Lady Landerbelt’s silence made Arabella’s tension rise almost immediately, her heart racing frantically as she saw the astonishment in the lady’s eyes. Was she about to berate her for not coming after her husband sooner?
“That is astonishing,” Lady Landerbelt said, after a minute or two of stunned silence. “And it is almost too much to be believed. I cannot understand it! A gentleman is required to keep his estate in order, is he not?”
“His steward remained at the estate,” Arabella replied quickly. “Almost everything has been done as my husband has directed. It is as though he is present without being there in body.”
Lady Landerbelt shook her head in apparent amazement. “And the staff will alert him to your absence, yes?”
Arabella hesitated. “I do not know. If they do so, my husband will think that I am gone to visit my father and not come to town, as is the truth.
“I see,” Lady Landerbelt replied, with a slight gleam in her eye. “You wished for your presence in London to come as something of a shock to him, did you not?”
“I did,” Arabella admitted, not wanting to hide the truth from the lady. “After three years of being alone, I did not want to inform him that I was coming to town for fear that he would disappear to Bath or some such place. I must find a way to confront him over his recent behavior.”
A smile grew steadily across Lady Landerbelt’s face as she continued to listen to Arabella. “Very good,” she replied, as Cecelia reached across to squeeze Arabella’s hand lightly. “Then I must inform you that Lord Fitzpatrick is a guest here this evening. Not that he has arrived yet, for he is always late, but he will make an appearance, I am quite certain.”
The room began to spin almost the very moment that Arabella took in this news, her hand tightening on her sister’s.
“Not that it is anything to concern yourself about,” Lady Landerbelt continued airily, as Arabella forced herself to drag in air in an attempt to steady herself. “For I do not think that you shall have to confront him this evening.” She glanced towards Arabella, a small look of concern in her expression. “Goodness, Lady Fitzpatrick, are you quite all right? Here, you must have something.” She snapped her fingers in the direction of a footman, who brought over a tray of champagne to them all. Lady Landerbelt took two glasses and handed one to Cecelia before forcing the other into Arabella’s hand.
“Drink,” she commanded, as she lifted a third glass from the tray for herself. “You must not give in to fear now, Lady Fitzpatrick. There is no need to become overwrought.”
Arabella took in a long sip of champagne but found that it had very little effect. Her husband would be here this evening, which meant that their first meeting would have to take place within a few hours. She was not prepared for this, she knew, for both her heart and mind were racing frantically with all manner of thoughts.
“You need not become worried about what you shall say or what you shall do,” Lady Fitzpatrick continued in a much gentler tone of voice. “You have nothing to concern yourself with, Lady Fitzpatrick, for tonight you shall not be Lady Fitzpatrick—but instead you shall be Lady…Stanley.”
Arabella blinked rapidly, her heart quickening its pace all over again. “I do not understand what you mean.”
“I mean that you must become Lady Stanley this evening, Lady Fitzpatrick,” Lady Landerbelt replied, as though Arabella had not been listening the first time. “You shall be Lady Stanley, a dear friend of Lady Ward and someone who has only returned to the Season after the death of her husband some two years ago.” She waved a hand, her eyes bright with ideas and thoughts. “You have found solidarity and understanding with Lady Ward and so you are taking on London society together, as dear, dear friends.” She shot a quick glance towards Cecelia. “I do not think that Lord Fitzpatrick will recognize you, Lady Ward, nor remember your connection to Lady Fitzpatrick. From what I recall about the wedding, it was a rather…drunken affair.”
Cecelia nodded fervently. “Indeed, it was,” she agreed, letting go of Arabella’s hand. “And no, I doubt that the gentleman will even have a flicker of recognition in his eyes when he sees me.”
Lady Landerbelt looked delighted. “That is wonderful,” she stated, turning back to Arabella who felt herself become entirely overwhelmed by all that was suddenly expected of her. “Now, Lady Fitzpatrick. Your intention this evening is to learn whether or not your husband recognizes you for who you truly are. If he does not, then there is more than we can do to ensure that he comes to realize that his treatment of you is has been utterly despicable – to the point that he will ensure that he does nothing but adore you for the rest of his days.”
“I hardly think that Lord Fitzpatrick shall ever see me as anything more than the bride whom he was forced to wed,” Arabella replied, not finding any hope in such an idea. “My father arranged it with his mother. Even though he had already gained the title, he appeared to have very little choice but to go through with our marriage. I do not think that he wanted to do so, and I hardly think that he will now regret his behavior towards me thereafter.”
Lady Landerbelt’s smile had not faded. “Have a little faith, Lady Fitzpatrick,” she replied with a lightness to her voice that brought a touch of relief to Arabella’s frantic heart. “He may very well be brought to such an understanding, one way or the other. I shall make sure of it.”
Remembering what her sister had said about Lady Landerbelt being able to help others in particular situations before, Arabella found herself nodding even before she was quite certain that this was, in fact, what she wanted to do.
“Excellent!” Lady Landerbelt declared, sounding a good deal happier than Arabella felt. “Now, you must call upon me tomorrow afternoon to inform me about how your first meeting with your husband went. I cannot be seen to be taking too much of an interest in it, you understand, for fear that he will think there is something more to you, Lady Fitzpatrick…I mean, Lady Stanley.” Her eyes twinkled, and despite her cloying fear and tumultuous anxiety coursing through her, Arabella managed a small smile back.
“Until tomorrow then,” Lady Landerbelt finished, handing her now empty champagne glass back to the footman and giving Arabella and then Cecelia a small nod. “I look forward to hearing all about it, Lady Stanley.”
Arabella watched Lady Landerbelt walk away, her hand pressed lightly against her stomach in an attempt to calm her fractious nerves. “I am not at all certain about this, Cecelia.”
Her sister laughed softly and shook her head. “Lady Landerbelt is quite extraordinary,” she agreed, “but I believe her ideas are good. She wants to do what is best for you, Arabella, even though it may not make complete sense at this very moment.” She chuckled as Arabella swallowed, hard. “I suppose I should become used to introducing you as ‘Lady Stanley.’”
“Widowed,” Arabella murmured, remembering the story that Lady Landerbelt had told her. “And residing with you for a time.”
“Indeed,” her sister replied with another gentle laugh. “It is just as well that we do not look particularly alike, else no one would believe that we were merely friends.”
Arabella sighed, a rueful smile touching her lips. “And it is a blessing that I was not in society for very long,” she agreed. “I doubt anyone will remember me, other than as that bride that practically ran from the church and left her husband behind her.”
Her sister patted her arm. “I doubt anyone of note will recall your face,” she encouraged. “Lady Landerbelt did not, and she was present at the wedding, I believe.”
“Indeed?” Arabella was surprised, having not known that the lady had been invited. “Then I must hope that my husband has no recollection of my face either.”
“We shall soon find out.” Cecelia’s voice had dropped, her tone becoming almost secretive. “For look, I think he has finally arrived.”
Arabella was immediately seized by a great and terrible trembling that racked her entire frame. She was not as strong nor as courageous as she had believe
d, she realized, almost too afraid to look in the direction of Lord Fitzpatrick.
Finally, however, she allowed her eyes to rest upon him. He was still as tall and as fair-haired as she recalled, with that easy smile that did not quite light up his eyes. A small frown caught her brows as she realized he was already finishing one glass of champagne and was now reaching for another. Had his penchant for liquor not yet left him? Was he still something of a fool, lost in drunkenness and stupidity? Her frown deepening, Arabella looked away, feeling her heart slowly begin to resume a normal rhythm. She had nothing to fear from her husband, she realized, her mind caught with the realization that he had not changed in any way these last three years. If he were to recognize her, then she would simply berate him for his lack of attention and presence these last three years – and she would do it publicly also, without being afraid of what the beau monde might think. She had embarrassed herself already on the day of her wedding and would not care about doing so again, especially if it meant that she would be able to return to her husband’s estate thereafter.
And if he does not recognize you?
Arabella sucked in a breath, surprised that she felt such disappointment at the idea. If he did not recognize her, as Lady Landerbelt was convinced, then she would have to continue on as Lady Stanley. She would not want to further her acquaintance with him, of course, and would behave in a very cool and distant fashion so that he would not become caught up with her. She had very little doubt that her husband was something of a rogue, for a gentleman with both fortune and title could easily have a good many members of the beau monde at his feet should he wish it, married or not.
“He is looking at you,” Cecelia whispered, catching Arabella’s attention. “Oh, gracious, he is coming towards us both, Arabella.”
A gasp caught in Arabella’s throat as she turned her gaze back to see Lord Fitzpatrick coming towards them, his eyes flickering from one to the other. He did not hesitate in his steps, his intentions clear.
“Ah, good evening Lady Ward.”
Arabella forced herself to look in the direction of the gentleman who had appeared next to Lord Fitzpatrick, the one who was now addressing her sister. He was not overly tall and appeared rather stocky, with a strong, square jaw, grey eyes with dark hair neatly combed.
This was obviously someone her sister was acquainted with.
“Good evening, Lord Thompson,” she heard Cecelia reply, aware of the way that her heart was pounding furiously in her ears as she waited for the inevitable introductions. “Might I introduce my dear friend, Lady Stanley?”
Arabella lifted her chin and graced her expression with a light smile as Lord Thompson looked in her direction
“Lady Stanley, this is Lord Thompson, who was acquainted with my late husband,” Cecelia finished with a reassuring smile in Arabella’s direction.
“It is very good to make your acquaintance,” she replied, finishing her words with a beautiful curtsy. “I am only just come to town and am currently residing with Lady Ward.”
Lord Thompson nodded, looking quite pleased with himself as though he had completed some task that had been set out before him. “May I welcome you to London, Lady Stanley. And may I also present Viscount Fitzpatrick?”
Arabella felt her face grow hot as she dipped into another curtsy, allowing her eyes to drift to the ground as she did so, in order that she would not have to look in her husband’s direction.
“It is very good to meet you both,” she heard him say, as she rose. “Capital to make a few more acquaintances.”
Arabella’s throat began to ache as she looked up at her husband, seeing the lack of recognition in his face. He did not know her. He did not recognize her. There was nothing in his eyes that told her there was any chance that he even wondered whether or not they had met before. To him, she was nothing but a stranger.
“You are residing in London for the Season, I hope?” Lord Fitzpatrick continued jovially. “And are your husbands—?”
“We are both widows, Lord Fitzpatrick,” Cecelia interrupted quickly, obviously aware that the gentleman had not recognized Arabella and doing her level best to ensure that Arabella had a few minutes with which to gather her composure. “I myself am only just out of my mourning period and hoped to find a little joy within London after what has been a very trying few months.”
Arabella saw the smile fade from Lord Fitzpatrick’s face almost at once. “I am truly sorry,” he replied, with an inclination of his head. “And I do hope that you find such enjoyment within London society, Lady Ward.” He smiled at them both again, only for someone to call his name from the other side of the room. “You must excuse me,” he finished, bowing again. “I fear that my slightly uncouth acquaintance is calling my name, and in order to silence him and prevent any further misdemeanors, I should go to him at once.”
“But of course,” Arabella replied, dropping into a curtsy once more. “I quite understand. Good evening, Lord Fitzpatrick, Lord Thompson.”
Cecelia bid them both good evening also, and within a few moments, both gentlemen had left their side and were making their way across the room.
Arabella wanted to sag against a wall, such was the relief that coursed through her. She had managed to endure their first meeting with the grace and refinement that was expected of her, but she certainly had never thought she would feel so hurt, so broken, by his lack of awareness.
“You did very well,” her sister cooed gently, reaching to press Arabella’s arm. “But I fear Lady Landerbelt is quite correct. He did not know you.”
“No, he did not,” Arabella agreed dully. “I feel such sadness. A sadness that I do not think I can explain, Cecelia.”
Her sister nodded in understanding. “You need not explain it,” she replied gently. “For the moment, this is all that needs to be said and done. We might return home now, if you wish?”
“I do,” Arabella said at once, not having the heart to remain in the very same room as her husband. “I feel very tired all of a sudden.”
“Then I shall have the carriage called at once,” Cecelia replied, her expression grave. “We shall be home before you know it, Arabella, and you shall have all the time you need to think about what to do next. “
3
Viscount Anthony Fitzpatrick groaned as he attempted to open his eyes. It felt as though men were bringing down hammers onto his skull, the light from the room burning in his face as he tried to wake up.
He had drunk champagne last evening. That had been a mistake. It had always made his head ache the following morning, no matter how much or how little he drank. He simply could not escape it.
The smell of coffee forced him out of bed. The butler had, of course, done his duty and ensured that the coffee and the slices of toast were waiting for Anthony on the small table close to the warm fire that burned in the grate. It was the height of summer, and it was not at all usual for Anthony to demand that he have a fire lit in the mornings. On the days he awoke with a painful head, he always felt rather chilled for a good few hours afterwards.
It took Anthony a good hour to finally come to his senses. Having woken up completely, he took in the sunshine streaming through his window and once again felt that old, familiar pang of longing strike him. He wanted to return home. He wanted to do nothing other than ride out to his estate and be lord and master of it once again. It had been three years now since he had last been within his own house, and yet, still, he knew he could not go back there. It was not yet time for him to do so.
Closing his eyes, Anthony let his mind travel back to the day of his wedding. It was painful to do so, and yet he could not prevent himself from returning there. He had taken in so much liquor that he could not even recall the face of his bride nor the vows that he had supposedly spoken to her. On attempting to follow her from the church, as he had meant to, he had been quite unable to put one foot in front of the other and so had crashed to the ground.
Everything had gone black.
How h
e had been brought from the church, he had not known, but he had awoken to see his new father-in-law glaring at him with cold fury etched on his face. Anthony had soon discovered that his bride had not only left him at the church but had decided to make her way to their estate in his carriage.
Of course, once he had sobered up, there had been every intention to go after her, to apologize and to beg her forgiveness, but then certain events came about, and everything had changed.
He had written to his wife, whose face he could not recall and whose name often escaped him, and she had dutifully written back to him, but there had never been anything of particular interest in either of their letters. Deep down, Anthony knew he was doing her wrong by not telling her the truth of the matter but part of him believed that it was best she knew very little. It was, most likely, important for her to think him an absent husband, an uncaring gentleman. That way, she would not fear for him, would not worry for his safety, nor cry about his prolonged absence from his estate. Once the matter was at an end, once he had fulfilled his duty, then he would be free to return to her and ensure that he attempted to make up for all the wrongs she had endured.
“My lord?”
A slight scratch at the door alerted Anthony to the presence of his butler. “Yes, come in.”
The door creaked open behind him, but Anthony did not look around. “Lord Thompson is waiting to see you, my lord. Should I ask him to return later?”
Anthony let out a long sigh, knowing that, most likely, his friend had already found his heart caught up with some young lady or other, as he did almost every week. No doubt Lord Thompson wanted to discuss it at length, going over the merits of such a lady and wondering aloud whether or not to court her.
It was a familiar routine.
“No, no, have him wait,” Anthony replied heavily. “I will wash, shave, and dress, however, so have him take some coffee or some such thing while he waits.”
The butler nodded. “At once, my lord. Your valet is waiting.”
Regency Engagements Box Set Page 20