by Heather Boyd
Arabella frowned and glanced around her. “If he thought it so dangerous, then why did he not come himself?”
“Wouldn’t do, my lady. Wouldn’t do your reputation any good to be seen alone with him. If you’d be so good as to return the way you came, I’m to follow at a discreet distance and ensure you’re sweetly tucked up at home again before the hour has passed.”
He stepped back, hands lax at his side. Why would Rothwell care for her safety and the continuation of her good reputation? He was the one to kiss her senseless and not even apologize for mistaking her for someone else. Perhaps he routinely kissed the wrong women. She shrugged aside her irritation at the idea and squared her shoulders. She was thinking irrationally to worry about that now. She had thought Rothwell uncaring of propriety in the beginning, but that wasn’t true so far. He had sent his own servant to make sure she returned home safely. That had to count for something.
Confused, Arabella hurried up the street, ducking through the dark mews. Now she was alone, she was a little unnerved by the shadows, but she drew comfort from the servant who followed. When she gained the rear square of her London home, a whistle sounded behind her. She turned but detected no sign of Rothwell’s servant lingering in her shadow anymore. “Thank him, please,” she called out but received no reply.
The first servants she passed were silent and watchful as she entered the house alone. When the butler stepped into her path, her pulse raced.
“May I ask if the young lady is on her way?”
Arabella glanced around, swallowing her worry that they would send word to Farnsworth immediately. She nodded slowly and was pleased when the butler and every other servant grinned, though they quickly stifled the expression. They were on her niece’s side about Parker, it seemed. Their reaction gave her hope that she had done the right thing in helping the girl flee the arranged marriage and that they might help delay the discovery of her disappearance by Farnsworth for as long as possible tomorrow morning.
She returned to her bedchamber and removed her cloak and gloves, satisfied that at least her niece might have a chance for happiness, if there was such a thing. She rubbed her arms. Come morning, Farnsworth would be furious. She’d be blamed and very rightly, too. She’d been a very poor chaperone. Arabella added that to her secret list of failures—wife, mother, lover, chaperone.
A miserable tally if ever there was one.
With nothing to do for Cecily anymore, she snuggled into the chair placed before the fire and tried to picture a life in Surrey again. Mind you, if Farnsworth didn’t wash his hands of her entirely over Cecily’s elopement, she might never see even that place in the future. What would she do then? Her portion from her marriage was pitifully small. She had no relatives that might shelter her if Farnsworth kicked her out. She’d be destitute, forced to rely on the charity of others to keep a roof over her head. Arabella pressed her head to her knees and hugged her legs as she tried to think of a solution that didn’t involve a hermetic lifestyle in Surrey. The only one that came to mind was remarriage. But who would want her, and at such short notice? Could she even bear to be a wife again?
CHAPTER NINE
Merrick paused just inside the doorway of the coffee house and surveyed his surroundings. At this hour the business was booming, and there were very few chairs left unoccupied in the establishment. An arm rose at the back of the room, blue wool sleeve, gold lace stripe, and buttons at the cuff. That was sure to be Captain Hastings, his cousin’s commanding officer, waiting to meet him as arranged.
Merrick eased through the crowd, stopping when he reached the table. “Hastings. Thank you for coming.”
Pale blue eyes met his, the kind that reminded him of a windswept sky and hours of solitude. Hastings and Merrick had met in a Southport tavern some ten years ago when Hastings had been a lieutenant on leave from his uncle’s command and Merrick at loose ends. They had been friends ever since, with one short period of estrangement that they both preferred not to talk about.
“How could I resist such a cryptic and urgent message?” Hastings shifted his bicorne to the side of the table. “I’ll have you know I left behind a very comfortable bed that does not rock with the tide, so I hope our business does not delay my return to it for very long. It’s quite a novel experience.”
Hastings had become something of a lone wolf in the service, and if one believed the rumors, he was utterly ruthless in war. No quarter given, no prize beyond reach. Some might call it ill luck that he was not on good terms with Merrick’s Ford relations, but that had not stopped his rise through the ranks to captain of one of the fastest frigates in the service. That made Hastings an indispensable ally. He did not back down from a fight and had superb sense save for one notable occasion.
Merrick slid into a chair opposite him and signaled for a coffee. “How much do you like my cousin?”
“Which one?” Hastings’s gaze sharpened and then his shoulders slumped. “I suppose you could only mean my lieutenant. As well as any man under my command, I suppose.”
Merrick smiled and sipped his coffee, rolling the flavor in his mouth before he continued. “I was hoping perhaps you liked him more.”
Hastings nudged his coffee cup to the edge of the table to be refilled. “What has he done?”
Merrick waited till the cup had been replenished and the servant had departed before answering.
“Run for Scotland to be married,” Merrick told him honestly, lowering his voice so his words would carry no farther than his friend. “The family does not know that yet and don’t need to be informed until the lad comes back.”
Hastings rubbed one hand through his dark hair and then shook his head. “You helped him? Damn it, Rothwell. When are you going to cut all ties with them? You know how they are when they believe you at fault. They always make you do something rash you’ll regret later. He could have waited out the bans, surely.”
Merrick shook his head. “By then he would have been back at sea, and her father had said no.”
Hastings at least took a moment to consider before responding. “I thought him a brave lad from the start. Yet I still do not understand the rush.”
“If the woman you loved was about to marry a much older and undeserving man, wouldn’t you try everything in your power to keep her for yourself if you could, even turning to the black sheep of the family for help?”
As Merrick had hoped, Hastings’s sympathy shifted in Laurie’s favor immediately. “I see why you meddled and why you came to me. This situation has a ring of familiarity about it. I, too, have stood at the crossroads before with only your support at my side. You are a good man. What do you want me to do?”
Merrick reached across the table slapped Hastings’s shoulder. His friend had never forgiven himself for losing the woman he loved, and Merrick admired him for that. “I’ve given orders for a swift return, but there is always a chance of mishap on the road. I want to ask you not to declare him absent if such a situation delays him. He has no intention of deserting his position, I promise you.”
“The correct term is run. How can you not know that given your grandfather was a distinguished admiral, your uncle a rear admiral, and every one of your male cousins an officer of the navy?”
“I stopped listening to the admiral, and the rest of them, quite some time ago.”
“I wish we all had that luxury.” Hastings smiled ruefully. “You know, I have often wished we’d been family. I could do with a man like you in my corner. All I have is rusticating Rupert, and he is no help at all. Ready to believe the worst of a man and ally himself with your enemies.”
“I saw him a few weeks ago. He’s rounder, by the way.” Merrick laughed. “Besides, you would not want me for a relation. I do more for my friends than for family anyway.”
Hastings paused with his cup in midair. “Does that not go against the family motto: family first?”
“The full Ford family motto is a bit longer than that. Never admit fault, always repay in kind, family f
irst. Luckily, I’m not truly a Ford. Only a half-serve was dealt me. A flaw in the makeup of my character I can embrace wholeheartedly. I chose to help only where needed.”
“The lad is your cousin.”
“Yes.”
A grin tugged the corners of Hastings’s mouth. “So family first would seem to apply.”
“Not in this case.” Merrick was doing this to protect Arabella. Mostly. “Perhaps there was a little revenge in my decision, but my reasons are my own and I’ll not share them.”
“You have more secrets than a Catholic priest at confession.” Hastings sat back, scowling. “Well, let us hope he’s not made a rash decision. I’ve some leeway in my orders, but not more than a day or two.”
“Thank you.” Merrick eyed his friend’s pale complexion. “How have you been?”
“Much the same. A skirmish or two, but no prize to add to my distinction.” His eyes grew unfocused. “And you?”
“The same for the most part.” He leaned forward. “Since you are not here for long, I should mention I’m going to take a wife this season.”
Hastings blinked. “Dear God, why?”
“For many reasons. The succession is one.”
“Love?”
A vision of Arabella flittered through his mind and he swallowed. “If I am in luck.”
“Luck has nothing to do with love, but I will wish you well in finding the right woman.” Hastings chewed his lower lip and fiddled with his cup. “How is she?”
Hastings could only mean one woman. Merrick’s cousin, Lady Sally Ford. The woman whose heart Hastings had broken. “I imagine as irritated as ever. Freddy is to be married. Rutherford arranged it.” He shrugged. “I have not spoken with Sally this season. She’s still in the country, no doubt making sure this event takes place without a hitch.”
Hastings wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “When you see her, be sure to pass along my compliments.”
“I’ll consider it, though there is every chance she will shoot the messenger.”
Hastings glanced at the tables around them. “She won’t shoot you. You were her champion—the one who beat me bloody for hurting her—remember?”
“Better my fists than her brother’s plans.” Merrick grimaced at the memory. “They would have keelhauled you if they’d gotten to you first.”
“True.” Hastings agreed with a heavy sigh.
He leaned closer to Hastings, noting the sweat on his brow and the tiredness of his eyes. “I say, are you sure you’re at all well?”
“It’s nothing. Just a chill.” Hastings wiped his brow with a handkerchief, one that might once have been pristine but now resembled a rag. “Now, if the matter that brought me here is concluded, I’ll be on my way. That bed I found is calling me back to it.”
“Is there a woman in that bed?”
“You know me, I never carry tales.”
Although Merrick grinned at the reminder of Hastings’s secretive ways, he was a little worried about his friend. Hastings was rarely unwell. Perhaps a bed was exactly what he needed. “Enjoy your rest and take care of yourself, Captain. Perhaps I will see you again if you have the time during your leave.”
“I’d like that, but the Admiralty will need my ship at the ready soon.” Hastings collected his bicorne and then sauntered out, leaving Merrick to finish his coffee alone. Poor bloody Hastings. He’d had happiness snatched from his grasp and suffered the consequences even now for a decision he hadn’t made.
As Merrick sat there thinking about love and the ramifications of foolish choices and mistakes, he decided an ability to forgive might be desired in a spouse. He’d had a lot of lovers in the past, most of whom he was still on good terms with. He should not like any misunderstandings to take place simply because some woman had touched him intimately once and his new wife learned of it and didn’t like that fact.
He threw some money on the table for the proprietor and wandered out. At this time of the day, he was often at loose ends. Most of his unattached friends were still abed and did not like to be disturbed. The married ones were with their wives, and he didn’t like to intrude upon them. A pity Hastings had run off so soon. But that waiting bed might be just the thing for the man.
Merrick waved for his coachman to bring up the barouche and join him before the coffee house. “I’m bored. Take me somewhere interesting, Jimmy.”
The wiry man at the reins scratched his head, sparing a glance for the overcast sky. “It won’t rain yet, but it might soon. Green Park, milord?”
“Yes, that will do as well as any place, I suppose.” No excitement possible so close to home, but at least there was something of nature to be seen. “I might even stretch my legs for a bit and inspect the progress made on the temple.”
The Temple of Concord was to be the centerpiece of the Prince Regent’s celebrations in a few months’ time. Merrick had developed the habit of noting the progress, or lack thereof, since he’d come up to Town.
“Very good, milord.”
As the reins cracked over the horses, Merrick settled against the squabs and considered how the family might be taking the news of Laurence’s disappearance so far. He hoped they were running around in circles trying to find him. With luck, and good speed, his cousin and his love would be well underway on their adventure. The thought gave him a great sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t every day he got a little revenge on the family for their adherence to an antiquated code of ethics.
Fords did not always come first. Sometimes it was better to put the needs of others ahead of self-interest.
When they reached the park, his driver skillfully pulled up under the shade of an overhanging branch and tied off the horses. “Should I wait for you here?”
He smiled. “No. Return to the house and let Holland know where I am. I’ll walk back directly.”
He headed toward the construction site, pondering how far they’d progressed since his last stroll past. As he approached a black poplar, a scrap of light green muslin against the gnarled bark caught his eye. When he was level with the spot, he found the scrap actually belonged to the walking dress Arabella was wearing. “Lady Farnsworth?”
She sagged against the tree and then peeked at him from beneath a large-brimmed bonnet trimmed with ribbon, her smile hesitant. “Oh, thank heavens it’s you. I thought for a moment that Farnsworth had found me.”
“You thought I was Farnsworth?” Merrick glanced down at his olive-green waistcoat and coat in disappointment. “I really must speak to my tailor.”
“No, no.” She waved her gloved hand about and laughed. “I saw the carriage and a tall man step out and hid immediately just in case. There is nothing lacking in your attire, sir. As always, you appear very distinguished.”
“Thank you. And as always, you look very lovely yourself.” Merrick glanced about the park but saw no sign of Lord Farnsworth anywhere, or a servant that might belong to her. “If I may ask, why are you hiding from your brother-in-law and alone? Most women don’t find the construction of the Temple of Concord particularly fascinating. Is Farnsworth angry with you over his daughter’s elopement?”
“Well, not yet. As far as I can tell, he doesn’t suspect she’s gone, but I’d like to delay the inevitable discussion for as long as possible.” She grimaced, fidgeting with the piping adorning the sleeve of her spencer. “You see, I’m a terrible liar. If he asks me directly what I know about her disappearance, I am afraid I will blurt everything out at once.”
Merrick studied her. Despite how pretty she appeared on the surface, her eyes held a wealth of weariness he hadn’t encountered before. “Did you worry for the whole of last night?”
She nodded slowly. “It is not every day you fail so abysmally as a chaperone.”
“You did not fail.” He rushed to assure her. “Far from it. Everyone has a choice in how they behave. The girl chose not to follow your excellent example and is the poorer for it in my opinion. With or without help that girl would have twisted my cousin around h
er finger and run off.”
Her eyes widened. “After my behavior the other night, I do not feel I am necessarily an excellent example.”
It was just a kiss. More or less harmless to a widow’s reputation if it never recurred. Arabella made it sound as if she’d made love in a public place. “You did nothing wrong. Any blame should fall on my head.”
Arabella met his gaze and her eyes softened. “Thank you.”
He shifted his weight from foot to foot. He couldn’t help but hope she was warming to him. Determined to find out, he took a pace toward her to see how she would react to his proximity. “If it is any comfort, there is little chance of anyone catching them. I gave orders for the team to be driven hard and fast for the border, and they are not going to the usual place where many an imprudent match is made.”
“Oh,” she said as she straightened, drawing closer herself. “Where will they be married?”
Merrick was mesmerized by the change in her behavior. She was no longer so timid. She met his eyes, her body turning toward him as they talked. So many unwise thoughts crossed his mind. “If you cannot lie, I’d best not mention the name, but there was a little town not far from the border where I’ve stayed once or twice. The first time I went there, my driver had gotten us thoroughly lost. The second time, I went by choice and stayed a good long while. The place is little frequented by travelers, so they should not be discovered until the deed is done.”
“That does relieve my mind. Thank you.”
Still, she did not smile with her usual good spirits and that puzzled him. “There is something else, isn’t there? Are you angry about the kiss? I will apologize if necessary.”
“No. It’s not that. Quite the contrary.”
He moved closer, intrigued by her response. “What then? I know we are not the closest of acquaintances, but if I can ease your mind, I would gladly do anything you ask.”
