Collector of Hearts

by Cassandra Samuels

He sighed then because he knew there was no way he could get out of it. ‘That you were my friend and sister-in-law to my good friend Shacklesbury.’ There, that was a safe answer, wasn’t it?

  She frowned, her arms still crossed. ‘Do you think your mother would believe that?’

  ‘Not for a minute, but what does it matter?’ He laughed and stood up, uncomfortable with the conversation and the way he was feeling.

  ‘Because it does matter. To me.’ Her upturned face was temptation. He wanted to kiss her eyelids, her temple, her neck.

  He shook his head. ‘It shouldn’t, you know. When we are done, you will not want anything to do with me.’

  Arabella shook her head at him. ‘You still think you will win this ridiculous game of yours?’

  ‘Of course.’

  She turned and paced away from him. Turning back, she said, ‘You are delusional. You think I will throw away the only thing of value I have?’

  Ah, it appeared he had touched on a nerve. ‘You are the one who is delusional if you think the rest of you is, indeed, worth nothing.’ He felt hot and angry with himself, because instead of making her feel better about last night he now seemed to be making her more upset. ‘Don’t be mad. It’s a simple truth.’

  ‘Well, you are the only one who thinks so. Without my virginity I am unpalatable as a wife. Not that you seem to care one whit about this fact.’ Arabella walked off then and out of view. He should have gone after her, apologised. She was right, of course. He looked down at the ribbons on the bench. He had conveniently forgotten about her state of innocence. The problem was, what to do about it?

  ***

  Robert was showing off. Parading his horse around and around the carriage, jumping all the hedges and making a fine spectacle of himself as they all headed towards the ruins for the picnic.

  ‘Lord Shelton seems in high spirits today.’

  Arabella pulled her gaze from the window at Amy’s words. If he was in high spirits then she was the opposite. Obviously, he didn’t care that he had upset her this morning.

  ‘He cuts a fine figure on a horse, does he not?’ Amy’s smile was all innocence but Arabella knew it was a trick question. Agree and she admitted her affection. Disagree and, after last night, it would look like she was being untrue.

  ‘I would be surprised if he was not a good horseman. A gentleman places a great deal of pride in his horsemanship.’ There, surely Amy could not misconstrue that answer?

  ‘Of course, but some men are born to the saddle. They have a natural ability, a rhythm with the horse, and a confidence about them. You can see it in the way Shelton’s horse never hesitates at a jump.’

  Arabella looked out the window again. ‘I’m sure you’re right.’ There was confidence in the way Robert looked upon his horse too, the way his thighs hugged the horse’s sides and … this was not helping. She needed to stay focused. To remember she was angry with him.

  Still, she wanted to sigh because he was so very handsome upon his steed. Was she this wanton? Ever since their kiss in the meadow yesterday she had craved more. Oh why did he have to look so dashing? And be so infuriating! Yes, she had been upset by his statements earlier, but what else had she expected? He always reverted to the Collector facade whenever he felt threatened. It was a well-worn mask to hide behind.

  She wanted to push past his impeccable clothes, his airs and graces, his clever converse and see him, and have him see her. She was a fool to fall for his smiles and his attempts at concern. He had never promised her anything other than pleasure in his bed. Part of her wanted to throw caution, and her virginity, to the wind and let him make good on his promise, but the stakes were too high.

  Also she must put into play Isabelle’s cunning plan. Isabelle, their mother and the Shacklesbury two were going to do their best to keep the other men distracted so Arabella could make Robert fall in love with her. Arabella was to entrench herself in his heart while keeping the ultimate prize from his reach. The more she dangled it, the more he would want it, the more he wanted it the more he would be willing to risk to win it, just like Henry the Eighth and Anne Boleyn. The price in this case would be Robert’s heart. She would take nothing less. It was a bold plan and after this morning she was not feeling assured, for she was reminded now that although Anne got to be Queen, she was unable to keep her King or her head.

  It would be so easy to give in but she had to play her part strategically, be patient, be calm, and give nothing away. She was like the last piece on a chessboard. He would have to take all her knights, bishops and pawns before he would be worthy of capturing her.

  While the picnic was being set up, they all went to explore the ruins. There were large columns of stone, some standing, some strategically leaning. There were archways and small tunnels, open-air rooms and steps to an underground pond with a view back towards the Hall. The sounds of laughter bounced off the stone walls as they played a game of hide and seek.

  Arabella turned a corner and landed in Robert’s arms, but he spun her around and then turned, only to emerge from the other side of the wall. He grabbed her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

  ‘Are you still in a sulk, dear Bella?’

  ‘Are you still the Collector of Hearts?’

  He let go of her hand and disappeared, coming up behind her and putting his hands on her waist. ‘It would be easier if you were to accept that I am what I am,’ he whispered, his breath warm in her ear.

  ‘It would be easier but it would not be the truth.’ Arabella stepped away.

  ‘The truth is ugly and shameful.’

  ‘And yet I would rather hear it than pretend you have no feelings for me.’

  He laughed. ‘You ask too much of a man like me. You imagine substance where there is little.’

  She raised a brow. ‘And yet you ask me for more than I can give you outside of marriage. You imagine me as a shallow-minded woman of apparently no substance whatsoever.’

  His face became serious. ‘Arabella, that is not true.’

  ‘Then what do you think of me?’

  Just then she heard Isabelle calling to her and she gave Robert one more glance before stepping through the archway and towards the columns. She had asked the question but her heart had beat at a ridiculous rate, worrying that he might answer her truthfully. And that his truth would be too painful to bear.

  She dared not stay in the ruins any longer and went to join Lady Shacklesbury and her mother on the chairs set under a large marquee.

  ‘Back so soon, Arabella? Did you not care for our folly?’

  ‘It is wonderful, Lady Shacklesbury, but I fear I was getting a blister from these shoes.’ It was a bald-faced lie but Quinn’s mother nodded in acceptance.

  ‘When we get to London in a few days we will get you a new pair of boots,’ her mother announced.

  London in a few days? ‘Why are we returning so soon?’

  ‘We must prepare for Isabelle’s wedding and there is still much to do.’

  ‘Are you feeling up to it?’

  Her mother smiled over at Quinn’s mother. ‘Thanks to Lady Shacklesbury, I am feeling much more the thing.’

  It was good to hear and Arabella would be forever grateful to Quinn’s mother for helping her mother. ‘Will we see Aunt Cat?’

  Her mother patted her shoulder. ‘I expect so. She wrote to me of some estate business her husband needed to deal with and that they would be home for the wedding.’

  ‘It will be good to see her. I know you have been missing her terribly.’

  ‘She is my baby sister,’ her mother explained to Lady Shacklesbury. ‘After Mama passed, I practically brought her up. Until I was married, that is.’ Her mother’s features took on a wistful expression. ‘I should have fought harder to keep her with me but my father had plans for her and he wanted to see her married early and married well. Of course, she did. Her husband is an earl and quite influential in parliament.’

  ‘I look forward to meeting her at the wedding,’ Lady Shack
lesbury said.

  The others began to return then and the food came out. Roasted pheasant, pork pies, salads, and puddings. Isabelle came to sit beside her after the meal was finished and the men had gone for a walk down to the river to see if the trout were swimming.

  ‘How did things go in the maze?’ Isabelle’s voice was just above a whisper. Although the other women knew of the plan, they did not know she had met Shelton in the maze this morning.

  ‘Not well. We argued. I expected too much, too soon. I had thought he might turn over like a card, revealing his true hand, but of course the only card he was holding was the joker. I think he wants to tell me things but he worries he will lose his advantage if he reveals too much.’

  ‘Then perhaps you should keep your hand to yourself a little longer until you can steal his trick. Oh, this is fun, talking in riddles.’

  Arabella was talking in riddles because to reveal the whole truth about what she was feeling would have her in tears. Isabelle was right though. She did need to just bide her time a little longer, press him gently to reveal his hand. Could she outplay him at his own game?

  Chapter 16

  Then what do you think of me? The question had been plaguing Robert all day. And now, as he sat in the library pretending to read the paper, he mulled over the topic in his mind. It was late in the evening and Snowden was snoring softly on the sofa with a brandy snifter dangling from his fingertips. Quinn had left for bed an hour ago.

  Robert couldn’t quite manage the effort required to go to his own room. It was a mystery why he thought his mind would be better placed here to reflect on Arabella’s question. One reason may be because there was no bed. It was distracting to think of her in a room where he could only think of her naked while he kissed every inch of her sweet body.

  Even here she plagued his thoughts. He threw down the paper and stalked to the fireplace. If there was anything he knew for sure in this whole mess it was, he liked Arabella, admired her, and wanted her. Her question, however, went deeper than that, didn’t it? What she really meant was how do you feel about me?

  He’d stopped analysing issues of the heart a long time ago. It only brought pain. Now, it was Arabella who seemed in pain. It was abhorrent to him to know he was the cause. Try as he might to keep focused on the game; somewhere deep inside him he knew he was defeated. Part of him wanted to be claimed. Part of him wanted to fight against the inevitable and keep the Collector of Hearts alive. This facade he wore was a safe place. A place of high ground. No one could hurt him while he played this part.

  Kicking at a log in the grate, he decided if he could just get through Shacklesbury’s wedding, he would be able to put Arabella aside. Then he would be able to extract her from his heart, push her out of his thoughts, and continue his life as before. He exhaled a deep shuddering breath. Was this what he really wanted?

  He feared he already knew the answer.

  ***

  ‘Oh, Mama. Cousin Justin writes he will be in London.’ Amy passed the letter across to her mother.

  The men had left the ladies to a late breakfast while they rode into town earlier. Arabella was thankful to be able to eat her eggs without the distraction of a certain tall, dark and arrogant man watching her every move.

  ‘How wonderful,’ Lady Shacklesbury replied. ‘Your brother will be thrilled Barton will be able to attend the wedding.’ Lady Shacklesbury passed the letter back and turned to the rest of the table. ‘Lord Barton is my late brother’s son. He is a poet, you know.’

  Isabelle clapped her hands in joy. ‘I’ve read some of his verses. They are simply beautiful. It will be lovely to meet him. Perhaps he will sign my copy of his books for me.’

  ‘I’m sure he will, my dear,’ Lady Shacklesbury assured her.

  Arabella smiled dutifully over her teacup but her thoughts were too occupied by Robert to take in the whole conversation and their voices soon faded into the background. Robert had stayed politely at the other end of the room all the night before. Even from that distance she could feel the heat of his gaze. Her question must surely have hit him hard. He had not sought her out, attempted to distract her with some witty quip, or tried to cajole her. What was she to think of his behaviour?

  Amy clasped a palm over her mouth and gasped. When she was assured she had the attention of all the ladies present, she said, ‘I just had a brilliant idea. What if Barton was to help us with Shelton?’

  Lady Shacklesbury blinked in confusion. ‘How is Barton going to help us with Shelton? They barely tolerate each other.’

  ‘Exactly, Mama. Barton can show interest in our dear Arabella and Shelton will go green with jealousy. If the thought of losing her to Barton isn’t enough to push him to propose I don’t know what is.’ Any turned towards Arabella. ‘He’s terribly handsome and charming.’

  Lady Shacklebury’s eyes grew wide with excitement. ‘Oh, that is just wicked enough to work.’

  Amy was fairly bouncing on her seat. ‘I will write to him and let him in on the plan. I am sure he would be nothing but pleased to help in bringing the infamous Collector of Hearts down on one knee.’

  ‘Ah, should we not consult Arabella first?’ Isabelle asked.

  ‘Of course.’ They all looked Arabella’s way then.

  Arabella shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. I do not like the idea of playing one off against another.’

  ‘Oh, it will not be like that. Barton only need say he is interested in you to get Shelton’s measure. I am sure he needs only a little nudge in the right direction.’

  Arabella turned to her mother, who had remained quiet throughout the exchange. ‘What do you think, Mother?’

  ‘I think if Lord Barton is willing, then there can be no harm in pushing Shelton where he already wants to be.’

  ‘But what if he doesn’t want to be pushed?’

  Lady Shacklesbury smiled from across the table. ‘Oh, my dear. Every man needs to be pushed every now and then, especially a man like Shelton.’

  ‘If you think so...’ Arabella could only hope Lord Barton would be aware of what he was getting himself into. Indeed, she hoped he may have some idea of the consequences he may find himself in. She would not be responsible for a duel over her.

  Just then the men arrived. Snowden raised a brow at the assembled group and kissed his wife on the cheek and Quinn presented Isabelle with a small wildflower and some colourful feathers they had found on their way back from the village. Isabelle blushed in delight.

  Robert was the last to enter. Immaculate, as usual, in buff pantaloons, a cream waistcoat of wasted silk and a brown superfine frock coat, his boots showed no sign of outside activity, nor did his hair, which fell in a soft wave across his forehead. Arabella’s fingers itched to comb through the dark strands. She wanted to touch him everywhere, wanted to feel the heat of his skin, inhale his scent and rise on her toes and kiss him.

  He did not look at her but strolled over to the window to take up a stance of relaxed boredom. Arabella could not keep her eyes off him. Isabelle tugged on her hand and she looked away and picked up her teacup again.

  ‘How was your ride to the village, Shelton?’ Amy asked.

  ‘It was tolerable.’

  ‘Tolerable? Were your companions so dull?’

  ‘I fear I was the dull one, Lady Snowden.’

  ‘He was unbearable company. He did not care for any of our topics of conversation,’ Snowden joked. ‘One would think he was not interested in the possibility of a canal and the rebuilding of Rickman’s bridge.’

  ‘I am sure both will be a great improvement to the estate.’

  Quinn laughed. ‘You see? He shows no enthusiasm.’

  Lady Shacklesbury waved her kerchief around. ‘Oh, do leave him be. He is obviously feeling ill. Are you well, Shelton?’

  Robert turned and gave a smile. ‘Just a headache, ma’am. I am sure it will pass when the topic of canals and bridges cease.’

  His gaze met Arabella’s then and her heart fairly leapt out of he
r chest and a trembling took over her body. Her hand came to her throat and she worried a blush would give away just how he affected her. She had an overwhelming need to run to him and bury her face in his chest, wrap her arms around his waist and ask him to take her away... anywhere. For this was torment of the worst kind. The tea she had consumed seemed to be churning in her stomach.

  This was ridiculous. Perhaps Lord Barton was what they both needed.

  ***

  She did not see Robert again until dinner. He laughed and joked with the men, and even her father appeared to have stopped scowling at him. This dynamic change from this morning made Arabella think what she had felt and seen then must surely have all been in her imagination. Or this scene was being conjured up by her desperate mind for some semblance of peace. Perhaps this morning he’d simply had a headache. He’d said he had been having trouble sleeping and she had been arrogant enough to think she may have been the reason.

  What if he did not feel the way the others had indicated? What if it was just another tactic of the Collector of Hearts to make her run to him? To force her to make the next move? He certainly had not made any effort to talk to her, not even in the form of a note.

  After dinner, Arabella played a few hands of whist with her sister, Quinn and Amy. The conversation was light and just what she needed to keep her mind off the man behind her. After a while, she excused herself and made the way up to her room without seeking out his gaze one more time.

  Walking past the billiard room, as she did every night before ascending the stairs, she heard the sound of billiard balls bouncing against each other. Like an ocean wave rushing to the shore she found herself drawn into the room. She stared at Robert as he sent a red ball across the table in a repeated pattern. He must have left before her and she hadn’t noticed.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

  The sound of his voice made her jump. How long had she been standing there? She collected herself enough to take another step towards him. ‘I need to know.’

  He turned his head and looked at her but his eyes told her nothing about what he was thinking. ‘Know what?’