"In what manner?" she asked quietly, hardly daring to believe he meant what she thought he did.
"For example, your brother has give me the use of your fortune, your dowry, to invest as I see fit. Once you marry, that dowry passes out of your hands. I believe that to be most unfair and short-sighted, and would like to try to remedy that. If you ever find yourself in trouble for whatever reason, you can always come to me. But if we invest your money wisely, you can have a nest egg of your own that no one can ever take from you."
She stared at him. "Is such a thing possible?" she asked quietly, testing his convictions.
"It is. I will teach you, Miss Neville, make it possible for you to stand on your own two feet. We will see the solicitors to draw up the papers, and open a protected bank account in your name only for the dividends. I do not want to ever be accused of profiting from my guardianship of you. All too often young ladies lose their fortunes through the peculation of unscrupulous relatives. I would have your position and my character unimpeachable."
"Very well. It will give us something to work towards in terms of my education and reform. What do we do now?"
He sighed. "I don't know. It's New Year's Eve. Dinner is ready. I am supposed to go to Lady Pemberton's, but do not wish to leave you here alone, since your holidays must have been pretty wretched what with one thing and another. Peter says to kiss your hand for him. You did get your presents, did you not?"
"Yes, indeed. They were wonderful. More than generous. The pearls are exquisite," she said with a warm smile.
He laughed shortly. "I had hoped to give you presents you would grow into. The joke is on me."
"They're wonderful, and exceedingly thoughtful."
He saw the sincerity in her smile, and relaxed. "If you're feeling up to it, shall we go in to dinner?"
She twisted her lips into a grimace. "I'm not terribly hungry, what with all the excitement and upset, but I will accompany you at any rate."
The word ‘accompany' gave him an idea. But no-it was too absurd, and would be courting disaster.
He managed to get through the soup without choking or making any inappropriate remarks.
They had just been served the fish course when he said, "Travis tells me that you were shopping today. You didn't by any chance happen to purchase a ball gown, did you?"
"I did, when I first arrived. A few of them, but one particularly lovely frock. Dreadfully frivolous of me I know, but it was so superb-" She stopped and stared at his waistcoat. Black with silver embroidery. His cravat was the same.
"Good. Therefore we have a choice, Miss Neville. We either both stay home and have a peaceful evening settling you into your new home, or we run the gauntlet of the Ton and introduce you at Lady Pemberton's as my ward."
"Are you sure you want to-"
"I would not be asking you otherwise," he said with some asperity.
"What time are you supposed to be there?"
"About seven, though she did ask me to come early to see about the wines for her. It's a hobby of mine, you see."
"In that case you cannot disappoint her." She rose and placed her napkin on the table. "I shall be down shortly."
"No hurry, my dear," he said with a wave of his hand, turning his attention to his mail so he did not have to look at her lovely face. "I have a great deal of correspondence to catch up on, and as I have said, seven will be fine if you need time to get ready, have a bath and such."
He was convinced he would not see her for two hours at least, and hoped he would have regained some degree of equanimity by then. He still didn't know what on earth to make of this astonishing turn of events.
Blake was even more stunned when Arabella returned ten minutes later, not least because it had taken her so little time to get ready. She was easily the most superb woman he had ever seen in his life.
The gown fit her to perfection, the black and silver embroidery on the neckline, hem and sleeves, which were tied with black satin ribbons, making the dress completely unique. She wore long black gloves above the elbow, held in place with black sleeve garters. The gauzy shawl both concealed and enhanced her generous bosom, and the jet choker, ear bobs and bracelets rendered the outfit complete.
She had dressed her hair a la Grecque, with silver ribbons through her glossy black hair, the curls piled up at the back and hanging down in elegant ringlets almost to her waist. He had all to do not to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.
"Have you got a cloak or pelisse?" he managed to mumble, still tongue-tied by her awesome beauty.
She nodded, showing him the black velvet garment draped in the crook of her elbow. "A pelisse."
"Reticule, fan?"
She showed him her wrist. "All here."
Blake gave her a tight smile. "In that case, we might as well take Lady Pemberton's by storm."
He offered his arm, and told himself that in no circumstances was he to think of her as anything other than his friend's sister and thus not even to be contemplated as a desirable woman.
Once again, he berated himself over what a fool he had been at the inn, all he had lost due to his self-righteous indignation.
For Arabella Neville was now well and truly beyond his reach. Now and forever.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Once he was sure Arabella was safely in the carriage and wrapped up well against the cold, he asked, "Are you any good at dancing?"
"I'm a bit out of practice. I've not gone to many balls since my father passed away."
"Trust me, I shall set you straight. I enjoy the quadrille. Word of warning. We usually substitute the moulinet for the chaîne desdames in our sets during the final figure."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"You shall have to dance the first waltz and quadrille with me, of course. Then we shall see. If I am curt with anyone, you will know it is because they are a rake and thus unsuitable and not to be entertained with more than the barest courtesy."
"I see."
He looked her over again appraisingly once more, though there was no passion in his gaze now that she could see. He shook his head. "I feel as though I am bringing a tender little lamb into a pack of ravening wolves."
"I am not so naïve as you suppose."
"You could have fooled me," he muttered.
Her eyes flashed with indignant fire. "We said we were going to forget all about that-"
"Between us, yes. But as I have said, there are hundreds of men far less scrupulous than myself."
"Then I need have no fear, for I know you will not let me come to any harm."
He searched her face for any sign of sarcasm, but found none.
His expression gentled for a moment. In the white, black and silver gown she was truly a vision. "At the risk of sounding as if I'm breaking our pact already, Arabella, you look, well, you look divine. I shall have to fend off all the swains tonight with a cane."
She smiled at him slightly. "Surely not all. I thought the whole purpose of this was to introduce me around the Town, further my circle of acquaintance, not scare them all off because you are so Puritanical."
"Er, yes, quite, I meant the rakes," he said as he helped her settle more comfortably in the carriage under the travelling rugs.
The vehicle seemed like an old friend to her after all of the hours she had spent in it during the great storm. Blake did not sit next to her this time, but ensured both footwarmers were nearest to her.
He evidently recalled how they had met as well, for once they had nestled into their seats he said in a low tone, "I trust you did not suffer any lasting ill effects from your ordeal, Miss Neville. I mean, you look well. But your ribs-"
"Are healing nicely, thank you. Apart from a head cold for a couple of days over Christmas, I have been well."
"Glad to hear it."
"What of John?" she asked.
"Still resting at The Bishop's Mitre at Rede Village, but he should be fit to travel soon. James and Mr. Greengage too are on the road to recovery."
"You as well, Belle. Pardon me. Miss Neville."
"But you stopped for us. Not to mention your presence of mind in coping with the crisis."
He bowed at the praise but remained silent.
"And you?" she asked after a time. "How are you, Dr. Sanderson?"
"I have been well," he replied shortly.
"You look a bit tired to me. It must have been a long journey down from Bath. What of your friends you went to visit?"
"My friend Michael is as well as can be expected. The war, you know. But he sends his best, and is very much looking forward to meeting you." As soon as he said the words he could have kicked himself.
Her long lashes flew upwards. "Me? Why, how on earth could he know anything about me?"
"You are my ward, you know. He finds it quite amusing to think of me with a cute little moppet in short skirts. He shall be even more amused when he sees you. And he knows Peter from university and the army, though your brother is somewhat younger than us."
"So glad to be the object of such mirth for you and your friends," she said coolly.
He frowned. "Anything but mirth by the time this night is over, I assure you."
She raised her brows, and would have asked him what he meant.
But they were already outside Lady Pemberton's, and several people, including her nephew Matthew Dane, his best friend Randall Avenel, Michael's youngest brother, and their fast set of friends, were on the stoop ahead of them.
"I say, whatever you do, don't mention Michael to anyone," he said quickly.
"No, not at all. I shall treat all of our private conversations as just that," she replied, wondering why he seemed so unaccountably nervous.
Blake did not get out of the carriage immediately, but stalled for time by adjusting his cuffs and cravat shakily.
Damn. Blake had no idea how he was going to manage to maintain his composure in front of Randall given the huge secret he had undertaken to keep on Michael's behalf.
Blake's consciousness of his own deception was almost painful. But he had given his word...
Even worse, Matthew and Randall were rakes of the first order. Despite having been decent enough during their school days as part of the Rakehell set, once they had gone up to Oxford, they had fallen prey to all manner of temptations, and the chaste and devout young men had suddenly taken up the petticoat line.
"You look fine," she said after a time, when he continued to adjust his toilette but made no move to exit the vehicle.
She reached out to smooth down his cravat. He sat back with a hiss of sucked in breath as though burnt.
"Thank you, I can manage," he said in a tone which was unmistakably curt.
His reaction was not lost upon Arabella. She took it to be revulsion rather than panic, and shrank back into her seat once more.
Blake felt sure if he allowed her to touch him he would spontaneously combust. He also knew his delaying tactic here in the carriage would only forestall the inevitable, and sat back in his seat looking gloomy for a time.
Lady Pemberton's nephew was a real connoisseur of women, but at least if they did not enter together Matthew Dane would not have the chance to take Arabella over all night. He would naturally avoid Randall like the plague, without making it too obvious if he could possibly help it. They were all supposed to be friends, after all.
She looked at Blake levelly, then scrutinised her own ensemble while she waited. She peeped out the window.
"I think the men you are seeking to avoid will have cleared the hall by now. If I may stay with you to learn more about wine, that would be most interesting."
He looked at her in surprise. My, she was perceptive. And wine?
"It is not normally a subject upon which ladies are expected to be well informed, but if you would really like to know-"
She offered him her hand with a nod. "Really."
He took her hand and gave her a tight smile. "Very well, then. Off we go."
It would have been fair to say you could have knocked Lady Pemberton over with a feather when she saw Blake arrive with Arabella upon his arm.
"Bless my soul, my dear boy, I could not be more delighted! What a beauty! And I imagine she has a great deal of intelligence and fire. Just what you need to make your life complete."
His eyes rolled Heavenward, but he said in an even tone, "Yes, I have always been fond of children, so now indeed my life is complete. Please allow me to introduce my ward. Lady Pemberton, Miss Arabella Neville. Peter Davison's step-sister, don't you know."
Lady Pemberton, a well-preserved woman in her late forties with pale brown hair, if anything looked even more thunderstruck. "Ward, you say. Why-"
"Peter has been sent to India, Lady Pemberton," she supplied quickly, "so Dr. Sanderson here has been kind enough to undertake the completion of my education and upbringing."
"Very noble, I'm sure," she said, flabbergasted. Did the man not have eyes in his head?
"Have you a suitable chaperone for her? Not-"
Lady Radcliffe cut off her own sentence as her eyes flew even wider. Surely he would not use this young girl as an excuse to move in that doxy-
"Yes, Mrs. Evans, my near neighbour, has kindly agreed to undertake the role of duenna."
Lady Radcliffe's ample bosom, clad in navy blue silk, deflated with relief. "Well then, all I can say is welcome to you both, best wishes, and I hope you have an enjoyable evening."
"Thank you. I am sure we shall. Happy New Year." He bowed. "And now, as promised, I shall go see about the wine for you."
"Thank you, my boy. Come this way then, dear. I'll introduce you to my nephew-"
"That is kind of you, but I think I ought to help my guardian," Arabella said quickly, bestowing upon the older woman such a gracious smile that she could not possbily be annoyed.
With a polite curtsey, she took the hand Blake raised up to waist level and swept into the drawing room where the refreshments were being arranged.
Lady Pemberton stared after them. Guardian and ward indeed. They were the most handsome couple she had ever seen. Why, even their ensembles matched. Could he possibly-
But he had told her himself that she was his ward, and the girl had concurred in the tale, one which could easily be verified.
And she really had no reason to mistrust Dr. Sanderson's word upon the matter. He was a most upright young man, for all he had wasted time with that trull Leonore Ross, and devoted his time to fallen women in the East End of London.
His ward? Stranger things had happened. It was still going to be the talk of the Town in no time. Especially since she was so incredibly lovely.
Lady Pemberton decided that no matter how fond she was of Matthew and Randall, she would not allow the men to give Blake any unease in her own home.
So she went to speak to her nephew to engage him for the first dance with a particular friend of hers. She knew that once he spotted Arabella, there would be no stopping him.
She also circumvented Randall Avenel in a similar manner. It was the least she could do given the circumstances. The girl looked as green as ivy in May. It would not do to allow worldly men like them to get hold of her.
Blake would be led a merry dance trying to protect the child's virtue as it was. However vigilant he might be as a guardian, he could not possibly be everywhere at once. He would need more eyes than Argus to keep a eye on someone as lovely as Arabella.
But the girl seemed content to remain with him, and for the most part was rather shy and reserved. Oh, this was just too good to be true. Blake in charge of that little blossom? One thing was for sure, the ball would certainly not be dull now. She couldn't wait to spread the news.
Arabella listened attentively to all Blake told her about the wine, and was amused when he actually offered to teach her how to taste it. She laughed merrily as he told her the nose was almost everything, and got her to sniff the bouquet.
"Now, what you want to do is get some of the wine around your mouth an
d the back of the throat. So you are going to pucker up your lips in an English kiss. No, an English kiss, not a French one. Then you are going to well, slurp delicately."
She quirk one finely arched brow at him. "That is surely a contradiction in terms," she said with a giggle. "And what do you mean by a French kiss?"
He blushed. "Er, never mind."
"No, go on."
"What we shared in the inn," he murmured.
She laughed even harder. "Ah, yes, the French certainly do have all the fun. The best wines, food, fashion, and kisses. And the French pox, of course. No doubt as a result of all the fun, food and fashion."
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 73
