He scowled. "I'm telling you what I remember—I can do no more than that."
"And I don't believe you," she shot back.
His lips tightened, and one hand clenched into a fist. Temper riding him, he snarled, "If you were a man, I would knock you down for that statement."
For the longest time they regarded each other across the short space that divided them. Both were angry and hurt, and neither was willing to give an inch.
"We seem to have reached an impasse," Tony finally said. "Obviously we have nothing more to say to each other."
There was a note of finality about his words that sent a shaft of ice through Arabella's heart, but she merely said quietly, "I would say that you are right."
His head bent, his expression hidden from her, Tony smoothed an imaginary crease from the jacket of his sleeve.
"I must have been a fool," he said softly, almost to himself, "to think that this time I could make things work out right." He glanced across at her, his gaze frighteningly remote. "And since I see no happy outcome for us, I will cut my losses." His lips twisted. "Gambling, you know, it's in my blood."
"What do you mean?" Arabella asked, a flutter of panic deep in her belly.
"Why, only that you have won, sweetheart," he drawled. "Jeremy shall have his vowels and I"—his voice hardened—"I shall not subject you to my company again. You have what you wanted, Arabella. The vowels are yours with no conditions attached—I shall have them delivered to your brother tomorrow morning. And as for your mistress, ah, duties, I set you free. Consider our bargain at an end—I'll not sully you with my touch again."
He spun on his heel and walked to the French doors. Standing in the open doorway, he paused and looked back briefly, and then he was gone, leaving only a black empty hole where he had stood. A black, empty hole like the one that bloomed in Arabella's breast.
Chapter 13
During the remaining hours of the night and all the next day, Arabella constantly turned the events of the disastrous evening with Tony over in her mind, minutely examining every word, every gesture, trying painfully to discover the moment when everything had gone so very wrong. Bleakly, she wondered if and how she could have handled anything any differently.
She had never once doubted Tony's version of his two marriages, nor the circumstances surrounding the deaths of his two wives—despite all the stories to the contrary. She knew that he regretted bitterly his wild, debauched youth, that he was ashamed of the selfish way he had treated Mercy and the irresponsible way he had chosen both Mercy and Elizabeth to be his wives.
She had never held his past against him, aware of the way both sets of his grandparents had doted upon him. It would have been astonishing if he had been anything but arrogant and spoiled. The important thing, she had told herself, was that he hadn't stayed that way, that he had matured and tried to rectify his mistakes—she believed that truly, else she would never have been able to fall so completely in love with him.
But the affair with Molly Dobson had shown Arabella that he was still capable of acting with reckless arrogance. And the knowledge that another of those careless wagers had piqued his initial interest in her only added to his crimes.
Thinking about the past, brooding on their argument did nothing to lift her spirits and with an effort, she tried to put Tony Daggett and their briefly mingled lives away from her. It was not easy.
Jeremy came to call Monday afternoon, mystified and jubilant that the vowels had been returned to him that very morning. His blue eyes bright, he bounded into the room, where she was sitting listlessly mending a linen tablecloth, and exclaimed, "I say, Bella, Tony Daggett is not such a bad sort, after all. I don't know what changed his mind, but he rode slap up to the front door of Highview this morning, asked to speak to me, and, to my astonishment, handed me the vowels and told me to tear up that document he had signed."
His words stabbed her. Any hopes that Tony had not been serious were dashed. He obviously intended to have nothing to do with her—ever. How she smiled and acted thrilled for Jeremy she never knew. She was just grateful when, whistling merrily, he rode away from Greenleigh.
To Arabella's dismay, she discovered that she missed Tony dreadfully. He had been back in her life for such a short time and yet she found, as one week became two, that the ache in her heart only grew worse. She tried to bury herself in the refurbishing of Greenleigh, but her enthusiasm had faded, and she only listened indifferently to the Tidmores' proposed changes, sometimes approving items for purchase and renovations, having no idea to what she had agreed.
The night of the Crockers' ball arrived, and since she had already written her acceptance weeks ago, reluctantly she dressed and ordered a carriage to take her to Broadmount, the Crocker plantation. She had hoped that being out with friends would lift her spirits and shake her out of the doldrums. Instead she came home more angry, depressed, and confused than she had started out.
Tony had been at the Crockers. She had been startled when she had spied him across the room, his dark head bent as he listened carefully to something that the eldest Crocker daughter, Margaret, was saying to him. The smile he flashed at Margaret's upturned dazzled face did nothing for Arabella's peace of mind.
She wasn't exactly surprised to see Tony at the Crocker ball. Despite his reputation, he was well-bred and wealthy, and his handsome face and charming manners opened many a door to him that might have remained steadfastly shut. People might deplore his actions and gossip happily about him, but only the highest sticklers, like her father and Mr. Haight, would turn their backs on the opportunity to align themselves with the Daggett fortune and name.
The elder Crockers were a genial couple, well-known for their hospitality and their long friendship with Tony's grandparents, so Tony's presence was not the shock it would have been at a ball given by someone else.
Deliberately, Arabella kept the width of the wide ballroom on the second floor of the gracious Crocker house between herself and Tony. It was easy, since Tony appeared to be completely captivated by Margaret's speaking eyes and laughing mouth. Arabella told herself that she was not jealous, but having had a fondness for Margaret in the past, she decided that perhaps her affection for the young woman was misplaced. Margaret, she discovered, was a forward minx. Just look at the way she was hanging on Tony's every word and blatantly ogling him. Disgraceful!
Finding that watching Tony and Margaret flirting together was doing nothing for her temper, she made her way through the handsomely garbed throng to one of the long refreshment tables in an adjoining room. Accepting a glass of lemonade punch, she looked at the array of food spread out before her but found that she was not hungry—not even for delicate pastries filled with creamed chicken and fresh peas.
She spied Mary and Agatha sitting together with several other older ladies against one wall of the ballroom and strolled over to join them. Greetings were exchanged; a chair was brought for her, and she settled down to enjoy herself—even if it killed her.
For a while she did enjoy herself. Mary related an amusing story about the two younger boys and a baby raccoon they had brought home, and Agatha, continuing to astonish Arabella, unbent enough to give a lively account of her journey upstream to Natchez.
"I tell you," Agatha said, "that I feared every night that I would wake up to find that we had been attacked by bandits. There was a rumor that those terrible Harpes had been seen in the area." She gave a theatrical shudder. "And everyone knows what would have happened if we had crossed their paths."
Several of the ladies nodded. Tales of the atrocities committed by the Harpe brothers, Micajah, "Big Harpe," and Wiley, "Little Harpe," traveled all up and down the Natchez Trace, their usual hunting grounds. Though the Trace actually ended at Natchez, it was known that the Harpes sometimes traveled farther south, and Agatha's fears were not unfounded. Stories of their many wanton killings and mutilations made for grisly talk, but there in the brightly lit ballroom of Broadmount, surrounded by a merry crowd of friends and f
amilies, the ladies thoroughly enjoyed exchanging lurid tidbits about "those dreadful Harpes."
Thinking of the long, dark drive home, with only Tidmore as company, Arabella was glad when the subject was changed to gossip about the courtship of a longtime widow and an elderly bachelor. Not really interested in the topic, her attention wandered, and her heart felt as if it had dropped right to her toes when her idle gaze happened to meet Tony's across the width of the ballroom.
He was staring at her intently, his brilliant blue eyes boldly holding her own, his mouth unsmiling, and his expression bleak. From the look on his face, if she had not known better, she would have thought him bitterly unhappy, even angry, but having seen him only moments before laughing and teasing with Margaret Crocker she was certain she was misreading his expression. Besides, she told herself as she wrenched her gaze from his to stare blindly at the various dancers moving around the floor, he had no reason to be unhappy, or angry—he was the one who had ended their affair.
For the remainder of the evening, she kept her eyes fixed firmly in front of her, not daring to risk encountering Tony's disturbing gaze again. She laughed and chatted gaily with friends and family, flirted amiably with Richard Kingsley and even danced with Burgess Daggett and then later with Richard and still later, Franklin. She even shared a few words with Alfred Daggett and managed to give Vincent Walcott a polite nod. Mr. Haight was also there with his plump little wife, and she spent time talking idly with them.
In addition to keeping the width of the ballroom between herself and Tony, she also managed to avoid Patrick Blackburne. To anyone watching her, it might be assumed that she was having a wonderful time. Certainly no one would have guessed that her heart was breaking and that she wished herself a thousand miles away.
How she got through the remainder of the dreadful evening she was never certain. She had considered leaving as soon as was polite, and only the bitter knowledge that Tony would view her early withdrawal as retreat kept her standing and smiling and talking long after she would have left. Just after one o'clock in the morning, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tony taking his leave of the Crockers and knew that her torture was over. Tony had barely strolled out the door before she was saying her good-byes to the Crockers and asking for her carriage to be brought around to the front of the house.
Intent upon escape, she was almost at the door when Richard caught her. Smiling down at her, he asked in a low voice, "May I have the honor of escorting you home this evening?"
With the tales of the Harpe brothers still fresh in her mind, Arabella accepted his protection.
Kissing her hand politely, he said, "I shall be only a moment—I must take my leave of the Crockers and have my horse brought 'round."
Her green paisley shawl draped around her shoulders, she waited inside the entrance of the house, wondering if she had been hasty in accepting his offer. Normally she would have kept Richard at arm's length, well aware that he harbored ideas of strengthening the existing tie between them by the simple expediency of marriage. Her father had approved of Richard's subtle courtship, and she could not say that marriage to Richard would be a terrible thing. There was much to recommend him; he was well-bred, handsome, wealthy, and not unkind. Arabella frowned. He was also vain, selfish, and held a high opinion of his own opinions. She didn't precisely dislike Richard, although he often irritated her intensely, and it was flattering to be courted, however tepidly, by a gentleman of Kingsley's station, but she had always been wary of him. His talk against Tony prior to and during their engagement had not endeared him to her—even if his motives were pure, which she doubted.
But that evening he had caught her in a weak moment, and she had been far more encouraging to him than she would have been under usual circumstances. Doubt about the wisdom of her actions gnawed at her, and she watched the approach of his tall form with growing apprehension. Well, she had only herself to blame she admitted sourly. And so help me, she thought grimly, if he presses his suit or makes advances, I shall give his ears a boxing he'll not soon forget. I am in no mood for dalliance tonight—not even respectable dalliance!
With a smile on her lips that gave no clue to her inner thoughts and her hand resting on Richard's arm, they began to walk across the broad veranda to where Tidmore was waiting in the carriageway with her vehicle; Richard's restive bay mount was being tied by a small black boy at the rear of the light carriage.
The veranda and wide steps that led to the carriageway were well lit by several lanterns, and they were almost halfway across the veranda when Arabella noticed Tony, his back to her, standing on the second step. She would have recognized those broad shoulders and that arrogantly held head anywhere, and she stiffened, uneasy about a possible confrontation.
Richard felt her tighten. Catching sight of Tony and guessing the cause of her reaction, he bent his head near hers, and murmured, "You have nothing to fear, my dear. I will not let him make a scene."
She smiled faintly, never thinking until that moment that there would be a time she would actually be grateful to Richard.
They changed their direction slightly, planning to descend on the far side of the steps, when the sound of a woman's voice rang through the night, stopping them in their tracks—as well as several other late-departing guests behind them.
"Oh, cruel, cruel seducer! To leave me penniless and alone! To abandon me, giving no thought to my future!"
Arabella recognized Molly Dobson's voice and spied her immediately where Molly stood at the edge of the carriageway, the lantern's wavering light eerily revealing her blond beauty. Feeling as if she had plunged into a nightmare, Arabella stood frozen to the spot, unable to move. All the pain of the last, terrible time she had seen Molly came rushing back; for a moment she thought she would faint.
Fighting back the black void that threatened to overcome her, she swayed, and Richard's arm quickly closed around her waist, cradling and supporting her. Her cheeks fiery red, furious with herself for her sign of weakness, she instantly recovered.
Standing bolt upright, she said quietly, "I am fine, thank you. I have no need of assistance."
"No, I agree—poor Tony is the one who needs help," Richard said with malicious pleasure.
Despite the anguish of the situation, Arabella couldn't help but feel a pang for Tony. To be confronted by one's past in such an embarrassing and public manner could not be pleasant—not even for someone like Tony Daggett.
"You left me with nothing!" cried Molly in a pitiful voice, her blue eyes brimming with tears, her features pale and strained. "Did you never wonder what would become of me?"
Whatever emotions he was experiencing, Tony gave no sign. His head held proudly, his legs spread as if prepared to repel an attack, he said coolly, "Hardly. As I recall you were paid and paid well for your services—months before I left Natchez."
"Oh, vile, vile creature! You ruined me!" Molly spit, anger giving the words the color of truth. "I was but a poor innocent until you seduced me and then heartlessly discarded me and left me to fend for myself in the only way I could!"
Tony laughed, real amusement in his voice. "That horse won't run, Molly, and you know it. You were no innocent." He smiled at her outraged features.
"How dare you say such lies about me!" she shrieked, her fists clenching at her sides, her face contorted with fury. This was not the reaction she had expected. He was supposed to be ashamed and embarrassed. He should be humiliated, eager to slink away.
Tony was none of those things. If anything, he appeared faintly amused by the scene. He certainly seemed unaware of the shocked and revolted faces of the guests who were reluctant spectators to this ugly scene. He was as self-possessed as ever, acting as if he and Molly were alone, discussing a minor disagreement, and that there were not a dozen or so prominent men and women, privy to his most intimate affairs.
"There is nothing to dare," Tony drawled. "Your profession is well-known. I was but one of many..." His voice hardened. "And I'd give a small fortune t
o know who put you up to this little charade."
"Charade!" Molly screeched. "Nay, nay! It is no charade—you deserted me, coldly abandoned me to my fate." Panting, her magnificent bosom heaving, she moved nearer to the base of the steps. "Did you never think that when you abandoned me, that you might have left me with part of yourself?"
Tony stiffened, even from where she stood, Arabella could see the change in his stance.
"And what," he asked in grim tones, "do you mean by that?"
Molly smiled, pleased with his reaction. "Why only, good sir, that when you sailed away to England that you left me... with your child!" And reaching behind her, she thrust a small boy of about five years old in front of her. Appealing to the stunned onlookers, she sobbed, "What am I to do? How am I to keep his son and myself? What sort of man deserts his very own flesh and blood in such a cruel, uncaring way?"
"That's enough!" Tony snapped, all amusement gone. Leaping down the remaining steps, he took Molly by the arm and shook her slightly. "Keep up that sort of talk and I'm liable to ring your bloody neck—before it comes to that, I want to know why you are doing this? Who put you up to spreading these blatant lies? Tell me, damn you!"
Wrenching her arm free, Molly cried out, "You see how he threatens and abuses me? I ask you, is this the manner of a gentleman... or of a blackguard?"
There was low, angry murmur from the crowd at the top of the steps, and William Crocker, having been hastily informed of the trouble brewing on his veranda by Mr. Haight, hurriedly pushed his way through the throng. Putting his hand on Tony's shoulder, he murmured something into Tony's ear and Tony nodded curtly.
Under his breath, Tony growled, "Come along, Molly, we'll finish this privately."
Molly held her ground. Staring imploringly up at Mr. Crocker, she demanded, "Make him swear first! Make him swear that he will not hurt our son or me. Make him swear!"
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