by Burke, Darcy
“I highly doubt my gown would preclude a gentleman from asking me to dance.” Arabella spotted Lady Satterfield and her stepdaughter-in-law, the Duchess of Kendal. They stood with a few other ladies in close conversation. Arabella noted several other groups of ladies clustered together. One of the ladies in one gathering looked toward Arabella and her mother, her gaze lingering just the slightest moment.
A bead of apprehension worked its way down Arabella’s spine. Something was wrong. The usual people who might have stopped and exchanged pleasantries with them had not. A second person seemed to look their way, but Arabella couldn’t be quite sure.
The next set finished, and still no gentleman approached. Arabella was now almost certain something was amiss. And she’d be willing to wager it wasn’t her gown.
The Duchess of Kendal and Lady Satterfield came toward them, and Arabella relaxed. It was apparently all in her mind. She was quite relieved to be wrong.
Lady Satterfield greeted them. “Good evening, Mrs. Stoke, Miss Stoke.”
“Good evening,” Mama said, curtseying. Arabella did the same.
“Would you mind if we stepped to the side?” Lady Satterfield asked softly.
Arabella’s apprehension slithered back. Her pulse tripped as they moved toward the wall. “Is everything all right?” She hadn’t meant to ask, but alarm was growing inside her.
“I’m afraid there’s a distressing rumor going about,” Lady Satterfield said. “About your financial situation.”
The duchess gazed at them with sympathy. “We thought it best to come and speak with you, to lend our support. We do not care one whit about your finances.”
Mama had gone quite pale. Arabella gently clasped her elbow to keep her steady. “It will be all right, Mama,” she whispered, even as she knew it wouldn’t be. If everyone knew—
“What are they saying?” Mama asked, her voice sounding strained.
“That Mr. Stoke gambled all your money away, and that Miss Stoke is desperate to marry as soon as possible.”
“Desperate?” Mama croaked.
Arabella truly worried she might swoon. “We should go.”
“Let us escort you,” the duchess offered.
Tears filled Mama’s eyes. “That isn’t necessary.”
“Yes, thank you,” Arabella said firmly. She needed to get her mother out of the ballroom before she fainted or began to cry.
They left the ballroom, Lady Satterfield guiding Arabella’s mother, while Arabella walked closely behind with the duchess at her side. “I hope you won’t credit anything you hear,” the duchess said with great encouragement. “People can be cruel. Some take joy in other’s misfortune because it makes them feel better about their own tragedies and disappointments.”
“I appreciate you and Lady Satterfield coming to our aid. You are most kind.”
“I know a thing or two about being the center of unwanted attention—far worse than this, mind you.” She lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “A scandal. I spent nine years in exile until I came to work as Lady Satterfield’s companion.”
“Then you married her stepson.”
“I did.” She smiled, her brown eyes lighting with mirth. “Sometimes even scandal has a happy ever after.”
When they reached the foyer, the footman sent for their gig. Arabella’s mother, still pale, turned to Lady Satterfield. “What will we do?”
“The rumor will die down.”
“It isn’t a rumor,” Mama breathed. “Arabella must marry. If she doesn’t—” Her voice trailed off with a croak, and she bowed her head.
Lady Satterfield patted her shoulder. “You poor dear.” She looked to Arabella. “Should we accompany you home?”
They couldn’t, even if Arabella wanted them to, since the gig wouldn’t support all of them. She summoned an appreciative smile. “No, thank you. We’ll be fine. I’ll take good care of her.”
The footman indicated their vehicle would be waiting in just a moment.
Arabella took her mother’s arm. “Thank you, Your Grace, my lady. We are deeply grateful for your kindness and concern.” She escorted her mother outside and to their waiting gig.
Their groom handed Arabella the reins, and, once he and her mother were situated, she drove them into the street.
Mama leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “You can’t tell your father.”
“No.” He’d been doing so much better since Arabella had lied about the investigation. He was eating again and was getting dressed every day. The exposure of their financial devastation would likely send him right back into the pit of despair and illness.
What were they going to do? She had to pray Graham would be able to recover their money from Tibbord. She’d never thought it would truly happen, but she now realized she’d hoped it would—with everything she had.
“How on earth did someone find out?” Mama cried. “We’ve been so careful.”
They had, but all it took was one shopkeeper to whom Papa owed a debt to mention something to someone who enjoyed spreading gossip. “It’s possible someone simply puzzled it out,” Arabella said. “It’s not hard to see we are struggling. We have only this gig. None of my gowns are from this Season. We live in a smaller house every year.” It hardly seemed likely that anyone would pay attention to their house, but what did Arabella know? Mama used to invite friends over, and now she didn’t. Perhaps that had been noted.
“It hardly matters how they know. Now we have nothing. No money, no prospects, no support,” her mother said flatly. “I had hoped the Duke of Halstead might come up to snuff, but I daresay not even he will want you.”
If she only knew… Arabella’s gut twisted. She hated the lack of emotion in her mother’s voice more than anything else. “Mama—”
“We’ll have to sell off whatever we have left. And leave London. We’ll find a village somewhere we can afford to live—if such a thing exists. I really have no idea how much debt your father owes. We’ll look for a village with a nice vicar in need of a wife. That would see you settled, and then I needn’t worry.”
“Mama,” Arabella said more forcefully. “There may be another way. Don’t ask me to explain, but please have faith for a little longer.”
“Don’t ask you to explain? Your father keeps things from me, and now you will too?” Her emotion was back—anger, sadness, frustration.
Arabella wished she wasn’t driving the gig so she could look at her mother, so she could take her hand and try to infuse her with strength and calm. With strength, at least—that, Arabella had. Calmness was something else entirely. It was one thing to convince her mother to trust that things would work out and another to believe it. Which made her nothing more than a fraud.
Perhaps her mother was right. Perhaps it was time they took matters into their own hands instead of letting men try to sort it out for them. “My apologies, Mama. I know of someone who is trying to get Papa’s investment back, but I don’t know if it will work. I trust that this person is doing his best, but you’re right—we should determine the truth of our finances and plan accordingly. I’m sure we can find a vicar in want of a wife.” Arabella was proud of herself for not choking on the words.
She didn’t want a vicar. If she was going to take a husband, she wanted Graham. But would he want her? She had no way of knowing. Maybe it was time she found out.
Chapter 14
By Monday morning, Arabella was exhausted. They’d tried to keep the news of their situation from Papa, but a pair of creditors had called on Saturday and demanded to be paid. After that, Papa had finally laid out the amount of their debt. It was, unfortunately, far more distressing than either Arabella or her mother had realized.
This had sent Papa into a downward spiral of agony in his gut, and he’d taken to his bed, where he’d remained since. Arabella had done most of the nursing—she’d sensed her mother needed time to organize her emotions as well as their finances.
Arabella walked into the small breakfast room to s
ee her mother seated at the table, her blonde hair swept into a simple but elegant style. Her face was pale, but her eyes were no longer red from crying, and she held herself quite regally, if truth be told. Arabella smiled, grateful to see her mother in such a state.
“You look well this morning, Mama.” Arabella pressed a kiss to her cheek before sitting across the small table from her.
Mama spread butter on a roll. “Thank you, dear. I have appointments today, with the property agent and with two more of your father’s creditors. I am hopeful we will be able to settle the accounts with something we have here, or with the funds from selling the rest of our things.” She gave Arabella a determined look, and it was truly as if a new woman had been born from the ashes of their financial destruction.
Arabella plucked a roll from the basket in the middle of the table. “You’ve been very busy.”
“I have, and I do appreciate you tending to your father.”
Arabella noted she didn’t ask how he was faring. “I think he slept better last night. Mrs. Woodcock’s new tonic seems to be helping.”
“That’s good to hear,” Mama said somewhat absentmindedly as she perused a newspaper next to her plate. “I’m looking for villages in need of a vicar. Sometimes such information is published in the paper, and we can use it to find a village where a new vicar takes up a living and is thus in need of a wife.”
That seemed a difficult situation to find, but Arabella wouldn’t try to stop her mother from trying, especially if it made her feel better. She was on a dedicated mission to save them, and Arabella only wished she’d been able to do so.
She hadn’t heard from Graham and tried not to dwell on her disappointment. Perhaps he hadn’t yet met with Tibbord.
“Is there room for me?” Papa asked from the doorway.
Both Arabella and her mother swung their heads toward him in shock.
“Of course,” Arabella said, standing to go help him.
He was actually dressed, or mostly anyway, with a banyan over his shirt and cravat. He also wore breeches, stockings, and slippers. Arabella had assumed all the progress he’d recently made would disappear.
Papa held up his hand before she could offer to guide him to the table. He gave her a nod, then looked toward her mother. “Is it all right with you, Mariah?”
Mama hesitated the slightest moment, dropping her gaze to her plate, then looked toward them once more. “Yes.”
Arabella stood back as her father made his way to the table, then retook her seat. Papa angled himself toward Mama, and Arabella briefly wondered if she should leave.
“I owe you a sincere apology.” He turned to look at Arabella, his lips stretching briefly into a sad smile. “And you. I did so many things wrong, not the least of which was trying to shield you from my mistakes. If I’d shared the depth of my misdeeds with you long ago, perhaps we could have come up with a plan to fix it all—together.”
“Yes, that would have been nice.” Icicles clung to Mama’s voice.
“Mama,” Arabella murmured.
Mama relaxed her shoulders and looked at her husband with a fierce stare. “It is going to take some time for me to forgive you.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
“I was foolish too,” Mama said, briefly pursing her lips. “I should have known how bad things were. We should have abandoned London and our extravagant style of living long ago.” She shifted her gaze to Arabella. “I only wanted you to have the ability to make a good match—you deserve that.”
Since everyone was baring themselves, Arabella decided to do the same. “Making a good marriage was your dream, Mama, not mine.”
“I know,” she said, grimacing as she reached over and squeezed Arabella’s hand. “I was a fool about that too.”
Their butler, Baxter, entered. “Sorry to disturb you, but you’ve a visitor.”
“We are still eating breakfast,” Mama said, letting go of Arabella and picking up her buttered roll.
“I can see that, Mrs. Stoke. However, His Grace, the Duke of Halstead is here, and he says the matter is urgent.”
Arabella’s heart began to thud. The pounding in her chest felt as if everyone in the room would hear the sound.
Mama snapped her gaze to Arabella. “His Grace is here for an urgent matter. Can it be he heard of your situation and wishes to rescue you?”
Oh, it was a fairy-tale ending to be sure. However, Arabella didn’t think fairy tales were true—at least not for her. Still, she couldn’t deny the excitement racing through her.
“Let us find out,” Papa said, rising from the table. “Give us a moment, Baxter, and then show His Grace to the sitting room.”
Arabella got to her feet but held her hands out toward them. “Wait! He may not be here for that purpose. Please do not raise your hopes.”
They both gave her a single nod but didn’t appear convinced. Arabella quickly preceded them from the room.
She strove to calm her nerves on the way to the sitting room. Once there, she took a position in front of the settee.
Mama and Papa entered, and went to stand before their favorite chairs. Seeing her father here looking better than he had in months gave Arabella courage for whatever came next. To think that in a few moments they might be saved was nearly overwhelming. Her hands began to shake. She clasped them tightly before her just as Baxter showed Graham in.
Arabella realized this was the most number of days she’d gone without seeing him since they’d met. Her heart squeezed as she took in his dark hair, neatly styled, his crisp, handsome appearance, and the intensity of his dark eyes. She tried to read the emotion buried within—was there happiness? Sorrow? Remorse? She couldn’t decipher anything.
She and her mother curtsied, while her father bowed.
“Good morning,” Graham said, extending a leg. He acknowledged Arabella’s mother briefly and then Arabella—but his eyes didn’t linger on hers, which Arabella took as a bad sign—before settling his gaze on Papa. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Stoke.”
“It is my honor and privilege,” Papa said. “I am sorry I wasn’t able to receive you before.”
“I understood you were unwell. May I say how wonderful it is to see you looking so hale?”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Papa gestured toward the settee. “Please, sit and tell us the purpose of this welcome call.”
Arabella waited until he came to the settee before she sat. She tried to silently ask for reassurance, but he didn’t even look at her. When they sat, he arranged himself as far to the edge away from her as possible.
This was worse than a bad sign. Arabella’s stomach dropped straight into the basement, and she took a deep breath to keep herself from feeling light-headed.
“I come bearing excellent news,” Graham said, surprising Arabella. Now he glanced toward her and smiled, though it was somewhat brief. “I’ve been working to collect money that was stolen by a Mr. Piers Tibbord.” He looked toward Arabella’s father. “I believe you know him?”
Papa sucked in a sharp breath and coughed. “He’s an utter blackguard. How are you involved in all this?” He shot a look of surprise at Arabella. “This is the party who was investigating him?”
“What party? What investigation?” Mama asked, sounding both confused and annoyed. She shifted her gaze to Arabella too. “Is this what you were hinting at the other night?”
“Allow me to explain,” Graham said easily. Arabella was grateful for his interjection. “Yes, I investigated Mr. Tibbord. He’s been fleecing people for some time. His name is not Piers Tibbord, but Drobbit. He is a cousin to the Marquess of Ripley.”
Arabella thought her parents gasped in shock, but wasn’t sure she heard them accurately over her own sharp intake of breath.
“Not only is he a thief, but he hides behind a false identity?” Papa asked derisively.
“He is a horrid person altogether.” Graham’s voice held a dark quality that Arabella wasn’t sure she’d ever heard. �
�But the good news I bring is that I was able to secure your investment from him and am happy to return it.” He withdrew a bank note from his coat and stood so he could hand it to her father.
Mama’s hand went instantly to her mouth, while her eyes widened to a rather extreme degree. Papa stared at the note, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Then he dashed a finger over his eye. “This is…a miracle.”
It was indeed. Arabella could scarcely believe Graham had been successful. She’d never expected Tibbord—or Drobbit—to return the money. However, since Drobbit’s cousin was the marquess, perhaps he’d helped make this happen. Arabella longed to ask for the details but didn’t want her parents to see how involved she’d been—with the investigation, but more importantly, with Graham. She longed to throw her arms around him and thank him. Instead, she clasped her hands together and squeezed until her knuckles turned white.
“A miracle, I say!” her father shouted, grinning. He looked at Arabella’s mother, who now had tears streaming from her eyes—happy tears, unlike the ones she’d shed following the ball.
Papa turned his attention to Arabella, his eyes bright. “Now you can marry however you like—or no one at all! I’m so sorry for the burden I placed on you, my dear. I will support whatever you choose. Whomever you choose. Or not.”
Mama sniffed. “I will too. If you truly wish to remain unwed, that is your decision. I want you to be happy above all else.”
A month ago, Arabella would have celebrated in their joy and basked in the chance to choose her own future. But everything had changed once she’d met Graham. She looked over at him. He was watching her parents with pleasant satisfaction.
Arabella leaned toward him slightly. “Did you—”
Graham turned his head and smiled at her. “I told you everything would work out, and it has. I hope you’re as pleased as I am.”
Pleased.
She nodded mutely, unable to find the words to say how pleased wasn’t at all what she felt. He, however, looked quite content. That was it, then. He’d done what he’d set out to do. He’d recovered their money, and now they would go their separate ways. Why should she have expected anything else? They hadn’t discussed a future. Never mind the intimacy they’d shared. It hadn’t been based on declarations or promises. They shared lovely moments together, moments she would cherish her entire life. Moments that were now in the past.
