Collector of Hearts

by Cassandra Samuels

  Arabella curtseyed before Amy’s cousin. Now that this was actually happening, Bella wasn’t so sure she could go through with the ruse. Seeing Robert standing there, looking like he hadn’t slept in a week and yet immaculately handsome at the same time, made her heart ache. She curtseyed in front of Lord Baron. ‘I am, my lord.’

  ‘Miss Fleming, may I have the honour of this dance?’ Justin bowed over her hand and raised a questioning brow when she failed to respond immediately. She smiled as brightly as she could manage, taking his arm and nodding her acceptance.

  When they were settled in the dance and Justin had manoeuvred them away from the group, he sighed. ‘My dear girl, you really must try to at least look like you are enjoying my company.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She lifted her warm brown gaze to his.

  ‘I know this must be hard, but if there is any chance of this working you must trust me.’ He gave her an encouraging smile. ‘I will make sure no harm comes to him.’

  ‘I do trust you, and you’re right, but what if this doesn’t work? What then?’

  ‘Then you’ll have to marry me,’ he joked. ‘But truthfully, I spoke to the man for five minutes.’ He shook his head. ‘And believe me he has fallen. He didn’t look at so much as one woman who passed under his nose. Even I was startled by his devotion to you. He is suffering as much as you by all this.’

  ‘Suffering?’

  He frowned at her stricken expression. ‘Don’t be alarmed. It is not a fatal condition, at least not if we have you well and truly married by the end of the season, which we will,’ he said.

  ‘You sound so confident,’ she muttered.

  ‘That, my charming little poppet, is because I am. Don’t look at him. He will know we are talking about him if you do.’ He directed her in a turn of the dance and then guided her back. ‘I know Shelton, and I agree with Quinn. He is halfway between heaven and hell but he hasn’t the faintest idea which is better. Fear not, he’ll come around nicely. Not before he feels the fires of Lucifer on his backside, but then, Robert likes nothing better than to torture himself for no good reason. He is as dense as a brick wall sometimes.’

  ‘Lord Barton!’ Her lips twitched. ‘I wish I could be so sure. I see him and I think he is building that brick wall higher, just so he can keep me out.’

  Justin lifted his eyebrows. ‘You are about to see a master at work, m’dear. You’ll have your man. I guarantee it.’

  ***

  ‘What in God’s name is Barton doing here?’ Robert demanded.

  Quinn smiled turning towards Robert. ‘Do you mean here in England, or here in this room?’

  ‘Both,’ Robert said replied.

  ‘As I understand, he has been back in London for some weeks, but as to why he is here tonight, I’ve no idea.’

  Robert struggled with the impulse to barge onto the floor and wrench Arabella from Barton’s grasp. ‘He’s after a wife.’ He knew his tone sounded resentful but he couldn’t help it.

  ‘Is he? That is interesting.’ Quinn smiled at him. ‘It would explain his presence here then, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Wants to fill his nursery with Barton brats, would you believe?’ Robert drained his fourth glass of wine.

  Quinn took a sip of his drink. ‘Well, he should be thinking about it. He is an earl, after all, and he is getting on. Looks like he has taken a liking to Bella though, which is nice.’

  ‘Nice? What’s so bloody nice about it?’ Robert growled a little too loudly. Isabelle and Amy looked over at them, frowning.

  ‘Language, Robert. We are in a public place here. Anyway, why are you so upset? As her friend, I would have thought you relieved to have someone take an interest in her. She has been a little... quiet since you left. I must admit it is nice to see her smile again, don’t you agree?’

  Robert could bear no more.

  As he made his way to the other side of the room so he could watch Arabella and Barton dancing, all he could see was red. She was laughing and he was holding her entirely too close. She had only given him the briefest of looks when she had arrived and it had not given him any notion as to how angry she was with him. Part of him screamed to let her go to the devil, but the other half was urging him to make a decision on how he felt and to act on it; he was not willing to negotiate with either half.

  This was absurd. He had spent an hour and a half sifting through the eligible widows. No one grabbed his interest, not one female in the whole damn room made his lips curl into a smile, his eyes widen, or his body react, other than the one woman to whom he had already surrendered. She was beyond his reach now. This was ludicrous, this obsession he had for her, this insane need to want her all to himself. He was such a selfish bastard.

  They passed by him and he was sure he could smell roses and Bella. He closed his eyes for a few seconds to give himself a reprieve from the pain of looking at them. It didn’t help.

  Robert disliked seeing her with Barton. No. He hated the man being anywhere near her. It made his skin itch.

  Would Bella be swayed by Barton’s honeyed words? Probably, blast him! And why wouldn’t she? He was the epitome of a noble hero. He would save her from the big bad wolf known as the Collector of Hearts, and then likely dedicate a poem to her eyes.

  He had to speak to her. Warn her off the man.

  He strode forward, through the crowd of dancers as they left the dance floor, to where Barton was bowing over her hand.

  ‘Miss Arabella, I do hope you haven’t forgotten about me?’ he asked as he came to stand at her elbow.

  She turned, nearly into his arms, and beamed the most brilliant smile. He actually felt his knees go weak until she toned it down and stepped back, once more composed.

  ‘Lord Shelton, how could I possibly forget about you?’ Arabella trembled and cursed herself for her weakness for this man.

  ‘Will you dance with me?’ he asked in a husky whisper.

  Arabella stopped trembling and shivered instead, deliciously so. If only the words had been different, she would have thrown herself into his arms and kissed him forever, scandalmongers be damned.

  ‘Of course, I would be disappointed if you, my friend, had not asked me.’

  He smiled and guided her onto the floor, noticing that her sister, Amy, and Lady Shacklesbury were watching with unswerving eyes.

  ‘Your keepers are doing an admirable job.’ He took her in his arms and pulled her close. She looked up at him in confusion until he tilted his head towards the threesome who were standing at the edge of the crowd.

  ‘They just want to protect me.’ Warmth spread through her from where his hands were touching her, from where his eyes were burning her.

  This was the Robert she knew, the confident, cocksure one, the one who knew his reputation and didn’t dispute it, made no excuses for it. She knew how to handle this side of him well enough.

  ‘Well, I hope they will be using some of their chaperoning skills on Barton. Don’t give me that look, Bella. I know you think him all charm and pretty verses, but believe me, he’s just like any other man. Given a chance, he’ll pounce.’ Robert noted that Barton was on the dance floor too, with Lady Tremaine. ‘And I see he is working very hard tonight. The charm is almost oozing from him. It’s quite disgusting.’

  Arabella frowned. ‘Lord Barton is a gentleman. He would do no such thing and you know it, so stop trying to make me think badly of him. He isn’t you, after all, nor is he trying to be. He has been nothing but kind and courteous, which is something you could do with a dose of. You’re acting like you’re jealous.’ She dared to look up at him. His eyes were deep and clear and full of anger.

  ‘I would have thought you knew me better than that, Bella,’ he replied coolly.

  She pinned him with her gaze and he didn’t flinch. He was trying so hard to keep his control and she knew it was now or never to find out what she needed to know. ‘Why did you leave like that, Robert?’ She asked it softly so no one but he could hear.

  ‘It was tim
e to go.’

  ‘I know what you told me. Now I want the truth. The shawl. Why did you leave it for me? Why did you not even have the courtesy to at least give it to me in person?’

  His urge to fall to his knees and beg her to forgive him nearly overpowered him. He had to look away. The pain in his chest was nearly unbearable.

  Christ, but he was stupid. He should never have done it; not the shawl, not this dance, not the whole damn pursuit. Pursue, conquer, win and leave. It had been his way for so long, but he had monumentally buggered up with Arabella. He’d got too close, he’d let her into his life in a way he had never imagined he would again. He hadn’t wanted to repeat his past mistakes. He’d fallen in love once with disastrous consequences. But he was being pulled in two directions, his treacherous heart and his demented mind both unwilling to give her up. If he let her in, she would destroy him, and in return he could do nothing but destroy her.

  ‘I …’ He paused. ‘The shawl, it was just something that I thought you would look nice in. It had no significant meaning. You know I like you in yellow.’

  ‘I thought you liked me in red?’

  I like you in anything and in nothing at all. ‘No, I’m sure I said I wanted you in my bed.’

  She glared at him. ‘I want some answers, Robert. You owe me that much.’

  ‘Answers are overrated, Bella. You’re always asking things of me too. Tell you this, tell you that. Explain myself. You may as well ask me to cut out my heart and hand it to you on a platter. Would it prove that I have one? Shall I bottle up my soul so that you can see how black it is? It will never be enough, will it?’ he said low and through clenched teeth.

  ‘No, I’m afraid it won’t, but I’ll not beg you for your love, Robert. It has to be given freely and completely. And while we are being so brutally honest here, I think you have conveniently forgotten you were always demanding things of me. Only you got more than what you wanted, didn’t you? I gave you my friendship too, and my heart on a platter. So carve it up, make a pie, it matters not, for you’ve already collected and discarded the one heart you should have kept,’ she hissed. Tears glistening and her lips trembling ever so slightly, she left him, her fingertips lifting off his sleeve slowly. Robert could only stare after her. He’d seen the hurt and despair, the tears in her eyes before she had turned away. Good God, what had he done? Before he could apologise or say something comforting, she had disappeared into the crush.

  He walked off in the opposite direction, thankful the music had stopped and their parting would not be noted, nor the tears in his own eyes.

  This was how it went, how it always went. It was the end of the game, but this time he wasn’t finished playing. But you gave her up, remember? He had, and why? Because. She. Made. Him. Feel.

  He’d spent years making himself numb. Numb to the tears and tantrums of the ladies of the ton, to threats and the possibility of death from the gentlemen of London society. Numb to the beat of his own heart. It hadn’t been a choice then. Was it a choice now?

  Every minute he had spent with Arabella had changed him, twisted him, and disorientated him. He needed a sign, a path, something that would guide him to safety. But what if safety was in her arms, in the beat of her heart?

  Robert nearly staggered under the force of the truth that had just hit him. He loved her. Not only did he love her but he needed her. She might very well be his salvation and he had just left her to the likes of Barton to claim.

  Was it too late to win back her heart?

  ***

  It was hard to move her legs but she had to get off the dance floor and as far away from Robert as she could, before she caused a scene or collapsed. Every other sound in the room dimmed around her until she could hear nothing but the slow thud of her aching heart. The shapes and colours of those around her went out of focus like shadows passing. Her sole aim was to get to the withdrawing room before her heart shattered and the scream at the back of her throat was unleashed.

  She pushed the door open and exhaled loudly. It came out more like a strangled wail but she could not have stopped it even if she’d wanted to. Isabelle rushed in behind her and took Arabella into her embrace.

  Safe.

  Here she could let go of her tears, her anger and her sorrow. There was no better place for her right now but in the arms of her sister. Isabelle held her for a few moments, before she squeezed her shoulders and released her from the embrace. Arabella looked up at her sister to find her crying.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Isabelle said.

  ‘It’s not your fault he is an arse.’ Now she was comforting her sister.

  ‘No, but I should have intervened when I saw that things were getting out of hand. You did a good job of keeping your exchange quiet. If I did not know you so well, I would not have known that something was wrong.’

  She balled her fists. ‘I wanted to slap his arrogant face.’

  Isabelle smiled, just a soft curling of her lips. ‘Part of me wishes you did.’

  ‘The most annoying thing about it all is that I can see that he loves me. He hates that Lord Barton is being so attentive. So I guess the plan worked to some extent, but I fear I have ruined my own chances. If only I could have kept my emotions under control.’ Arabella paced to the other side of the room. She was still angry and needed to release it.

  ‘What did he say to you?’

  A sigh escaped as she dabbed at her cheeks with a kerchief. ‘He was warning me off Barton. I asked about the shawl and why he gave it to me, was it just a parting gift, something he gave to all the other women from his past. Only I know him better. I know he was lying, I could see it in his eyes. It made me so mad.’

  ‘What do you think you will do now?’

  Arabella continued to pace around the withdrawing room. ‘I can’t stop loving him but nor can I keep up this charade. I need to concentrate on you now. You and your wedding, and your happiness.’

  Isabelle shook her head. ‘Arabella—’

  ‘Please, Izzy. You must keep me busy. I will get through it and then when you are wed I will worry about me.’

  Isabelle frowned. ‘You think I can just ignore the fact that you are miserable?’

  A sigh escaped her lips. ‘No. You can, however, keep me busy so I will not think of him.’

  ‘And this will work? I say that after the wedding you confront him and make him decide once and for all. He must put an end to this debacle.’

  ‘But what if he still will not admit he loves me? What do I do then?’

  Isabelle stood and took Arabella’s hands in hers. ‘You find another man. A man worthy of you. A man who will not put you through trials and tantrums and play these silly games. A collector of only one heart. Yours.’

  ‘Why do I feel as if you are talking of Barton?’

  ‘He is a good man. Smart, rich and handsome.’

  Justin was all that was brilliant and charming and she had to admit he looked nothing bookish poet she’d expected.

  His shiny auburn hair was clipped short around his head but still long enough to curl slightly at the ends, which gave him a more roguish appeal. His eyes were a clear, excited hazel in a face that was browned by the sun and showed many years of laughter.

  Unlike Robert’s calm stillness, Justin was possessed of a lively jaunt in his gait as if he could hardly contain the energy in his body. This did not fit her idea of a poet at all. Where was all that repressed and morbid fascination with death and beauty?

  ‘Please. He is just pretending. He has no real interest in me.’

  Isabelle raised a finely arched brow. ‘Doesn’t he?’

  Arabella gave a small laugh, for Isabelle’s insinuation was far too ridiculous. She had known Barton less than a day. ‘No. Now stop it. I just want to go home.’

  ‘I made you laugh, so that is good. Shall I tell Mother we are ready to leave? I think she will be pleased. She is not handling tonight as well as she is putting on. She worries about Father going off to the gaming tables and leaving
her alone all night.’

  ‘I fear you may be right but what can we do about it? It isn’t as though our father has ever taken any notice of what we say.’

  It was Isabelle’s turn to sigh. ‘Or anything Mother says either.’

  ‘At least you know dear Quinn would never ignore your feelings.’

  ‘He is nothing like Father. I don’t think our father cares much for our mother. They didn’t marry for love, after all.’

  ‘But many do not marry for love and seem to have happy marriages. Perhaps love just complicates things.’

  ‘Yes, love can be complicated,’ Isabelle replied.

  Indeed it can be, thought Arabella, and yet calm had suddenly come over her. Let Shelton stew over his actions, let him be jealous of Barton, let him pretend he does not love me. I will pretend too. I will pretend I don’t need him to love me. I will act as though my heart is not breaking. I will do it for Isabelle and Mother. And for the sake of my own heart.

  Just then another young lady entered, saw the two sisters and made a curtsey.

  Arabella and Isabelle returned the curtsey and left the room arm in arm.

  Chapter 18

  It was early morning when the carriage jolted to a stop outside Shelton House. Robert’s butler appeared to be surprised to see his master in such a state and rushed off to rouse some footmen to assist in the matter of getting their employer to bed.

  ‘This is your fault, John.’ Robert could hear Quinn accuse as they negotiated the first icy step.

  John shot back. ‘What? How is it my fault?’

  ‘You suggested the tavern.’

  ‘I only suggested the tavern because you told me to think of somewhere to take him so he wouldn’t kill Barton.’

  ‘Yes well, be that as it may, you could have picked somewhere more suitable.’

  ‘Oh, really? I didn’t see you suggesting any other alternatives. In fact, I distinctly remember you saying, “Good suggestion. Let’s go”.’ John stopped talking then as they manoeuvred through the doorway. He could hear everything they said but was too deep in the drink to care.

  Once inside, Robert looked around him and then at Quinn and John.