"Yes, fine. Thank you for the timely intervention, both of you."
Philip appeared visibly relieved. "He seems harmless, but he's not someone you want to be left alone with. Take my word for it."
"Thank you," Blake said. "We'll both keep that in mind."
They heard a tiny tinkling sound and Philip started and dug into his fob pocket. "It's nearly midnight. I set my watch forward a bit to give me warning. Come have some champagne."
He gave them each a charged glass, and raised it. "To the New Year, and new beginnings."
Blake and Arabella echoed his toast. They clinked glasses, and then the churchbells all over London began to ring.
Philip said, "Well, Blake, if you won't kiss her for auld lang syne, I will." He took her hand and kissed it.
"I shall of course," Blake said warmly. "One for me, one for your brother," he said, saluting her hand twice, "and one each for Christmas, for I was most remiss in keeping my promise to your brother that I would kiss you for the holidays."
Philip then bowed and kissed her hand again. "And now, I shall say good night. Your friend is looking daggers in this direction and will be descending upon us like a fury in a moment. So nice to see you both. Don't worry, I shall see that she leaves safely."
Leonore, her color high, was making a beeline for Blake when Philip bowed and offered her his arm. She looked surprised, but smiled, and after a few moments' conversation, they left.
Both noticed that instead of going to the left back into the ballroom, they headed right toward the cloakrooms and the front door.
"Well, what do you suppose all that was about?" Arabella asked in wonder.
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he said, "I won't lie to you. Leonore is, well, was my er, friend whom I told you about. We had words, I'm afraid, and she was quite angry. I'm very grateful to Philip for taking her home."
"I see. Thank you for confiding in me," she said quietly, trying to subdue the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew she had no right to be angry. The woman and Blake went back many years. Auld lang syne.
"I'm just glad I got to you in time, before Roger…"
"That was Philip again," she guessed.
Blake nodded. "Yes. He's a smart chap in many ways."
"I don't think he's such a rake," she observed, before draining her glass of champagne to fortify herself.
"As we have discovered to our cost, one cannot always believe everything one hears, one way or the other."
They both blushed and looked away for a moment.
Arabella said after a time, "It's past midnight now. I think we have done our duty. Would you care to go home?"
"Indeed I would. It's been pleasant dancing with you and seeing some old friends, some, not all," he hastened to add, "but I think we have both had enough excitement for the evening."
"Yes, certainly," Arabella agreed readily.
Several men now began to flock in looking for Arabella.
Blake took her arm before she changed her mind. He fetched her pelisse and his evening cloak. They found their carriage outside and he helped her in, his hand warm on her arm and back as he seated her safely. They travelled home in the coach in relative silence, Blake asking only as they neared the house, "How did you enjoy your triumph?"
"Did you think that was one?" she asked in surprise.
"Oh, undoubtedly. You will have all of London abuzz with tales of your beauty and wit. Mark my words, the invitations will be coming in thick and fast as snow in winter. Mrs. Evans your new chaperone will have her work cut out for her."
"What of you?"
He cleared his throat. "What do you mean?"
"You've had a couple of conquests tonight yourself."
His brows drew downwards. "You must think to make a mockery of me."
"Not at all. I just wonder at the fact that Leonore was the only one almost making a scene." She stared at him levelly. "But what I really wonder at is a man as attractive and eligible as you not having been wed and starting a family of your own years ago."
"Well, I was engaged," he admitted with a sigh. "Rosalie Crane Stanton. You'll be hearing the name a great deal about Town these days. She's just been separated from the man she threw me over for less than week before we were to be wed."
"Oh my, I am sorry. I had no idea."
"No reason that you should. But I am telling you now so you will know what kind of man you have as your guardian."
"I think I already do, but go on, tellme. What did you do after she broke it off?"
He said tightly, "I was on my own and bitter for about two years, and worked like a demon. I threw myself into establishing my practice. The war started, and I was pretty much in the thick of it right the way through. I returned last spring when Napoleon abdicted. Leonore was the only constant in my life then, for good or ill.
"It was sort of reassuring to have someone who didn't make any demands upon me. Couldn't possibly think I would ever marry and have children with her. I have always been fearful of, well, consquences. That kept me in check all those years. No uncontrollable emotions, just a relationship between friends. I have to admit, my parents were not happily married."
When he remained silent for a time, she decided that was all he was going to say upon the subject. She thought it sensible not to press him for further details. Instead she nodded compassionately.
"I understand. My parents too. But then Father died, and Mother met Mr. Davison, and I got Peter for a brother. Then we were all happy for a time. Until Mother died, of course. Then Step-Papa."
"So now you're stuck with me."
"And you with me," she said coolly.
He gave another tight smile. "I cannot think of anyone more amenable to have as a ward. I'm sure we will manage admirably. No hard feelings about the past, Arabella?"
"Not hard ones, no. I would never think ill of you for what happened, since, after all, it was of both our own making. It was a silly blunder on both our parts for which I must take my fair share of the blame."
"Me too. As well as give you a formal promise that no similar blunder shall ever happen again," he said in a firm tone.
Arabella wished he would not say such a thing with quite such a degree of finality. After all, she had had a good look at Leonore. She had never been a great beauty in her life, she was sure of it, and middle age had certainly not improved her looks or her figure.
The carriage drew up in front of the house. Blake helped her down diffidently. He took her to the door, led her inside, and dismissing the butler, helped her off with her pelisse himself.
"Good night, my dear," he said in the hall. "Happy New Year."
"And to you. Good night, and thank you for letting me stay, Dr. Sanderson."
"Don't thank me yet. I might prove to be such an odious guardian that you will wish we'd never met."
She smiled. "Oh, you tease, sir. I'm sure I shall never have cause to say such a thing."
"I truly hope not, my dear."
"Nor you of me."
"Never," he said firmly.
"Good, then. I shall see you in the morning." She curtsied to him formally and swept up the stairs.
Only once she was gone did Blake feel he could breathe again. He expelled the pent-up air in a long whoosh, and striding down the hall, threw himself on the leather sofa in his sitting room.
This had easily been the most trying night of his life. And he was sure it was going to be just the first of many. He had wanted to murder every man who so much as looked at Arabella, let alone danced with her.
But Peter trusted him. He simply couldn't let his friend down. It was his own stupid fault. He should have paid attention a bit more.
Peter had been right about his head in a book comment. He had never thought the little child he recalled could have grown up, that she had kept her own last name, that Belle was a shortened form of her name which her family had always used affectionately.
But even had he known all that, who would eve
r have imagined they would have met on the road. Let alone that they would end up spending so much time with each other that they had stroked each other to passionate frenzy, nearly-
He sighed. His friend Jonathan Deveril the Rakehell would say fate was inexorable. He was not so sure. All he knew was it had dealt him a hand full of surprises, and tomorrow he would have to start playing the game of guardian over Arabella in earnest. For that he would need all his wits about him.
For never could the tender young eighteen-year-old be allowed to suspect that he lusted after her so badly that he had come back to London expressly to look for her, determined to make her his mistress. Nay, his wife.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Arabella rose long before the dawn, tired of tossing and turning in the bed. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Blake's handsome face smiling down at her. Sherecalled the wonderful sensation of being in his arms dancing the previous evening. She longed for his strong arms around her again, his wonderful hands and lips upon her hot flesh--
Nay, that way lay madness. She had to stop replaying in her mind what had happened between them at the inn.
She shook her head as if to clear it, lifted her embroidery hoop with a sigh and went downstairs even though it was early.
Blake came into the small breakfast room in a short time later and stared at her in surprise. "Good morning, my dear. Why have you risen so early after so late an evening? You ought to have stayed in bed."
"I thought we might make a start on some of our business together. You know. The terms of your guardianship. And I thought I might be of use to you, since you have been so kind to me."
"Of use? No, not at all. Don't be silly."
"Do you not need me for anything?" she asked, feeling a bit hurt that he was dismissing her so readily. He did not even look at her-it was as if too busy to bother with her for even an instant. But then, he had been away, and given her all of his time last night.
"It is New Year's Day. Most of the world is sleeping off the celebrations from the night before. For my own part, I must catch up on several things which I have neglected in my absence, including my correspondence, and a paper on fevers I have been trying to find a quiet time to finish. There will be plenty of opportunity to do business tomorrow, or on the third when Mr. Brown comes back."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Can I help with your paper?"
He smiled tightly, trying to keep his voice even. After all, she was only trying to help. She had no idea that every time he laid eyes on her he wanted to strip her naked and-
"For the moment, child, you go upstairs and rest. Settle into the house a bit more. Bring some of your things down here. You are not to be kept a prisoner in your chamber. Find some more books in the library to entertain and edify. Anything you need, simply ask a servant."
He went over to his desk, opened the drawer, and took out his strong box. "There is always cash in here for emergencies. I shall give you fifty pounds pin money every week to start with. Please let me know if you need more."
"That's more than generous. Thank you."
"I trust you. You needn't thank me. Your first lessons will be in how to earn money, save it, and spend it wisely."
She nodded as she took the notes and coins he had placed on the desk.
"You have the run of the house, of course. We can see about you keeping the keys for a time in order to learn how to run a household yourself. The only places which are off limits are my examination rooms and changing rooms downstairs, and of course my one private chamber at the top of the stairs.
"Likewise I shall never intrude upon your room unless you are expressly in need of me, if you are ill, for example. There is the small sitting room just by the front door, the little cream and gold one, which can be for your exclusive use. I shall not intrude upon you and your guests unless you invite me in.
"Appropriate decorum must be observed at all times, in this household and without. I shall be on the look out for what I would describe as extremes of taste in your dress or deportment."
"I understand. I believe my gowns are unobjectionable. And my conversation equally so."
"Indeed, neither has caused me alarm thus far. That is quite a modest and becoming gown, very much as I could wish," he said, nodding at the charcoal grey in approval.
"In most other matters of which we have spoken, we are in agreement. I shall try not to be too harsh a taskmaster."
"I'm sure you will be fair. If you are harsh, it will be no more than I deserve after the manner in which I have behaved."
He fixed her with his piercing hazel eyes. "Don't be too meek, my dear. I was an only child, and said to have been very willful."
She smiled at last, in amusement and relief. "Very well, I shall stand up to you on occasion. We would not want our lives together to be too dull." She turned to leave him.
Blake's heart nearly lurched into his mouth. Dull? He managed another small tight smile. "I have the feeling it's going to be anything but."
True to his word, Blake gave Arabella the morning off to settle herself in her new home.
Upon his orders, she received a full tour of the grand townhouse from the butler and housekeeper, whilst Blake familiarized himself with the papers which had been sent over from the solicitor's office regarding her wealth.
He was rather impressed. She had quite a diverse portfolio. They had done a good job looking after her interests. But with what Blake had learnt from his father, he could do even better for her.
There was also the matter of her chaperone to attend to. The sooner Mrs. Evans took up her duties and got Arabella off his hands for the days and evenings, the better, so far as he was concerned.
At one point he looked up from his papers in surprise. "Arabella. I didn't hear you come in. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"No, I'm just joining you by the fire while I do some mending."
He frowned. "Is the fire not adequate in your sitting room?"
"It's fine. I just thought- Well, you do not mean to shun me entirely, do you?"
"Not at all," he said quickly. "By all means sit there. Just don't expect me to be too chatty when I have this paper to finish."
"That's fine."
She had found the mending basket with the help of Betsey. She saw that his footwear needed darning, his shirts buttons replaced. It was ever the way with bachelors, she was sure. As lady of the household in the absence of any other, it would be her duty…
"I say, those aren't my stockings, are they?" he said with a blush.
"Um, yes."
"Really, there's no need. I don't usually bother. I mean, it is not as if I can't afford to buy more."
"In which case they can go to the poor, but they still need to be mended."
"It's very kind of you."
"Not at all."
He felt his cheeks burn. What was it about so simple a gesture of kindness that had him lusting for her all over again?
Blake tried hard to concentrate on his work. After the initial distraction, he found he got on better than he had done when he'd been struggling to get the lecture done in the room on his own.
Well, I don't have to wonder and worry about what she's up to when she's with me, he decided as finished the last sentence with a flourish.
"All done?"
"Yes."
"May I read it?"
"You would find it awfully dull, my dear."
She pouted slightly. "I shall never learn if I only read novels."
He nodded. "True. Let me just glance over it once more."
Blake read it through and made a few changes.
Arabella approached the desk timidly and he sat her down. She read a few sentences, then lifted her head.
"You see, I told you. Dull as ditchwater."
"No, not at all. Actually, I was going to ask you if you minded my correcting the spelling and punctuation. Or is it just that your handwriting is poor, or you were working on it in the carriage and got jounced up and down?"
She p
ointed to a couple of errors he had indeed missed.
"Just so, my dear, though I own that one there is my writing."
He soon pulled up a chair next to her and they spent a pleasant hour going over the rest of the lecture. She volunteered to make him a fair copy to take with him to the medical college on Thursday.
"Oh, no, really, you don't have to."
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 75
