ago. “I will not marry you, my lord. Not today or ever.” She smiled, hugging his lordship for the first time since their betrothal. “Whatever my father has threatened you with you must forget. I will not allow you to be a part of his deviant money-making schemes.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, child!” Her father scrambled toward them and clasped her arm. She bit back a whimper as his hold increased with every word. “I will ruin him and you should you not do as you’re told. We’ll be finished should you refuse to marry this man. Do you know what that means?”
Arabella wrenched her arm free, seeing her father clearly for the first time. A swindler, a pirate far worse than Stephen ever could be. “Of course I do, but I also know it’s time you held yourself accountable for the way you live your life. Lord Montague should not be your bank just because you assume to know something of his life.”
Her father’s face mottled in anger, his skin turning as red as a lobster. “I forbid you to leave this church unmarried. I’m your father, the head of our household. You will do as you’re told.” His words thundered through the church and out the corner of her eye Arabella noted the priest jumped.
“I will not.” Arabella stood nose to nose with him and refused to give in to her churning stomach. She’d never stood up for herself in such a way in her life. And although liberating, it was also terrifying. She supposed all her weeks with Stephen had given her the strength of mind to call out a wrong when she saw one. Not to sit idly by and allow bad things to happen, but to change them, make situations better if possible. “You cannot make me do something I disagree with. Not to mention threatening Lord Montague as well. How could you act so low? You’re behaving in a way I’m unfamiliar with. W
here is the loving, caring father that I know?”
“Finished, that’s where,” he shouted before his eyes widened in shock.
Arabella clasped her father’s arm as he swayed. His knees buckled under his weight and she screamed for Lord Montague’s help as her father crumbled to the cold, tiled floor.
Commotion erupted behind her, the priest yelling for the altar boys to run for help. Arabella patted his cheek, trying to rouse him in any way she could. “Father? Wake up. Are you all right? Please talk to me.”
He moaned but reached out to take her hand. “My chest. Pain,” he mumbled, closing his eyes again.
Lord Montague placed his coat beneath her father’s head. Arabella didn’t know what to do or how to help him. She called out for water, but her parent just pushed it away when she went to help him drink.
“Please, Father. What can I do? What’s happening?” She sniffed, the thought that he was dying before her eyes more than she could bear. He couldn’t leave her after such a fight. For all his trouble making, his wayward lifestyle, he was her papa. She loved him. “What can we do?”
He shook his head, clasping his chest. “I’m sorry Arabella.”
She kissed his cheek and hugged him. “I’m sorry too. I love you. Please don’t leave me.” Arabella sobbed as the last beat of her father’s heart thumped beneath her ear, before silence reigned. She lay there, the thought that she’d lost the last member of her family and in such a way, under such terrible circumstances beyond comprehension.
Lord Montague pulled her away and gave comfort as best he could. “It’ll be all right, Arabella. I’ll ensure you will be fully taken care of.”
She sobbed against his chest. Even after all her father had put this man through he’d still ensure her well-being. Perhaps her opinion of his lordship was wrong. “No. You don’t have to. This is not your responsibility. You’ve been too kind after everything I’ve put you through. How will I ever thank you?”
He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her tears. “No thanks are needed.” A group of men, one carrying a bag and Arabella assumed to be a doctor, ran into the church. She sat on a pew knowing there wasn’t anything they could do for her father.
Guilt over their fight, one of the last moments she had with the man who raised her tore at her soul. How could she be so heartless?
“I will not let you think this is your fault.” Lord Montague sat beside her. “The doctor is saying it looks like he’s had a heart seizure of some kind. I can see by your face you’re blaming yourself and you should not. Terrible tragedies happen, my dear. No one is to blame.”
“But I fought with him, made his temper rise more than I should.”
“And rightly so. What your father was doing was wrong and you’re a remarkable woman having stood up for me and your life like you did.” His lordship took her hand, patting it kindly. “Do not forget he apologized, Arabella. He knew within himself that what he was doing was wrong. Please do not blame yourself about what has transpired here today. It could’ve happened anywhere and at any time.”
The doctor echoed Lord Montague’s words, but it still didn’t make the passing of her only living parent easier. From this moment on, she was truly alone. Even Stephen was lost to her and his lordship would no doubt go on with his life less a wife just as he should.
What would she do? Where would she go? Once her father’s debts were settled by the sale of their London home, she’d be homeless, friendless even. To cry off a marriage to a peer of the realm was no small thing. From this day forward, she would truly be ruined.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. Sure, she had wished for freedom to choose her own future, to pick her own husband and the sort of life she wanted to lead, but never at the cost of her father’s life.
Never that.
Chapter 10
Stephen strolled across a paddock covered with heather and wildflowers which would, over the next few weeks, give way to a highland winter. And if the chilling wind from the north was any indication, this year may the coldest he’d had to live through in many years.
Sailing and living mostly in foreign places with sandy beaches and a warm sun on his back was a pleasant distant memory that haunted him. Well, it would haunt him until his body acclimatised to Scotland. He’d never known such a cold place and yet he would not wish to be anywhere else in the world.
In the distance rose the small castle he now called home. The brown and gold stone a beacon in the otherwise green landscape. It was all he had now. Having sold his ship to give his men the future they deserved, the funds that were left over were soon eaten up with the repairs he’d had to make to the leaking castle roof.
The home farms should start to make profit again and even though there wasn’t a lot of blunt left from his smuggling days, it was enough to keep him and his mother, who’d he’d moved up here as well, reasonably comfortable for a year or two until the estate was self-sufficient once more.
A distant rumble sounded in the south and he turned to peer at the only road that ran into his property. He frowned having not expected anyone of than the Duke of Dale, who wasn’t due to arrive for some weeks.
A carriage, covered with dust and mud from the unforgiving Scottish highland roads materialized after coming around the last curve in the road. The cattle looked well defined and expensive. Maybe Gabe had come early.
He made his way toward the house by following an old sheep track that wound its way down the hillside. The staff came out to greet the vehicle and to help the occupants to step down.
Stephen’s step faltered when a vision in an emerald green travelling gown alighted and looked about with interest. Instead of her long brown locks falling loose about her shoulders, they were coiled up into a coiffure on top of her head.
He continued walking on, watching her, taking his fill of the one woman he’d longed to see more than the highlands sunrise.
Arabella…
She followed his footman into the house and he lost sight of her. Stephen went around the back of the house, dropped the game birds he’d been able to kill in to the kitchens, and notified cook that he’d have a guest at dinner.
The jovial woman took the news with aplomb and busied herself with renewed vigour having someone other than his mother and himself to cook for.
Stephen headed for the front drawing room, once the castle’s old solar and entered without knocking. Arabella stood beside the bookcase that covered one whole wall, her attention riveted on the works of the greats. “Good afternoon, Lady Montague. I had not expected to see you again.” He shut the door, seating himself at the desk while trying to busy himself with the mail with little success. The thought she was here, married and no longer accessible to him drove him insane.
It was not to be borne. He closed his eyes for a moment, and fought for calm lest he throw his blotter against the wall or something even more ridiculous.
“Hello, Stephen.” She sat in the chair before his desk and smiled. “I’m sorry to intrude on you without notice, but I was afraid you wouldn’t see me if I wrote and notified you of my intention to call.”
“And what possibly could be your intention? I believe everything we’ve said to one another has left no stone unturned.” She paled a little at his words and he wanted to go to her, to hold her, comfort her in any way he could. Stephen gritted his teeth and didn’t move.
“You never told me about your lineage or about this ancestral home you’ve purchased since your grandfather lost it all at a game of cards.”
Stephen started. Not many knew that’s why. “I see you’ve been talking to the Duke of Dale.”
She gave a decisive nod. “I have. And what a tale of foe he told me.” A small frown line appeared between her perfect brows. “Why did you never tell me?”
Just the thought of how low the family had fallen left him hollow inside. “No one knows, and I don’t like talking about my family or their fall from grace. Life on the sea was the only option left for me and I made the most of
it. I may no longer have a title, but I have my ancestral home back. I’m satisfied.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of your accomplishments. You have not had the easiest life, and yet you still achieved your goals. I too can only wish that should my situation ever be similar that I would act the same. Not settle for less than what I deserve.”
A lump formed in Stephen’s throat having not expected to hear such pride in her words. Nor that Arabella’s belief in him was so important. Yet, it was.
“Are you angry I came? I thought…” her voice trailed off and she fidgeted with the hem of her glove.
“What, Miss Hester?”
Arabella stood and went to the sideboard and after pouring herself a brandy, downed it in one swallow. She coughed before walking over to him, rolling back his chair and sitting before him on his desk.
Stephen’s body thrummed in anticipation. There was never any doubt Arabella could be a seductive minx when she wished, but he never thought she’d be so once married. Had she married him at least he’d never allow her out of his sight. Lord Montague was a fool who didn’t know a gem when he held one in his hand. “What are you doing?” He cleared his throat, his voice sounding even tight to his own ears.
“I want you. All of you.” She sat on his lap and pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. “I never married Lord Montague. You are the man I want to marry and to spend the rest of my days with. It is you I love.” Stephen watched her a moment, read the sincerity in her gaze. She never married Lord Montague?
He pulled back, startled by her words. “What happened?” Sadness clouded her eyes and he frowned. “Tell me what happened, Arabella.”
She sighed. “The wedding went ahead as planned. I would do my duty for my father, but as I was walking down the aisle, no guests present to celebrate our wedding and my betrothed who looked like I was a noose about his neck I realized I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t put another person’s happiness before my own. I was tired of being ordered about by the men in my life.” She gave him a small smile. “I halted the ceremony and discussed my fears with Lord Montague. He was in agreement. It seems Father had been blackmailing him in relation to sexual trysts with men. I was horrified to find out Father had acted so low.” She paused, her lip wobbling. “My father passed away.”