She knew what she was—his mistress, a woman he had bought from a brothel.
And she knew what he was—a man who had betrayed her and ruined her life.
And she knew, too, that contrary to everything that she should feel she still cared for him.
Arabella did not want to think what that said about her. Or what it implied about Dominic.
Dominic watched Hunter as the other man pulled up the tails of his coat and stood with his back before the warm flame of the fire. There was only the slow steady tick of the clock on the mantelpiece and the soft sounds of the flames upon the coals.
‘I am sure I saw Arabella Tatton coming out of an apothecary shop in Bond Street the other day.’ Hunter’s voice was steady and he was watching Dominic.
‘Did you?’ Dominic’s heart picked up some speed but he feigned indifference.
‘She was carrying her gloves…and she was not wearing a wedding ring.’
‘Really?’ Dominic pretended to examine his nails.
‘And she asked her coachman to take her home to Curzon Street.’ Hunter shifted his stance and Dominic could smell hot wool.
Silence.
‘It all begins to make sense. Why you are so very protective of Miss Noir’s identity. Why you have been so intent on keeping her hidden from view. Not one party. Not one ball, save Prinny’s masked carnival at Vauxhall, so I hear. Hardly your normal treatment of a woman…unless there is something of her identity that you wish to conceal.’
Still Dominic said nothing, but he felt his body tense as if in preparation for a fight. He thought of the tenderness of their lovemaking. And he wanted to protect her, even from Hunter.
‘It is her, is it not?’
‘You are mistaken, Hunter,’ he said and the look in his eyes bellowed the warning that his words only whispered at.
‘Hell’s teeth, Dominic! I am not a fool. I know that Arabella is Miss Noir.’
Dominic did not remember moving, but the next he knew he was two inches in front of Hunter’s face, staring down at him as if he would like to rip him limb from limb.
Hunter shook his head and met his gaze. ‘Do you honestly think I would breathe one word of this outside of this room? Your secret is safe with me.’
Dominic knew that it was, but it did not make him feel any better.
‘I think I am in need of a drink,’ said Hunter weakly and ducked under Dominic’s arm to stroll across the library and pour them both a large brandy. He passed one glass to Dominic and took several swigs from the other himself. ‘I hope you know what you are doing.’
Dominic took a sip of brandy. ‘Everything is under control.’
‘Is it?’ asked Hunter and the look on his face said that he did not believe it. ‘Have you forgotten what she did to you?’
‘I have not forgotten.’ Nothing of the pain.
‘Then this is some kind of revenge?’
Dominic set his glass down upon the mantelpiece with a thud that threatened to fracture the crystal stem. ‘Hell, Sebastian, what kind of man do you take me for? I found her in Mrs Silver’s that night! What did you expect me to do? Walk away and leave her there?’ he shouted.
‘After breaking your betrothal to run off and marry some other man? Yes. That is exactly what I would have done.’ Hunter shook his head again. ‘I thought you were over her. I thought you had learned your lesson from her. Lord, but she made a damn fool of you!’ Hunter peered closer at Dominic’s face. ‘But you still want her,’ he said slowly as if the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place to reveal the answer.
‘Yes, I want her,’ admitted Dominic. ‘I have never stopped wanting her. Any sane man would. I do not have to like her to bed her.’
Hunter was still looking at him. ‘Were that true you would not give a damn who knew she is your mistress. The shame would be on her, Dominic, not on you. No, there is more to it than that.’ His eyes narrowed with speculation.
‘Leave it alone, Sebastian,’ Dominic warned.
But Hunter never could take a warning. ‘You still care for her,’ he said quietly.
The glass within Dominic’s hand shattered, sending the splinters of glass flying across the mantelpiece and spilling the brandy to pool with the blood, but Dominic felt nothing of the pain.
Hunter pulled a clean white handkerchief from his pocket and appeared by his side. First he checked there were no glass fragments in Dominic’s hand, then used the handkerchief as a bandage to staunch the bleeding. He eyed Dominic with concern. ‘This is worse than I thought,’ he said, and Dominic knew Hunter was not referring to the cut upon his hand. ‘You do not want me to, but I will say it anyway. You are making a mistake with her, Dominic.’
‘Be that as it may, I will not give her up,’ said Dominic; he knew he sounded stubborn and bad tempered and that he should relax and pretend that she did not matter to him in the slightest.
‘I did not think that you would,’ replied Hunter quietly. ‘You do care for her, Dominic.’
‘I care only that she warms my bed,’ said Dominic and knew that he was not fooling Hunter for a minute, yet his pride would not let him admit the truth. He did not think he even understood himself what the truth was any more.
He tensed against any more of Hunter’s questions, but his friend let the matter drop, clapping a hand of support against Dominic’s shoulder. ‘I think you are in need of another brandy.’
‘It is just an arrangement for sex,’ he insisted. Except Dominic knew that he was lying. Even Hunter knew he was lying. There were other aspects to what was between Arabella and him that he did not wish to think about. Depths he had not yet come to terms with. ‘I know what I am doing, Sebastian.’
‘I hope so, Dominic.’ But Hunter did not look convinced.
A fortnight had passed when Arabella awoke with the sunlight streaming in through a crack in the curtains. The bed was still warm from Dominic’s presence although he had left before dawn, as he did every morning. Whatever else Dominic was, at least he was discreet.
From the chamber above she heard the scurry of little footsteps. Archie. She smiled as she pulled on her dressing gown and went to find her son and her mother.
‘You two slugabeds had best get yourselves up and readied, for today we are going out.’
‘Is that such a good idea?’ Mrs Tatton glanced round at her in surprise.
‘I have heard tell of a wonderful new apothecary in Oxford Street who can mix the best of liniments for the joints. Besides, we have not been out of the house since our outing to the park and such confinement is not good for Archie, or for you. The weather is fine and an outing will do us all good.’
‘What if we are seen by your gentleman while we are out?’ said Mrs Tatton.
‘We will be very careful. And he hates shopping.’ She doubted Dominic had changed in that respect. ‘I cannot think that we would meet him in the apothecary.’
‘But after that last time, when he almost caught us… My stomach has been sick with nerves.’
‘We will make sure we return here in plenty of time.’ Arabella placed a reassuring hand on her mother’s shoulder. ‘Please come, Mama. I think it would do you good. And I promise you, nothing will go wrong.’ Arabella felt a shiver of foreboding as soon as the words had left her mouth. She turned to her son, and lifted him on to her knee. ‘What say you, Archie? I thought we might visit Gunter’s for some ices before the apothecary.’
‘Oh, can we, Mama?’ His eyes shone with excitement.
She kissed Archie’s cheek and then her mother’s. ‘Chop chop, then,’ she said with a smile.
There really was very little chance of something going wrong, she told herself again and again, but that stubborn feeling of unease sat right there in her stomach and refused to shift.
She would only later learn that the feeling was called instinct and that she should have listened to it.
Chapter Ten
‘I am so glad that you persuaded me to come. It is a lovely day and Archie is hav
ing such a fine time.’ Her mother smiled as she and Arabella strolled along arm in arm, with Archie running before them breathless with excitement.
‘Ooh, do look at that display, Arabella!’ Mrs Tatton pulled Arabella over to admire the array of perfume bottles in the shop window. ‘All the way from Paris and with matching scented soaps. How lovely.’
‘This is the place of which I was speaking to you of—the apothecary who is highly recommended. Gemmell was telling me that he bought some liniment for the stiffness in his joints and it has worked wonders for him. And Cook swore that a tonic brought her sister back to health when she was dreadfully weakened following a fever. I was thinking we could buy some remedy for you, Mama.’
‘If you think it would help.’
‘There will be no hurt in trying.’ Arabella raised her eyebrows. ‘And perhaps we might treat ourselves to some of that fine French soap while we are on the premises.’
Mrs Tatton laughed. And when Archie copied her, even though he did not understand what his grandmother was laughing about, Arabella could not help but join in.
The bell rang as they entered through the door, making the women who were standing in the middle of the shop floor beside a display of glass bottles glance round and notice Arabella and her family. The bottles which the women were inspecting were the same expensive Parisian perfumes as displayed in the shop’s window. On seeing that Arabella was no one that they knew, the ladies ignored her and went back to choosing their perfume. Arabella watched them taking great pains over sniffing the scents that the shop assistant had touched to their hands using a variety of thin glass wands.
Two of the women were older; Arabella would guess of an age similar to her own mother’s. But they were as haughty as Mrs Tatton was not. One look at their faces and Arabella could not help but draw a less-than-flattering conclusion as to their characters. The third woman was much younger, barely more than a girl. In contrast to the older women, one of whom Arabella was sure was the girl’s mother due to a faint family resemblance, the girl seemed very quiet and eager to please.
‘What do you mean, you like the sandalwood, Marianne?’ demanded one of the formidable matrons. ‘It is quite unsuitable for a young lady. Whatever would Sarah say were she to receive that as her birthday gift?’ The matron looked quickly to her companion. ‘Forgive Marianne, Lady Fothergill, she can be such a silly goose at times. I am quite certain that she will admit that the rose fragrance is quite the most appropriate scent for her friend, albeit one of the most expensive choices.’
Arabella felt a pang of compassion for the girl. Life with a mother like that could not be easy, she thought as she turned her attention back to the apothecary who had arrived at the counter to serve them.
In the background she could hear the drone of the women’s conversation, but Arabella was not listening. Rather she was concentrating on showing the apothecary her mother’s hands and explaining about her mother’s lungs. He suggested a warming liniment for Mrs Tatton’s joints and a restorative tonic for her lungs, and disappeared off into the back of the shop to prepare them.
Mrs Tatton fitted her gloves back on while they waited and Arabella looked down at Archie. He was crouched by her side making his little wooden horse, Charlie, gallop around his feet and clicking quiet horsy noises to himself. Arabella smiled at the look of absorption upon his face. It was then that she heard the name ‘Arlesford’ spoken as clear as a bell. She tensed and could not help but listen in to the women’s conversation.
‘Close your ears, Lady Marianne, this is not talk for you,’ one of the women was saying.
‘Yes, Lady Fothergill,’ said the girl, and Arabella resisted the urge to turn around and see if Lady Marianne had actually put her hands over her own ears. Then in lower quieter tones as if it were the greatest secret, Lady Fothergill continued, ‘I am afraid I have to tell you the latest word, my poor dear, but they say that he has a mistress, and not just any mistress, one he bought from a bordello. Can you imagine?’
Arabella felt her blood run cold. She tried to keep her face clear and unaffected. The apothecary returned carrying a dark blue bottle and a small brown jar and placed them both down upon the counter.
‘Might we also view your perfumed soaps, the ones that you have displayed in the front window?’ she managed, and the smile fixed upon her face was broad and false.
‘This is such a treat, Arabella,’ said her mother.
‘Yes.’ Arabella nodded, still smiling, but almost the whole of her attention was focused on the conversation taking place behind her.
The other woman’s voice stiffened with a defensive tone. ‘Lady Fothergill, gentlemen will have their little foibles, but Arlesford is a duke and he knows his duty. I am sure that he will make a good husband.’
Arabella saw her mother’s ears prick up at the mention again of Dominic’s name and her stomach clenched all the tighter. She felt Mrs Tatton nudge her arm in a not altogether subtle way, and then her mother gestured with her eyes in the direction of the women behind them.
Arabella gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement to show that she understood the message.
‘So is he still interested in Lady Marianne, Lady Misbourne?’
Arabella felt her blood run cold. Misbourne? An image of the masked bearded man from Vauxhall garden flashed in her mind, and she remembered the anger that had simmered within Dominic at their meeting, and his glib reply when she had asked who Misbourne was. No wonder he was so put out; meeting one’s prospective father-in-law with your mistress on your arm was hardly the done thing.
The apothecary returned with the soaps, but Arabella and her mother were still listening intently. Arabella heard Mrs Tatton ask him to unwrap each soap that they might compare the smells, but Arabella could not move. She was frozen, holding her breath while she strained to hear Lady Misbourne’s answer.
‘Let us just say,’ said Lady Misbourne, her voice less friendly than it had been at the start of her conversation with Lady Fothergill, ‘that we are expecting an offer in the not-too-distant future. But that little piece of news is for your ears only, Lady Fothergill,’
‘Of course,’ said Lady Fothergill and there was something in the silky way that she said it that Arabella knew Lady Misbourne’s news concerning Dominic and her daughter would be all around London by tomorrow. ‘I think I shall choose the jasmine, Lady Misbourne. It is so exotic and so very expensive.’
The apothecary was clearing his throat and she felt her mother give her arm a little shake.
‘Arabella, you are wool-gathering.’ Mrs Tatton gave a false little laugh and slipped a hand to cover the white shining knuckles of Arabella’s hands where she was gripping so tightly to the counter. ‘I have come over a little unwell, my dear. Would you mind terribly if we were to come back for the soaps another day?’
Bless you, Mama. Bless your kindness, when her mother did not even know the full extent of the shock.
‘Not at all,’ Arabella said and then searched in her reticule for her purse to pay the apothecary. Her hands were trembling slightly in her haste to be gone and she set the money quickly down upon the counter, hoping that the apothecary would not notice. With the jar and bottle wrapped up in paper and tied with a handle of string, she took hold of Archie’s hand and followed her mother out of the shop.
‘Arabella, do not even think about that man. He is not worthy of it. From what I saw in there Dominic Furneaux is moving in all the right circles and most deservedly so I say. I wish him unhappy,’ Mrs Tatton said, pure venom in her voice. She tucked Arabella’s free hand into the crook of her arm. ‘Now, we will not let their words bother us.’
‘Indeed we will not,’ said Arabella resolutely but she felt numb and chilled to the marrow and her mind was still reeling from what she had heard. Dominic was to marry. It should not have been such a very great shock. He was a duke. It was his duty to beget an heir, but she felt sick at the thought. Sick to the pit of her stomach at the memories those words stirred.
&
nbsp; Her mother hurried her along the street and she just wanted to get away from this place and those women.
She heard the shop door-bell ring behind them.
‘Excuse me, ma’am.’ The girl’s voice was tentative and as gentle and unassuming as her mother’s was harsh and arrogant. Arabella did not need to turn round to know that it was Lady Marianne who had come out behind them. Lady Misbourne’s daughter. The girl that Dominic was to marry.
Arabella did not want to look round. She wanted to keep on walking, to run away from this nightmare. But her mother had already stopped and turned.
Arabella had no choice.
‘Your little boy, he left this behind.’ There in the girl’s outstretched pink gloved hand was little wooden Charlie.
Lady Marianne was short and slender. A few fair curls that had escaped her pins peeped from the straw of her bonnet. She was dressed in an expensive pink walking dress and pelisse overloaded with lace and ribbon, chosen by Lady Misbourne Arabella guessed. But the outfit did little to detract from the girl’s beauty; her sweet face was stunning. Her skin had the smooth creamy opalescence of youth, her features were fine and neat, and her eyes were large and a deep dark brown.
‘Thank you,’ Arabella said with a smile that would not touch her eyes no matter how hard she tried to make it, and she took the little wooden horse from the girl’s hand.
‘Thank very much, miss,’ said Archie politely so that even given the strain of the situation, she was proud of him and his manners.
Lady Misbourne’s daughter smiled at Archie. ‘You are very welcome,’ she said to him kindly. ‘He looks as if he is a very special horse.’
‘Oh, he is,’ said Archie. ‘Gemmell made him for my birthday, and my mama took me to the park and let me and Charlie ride upon a real horse.’
‘That is quite enough, Archie. I am sure that the lady is too busy for your stories.’
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