by Eva Shepherd
With that riddle still unsolved he headed back to the party. As the joyous crowd surrounded him, he could not get the conundrum of Arabella van Haven out of his mind. But the mystery would have to remain unsolved. They would not be marrying. He would make sure of that. He most certainly had no interest in marriage to anyone. She had no interest in marriage to him. So, he would make sure he found a way to halt this wedding.
Her father had said leave it till the wedding night and it was most definitely a shame that there would be no wedding night. But it could not be. He was not so much of a cad that he would subject such a lovely woman to the horror of being married to him just because he wanted to fully sample all that her passionate nature and beautiful body had to offer.
He looked over to where Arabella was talking to a group of excited actors, a fake smile once again on her lips, those plump red lips that had just moments ago been pressed up hard against his.
He sighed deeply. It was most certainly a shame that he would not get to experience the pleasure of their wedding night. And, of course, he would never take a woman like Arabella as his mistress. It was extremely tempting, but it was out of the question. He might not have much of a code when it came to women, but one rule he did abide by was that no one got hurt. And Arabella was a woman who could so easily get hurt.
He took a glass of champagne offered to him by a footman. As there would be no wedding, and hence no wedding night, the only thing left for him to do was to try to enjoy his own engagement party.
Chapter Eight
‘What do you mean, you sold the business?’
‘Exactly that. I’ve sold the lot. The entire building, which includes the theatre, the props and costumes, along with rights to the plays. Everything. I was made an offer I couldn’t possibly refuse.’
Oliver glared down at the theatre owner seated behind his messy desk. The former owner of the Limelight Theatre. ‘And dare I ask who bought it?’ It was a question to which Oliver already knew the answer.
‘Mr van Haven bought it.’ The owner leaned back in his squeaking chair, put his hands behind his head and smiled. ‘He offered me a ridiculous amount of money. He’s closed the theatre for renovations, laid off the staff on full pay and pouring money into the place as if it’s a bottomless pit. I must say I was a bit taken aback. I would have thought a man like Mr van Haven would have more financial sense than to spend such money on a third-rate theatre like this.’ He waved his arms in the air as if to encompass the entire Limelight Theatre, the shabby office, the rundown auditorium and the severely neglected backstage area. ‘But there you go. He can’t be as clever or as good a businessman as people say he is. It looks as though when it comes to the theatre, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but I made a tidy profit, which is all that really matters.’
Oliver shook his head in dismay. The theatre owner was wrong. Mr van Haven knew exactly what he was doing. He had spent that money to make sure his daughter was compliant with his plans to marry her off to a man with a title. To Mr van Haven it would be money well spent. Once again, the older man had outsmarted them and thwarted Oliver’s plan.
‘Well, at least his daughter will be happy that the theatre is doing well out of her father’s money.’ Oliver was desperate to see the bright side of this dismal situation. It had to be some consolation that the theatre would now be a success. He had to have some good news to take back to Arabella. Perhaps telling her that the theatre was to be greatly improved by her father might be the small silver lining to an otherwise very black cloud.
‘His daughter? Why?’ the former owner said, standing up and placing a wooden crate on his desk so he could pack up his belongings.
‘Arabella van Haven. She’s an actress here at the theatre.’
‘She used to be.’
Oliver grabbed the man’s arms and pulled him across the desk, halting his packing. ‘What are you saying? What do you mean, used to be?’
The former owner stared back at him with wide eyes, a pile of old theatre programmes dropping from his hands. ‘Just that—she used to be an actress here. Apparently, her father told the director to find someone to replace her. He said he didn’t want to see Arabella van Haven’s name on the bill ever again.’
Oliver froze, his face still inches from the other man’s, then sunk down into a chair. With his head in his hands he released a growl of frustration. This was getting worse and worse. Not only would he have to tell Arabella that his plan to pay the theatre so he could stop their marriage had failed, but she was now also out of a job. She would be crushed. All her dreams would be shattered. This could not happen. He had to think of something to stop this ridiculous marriage and save Arabella’s job. But what? That was a question to which Oliver had no answer.
* * *
He had agreed to meet Arabella at Hyde Park to tell her the good news. When he had set off to the theatre this morning, he had been full of confidence, certain that he would make everything right. All he had to do was offer the owner a better deal, give him more money than Mr van Haven. He had even considered buying the theatre himself. Then it would be safe. All Arabella’s colleagues would keep their jobs and Arabella would be saved from the terrible fate of having to marry him.
Instead, the only bit of good news he could give her was the theatre was indeed saved and everyone’s job was safe. Everyone’s, that is, except hers.
As he walked towards their agreed meeting place by the Serpentine, he felt like a man going to his execution. And not just because he was now committed to marrying in less than a month’s time, but because he was going to have to disappoint Arabella on two counts. Her father could still hold the threat of destroying the theatre over her head and her dream of becoming an actress was now in tatters.
She was sitting on a bench staring out over the lake, looking as enchanting as she did on that first night when they met. Dressed in a blue-striped dress, with a jaunty straw hat sporting a blue ribbon on her ornately styled black hair and protecting herself from the warm sunshine with a cream-coloured lacy parasol, she was as pretty as a picture.
He paused to watch her and enjoy the sight before he had to destroy any sense of hope she might be feeling. She was staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes, not taking in the small boy in front of her, floating his ornate toy sailing ship on the placid water, or the little girl jumping around with an excited pug dog.
Oliver inhaled deeply to give himself courage and strode towards her in a manner more confident than he felt. The young lady’s maid chaperoning her stood up as he approached and, as if by arrangement, she wandered off to give them some privacy.
Arabella looked up and sent him an expectant smile, then registered his stern look and her smile faded. ‘It’s bad news, isn’t it? What has he done now?’ Her shaking hands folded up the parasol and she gripped the wooden handle tightly.
He sat down beside her, his heart in his mouth. ‘Your father has bought the theatre,’ he stated bluntly, not knowing any way to soften the blow.
She released an annoyed sigh. ‘I should have known he’d do something like that. He’s got a reputation for anticipating what his business rivals will do and I guess that’s what we are now, his business rivals.’
They both looked out at the lake and Oliver steeled himself to impart the next bit of bad news. ‘I’m afraid that’s not all he’s done.’
Her body tensed beside him and he heard a sharp intake of breath. ‘What else could he do? He’s got everything he wants now.’
‘I’m afraid he’s told the director that you can’t work at the theatre any more.’
He had expected an immediate response: tears, foot stamping, angry words. But she continued to stare out at the lake, her body rigid as she silently seethed. ‘Now he has gone too far,’ she eventually said, through clenched teeth. ‘He’s already won, so why does he have to punish me even further?’
Pain gripped Oliver in th
e middle of his chest. Somehow, this all felt like his fault. Perhaps if he hadn’t crashed into her room that night, if he hadn’t taken her in his arms and kissed her, none of this might have happened. In some ways it was indeed his fault. And it was up to him to make it right. ‘Please, Arabella, don’t upset yourself. He might have stopped you acting at the Limelight, but he can’t stop you acting altogether. You got the job there without him knowing, you can use your wits to find another job somewhere else. There are other theatres in London. He can’t buy them all. It will be all right. I’ll make sure it is.’
He didn’t know how he would do that, but he would try. He couldn’t bear to see her so unhappy, couldn’t bear to see her dreams shattered.
‘You’re very kind, but this is not your problem.’ She turned to face him and he could see unshed tears in her eyes. ‘I’ve said it before and I still mean it. You don’t have to marry me. You don’t have to get caught up in my father’s scheming. He said he’d sue you for breach of promise, but he’d never do that, because the scandal might ruin his chances of marrying me off to someone else.’
Oliver shrugged. She was wrong. He didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t go through with this marriage, he would leave Arabella in a worse position than she already was. If they didn’t marry, her father would withdraw all his funds from the theatre and it would be forced to close. And it was obvious that would not stop her father. He would eventually find some other titled man for her to marry and it might be one who did not respect and admire her the way Oliver was coming to, more and more.
‘I’ve said I’d go through with it and, even though I’ve got too many faults to list, I’m always true to my word. Unless we can think of something your father hasn’t already anticipated within the next four weeks, it looks as though we’re about to become newlyweds.’
She gave a resigned shrug of her slim shoulders and sighed loudly. ‘Thank you. It’s very kind of you to go to all this trouble.’
Oliver swallowed a sudden ironic laugh. Many women had pursued him over the years, desperate to become the next Duchess of Somerfeld. They had all chosen to ignore the fact that they would be marrying a man incapable of committing to one woman. All they could see was a title, nothing else. He had dodged a bullet many times, saving himself and many a young woman from that terrible fate. Now he was to marry someone who mistakenly thought he was a kind man, that he was kind because he was trying his best to save her from such a marriage. He could almost see the funny side of the situation. Almost.
‘Hopefully it won’t come to that,’ he said. ‘We’ve still got a month to think of a way out of this situation.’
She shrugged again and slowly shook her head. ‘I’ve never known anyone to get the better of my father and he’s been up against equally ruthless businessmen, ambitious politicians and bankers who are just as much in love with money as him, and he’s thwarted them all. I don’t think we stand much of a chance.’
They sighed simultaneously and looked out at the lake.
‘I suppose being married to one another won’t be that bad.’ Oliver gave her an apologetic smile.
‘No, I suppose there are worse things that happen to people. And I guess it could be much worse. He could be marrying me off to someone like Lord Bufford.’
He shuddered at the thought of Arabella married to a man like that and took heart from the fact that she considered him a better catch than a sixty-year-old man with a deeply florid complexion, bushy grey eyebrows, an overly waxed walrus moustache, a bulbous nose and a decidedly aggressive and irritating disposition.
Yet Violet Bufford had been more than happy to marry him. She, and her family had ignored Lord Bufford’s flaws because it meant moving up the social hierarchy. But Arabella was not like that. She did not want to marry a title. Instead one was being thrust upon her.
‘But I promise you, once we’re married, we can part company,’ he said, in his most reassuring voice. ‘I’ll make no further demands on you.’
Her smile was sad and suggested she didn’t believe him. And why should she believe him? After all, all she really knew of him was that he was the sort of man who crashed into strange women’s dressing rooms, grabbed them and kissed them. A man who had to run from irate husbands. A man with a scandalous reputation.
‘And if nothing else, you will at least be safe from your father, Arabella.’ He couldn’t offer her much, but at least he could offer her that. ‘After all, you’ll be my wife. You’ll be under my care, not your father’s. He won’t be able to stop you from doing anything, ever again. And I promise you your freedom.’
Arabella breathed in deeply, then exhaled slowly. ‘It is so unfair,’ she said, emphasising every word. ‘I always have to be under someone’s care, my father, my husband and, under normal circumstances, it would eventually be my son, just the way your mother is under your authority. It’s simply not fair.’
Oliver shrugged. ‘I can’t agree more. And often women are under the authority of men less competent than themselves, but that, unfortunately, is the way of the world.’
‘But it shouldn’t be.’
‘No, it shouldn’t be.’
Once again Oliver felt as if that, too, was his fault. But he hadn’t made the world the way it was. All he could do was ensure that one woman, Arabella, his future wife, was free to live her life the way she wanted to, without the interference of any man, including her husband.
‘And it’s not fair to you either. You should be allowed to marry whomever you want, not be manipulated into marriage by my father.’ She bit the edge of her lip. ‘Is there anyone you really do want to marry?’
Oliver shook his head and smiled. ‘No, there never has been and there never will be.’
She turned slightly on the bench and looked at him, her head tilted in question. ‘But you’re a duke. Don’t all dukes have to marry, whether they want to or not, so they can produce the heir and the spare and keep the line going?’
Oliver laughed at her misplaced concern. ‘I suppose the ones who care about such things do, but there’s other members of my family who’ll more than happily take up the title of Duke when I kick the bucket. And I think the world would be a better place if I didn’t procreate.’
His smile died and he turned to face her. ‘But what about you, Arabella? Don’t you want children?’ He held his breath while he waited for her answer. No matter what her response was, it was an added complication and one he hadn’t considered.
Her gaze dropped and she stared at her hands, clenched tightly on her lap. ‘I don’t want to think about that now,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper. ‘We’ve only four weeks to think of a way out of this, that’s what we should be concentrating on.’
* * *
Four weeks. That’s all they had to think their way out of this impossible situation. Arabella looked back out over the calm water of the Serpentine and contemplated how they were going to achieve the impossible.
‘So, do you have any more thoughts on what we can do to stop this marriage?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Arabella, I’m out of ideas at the present.’
Then it truly looked as though her father was going to win. Didn’t he always?
The one time she had thought she had won a victory over her father was when she had insisted that he allow Rosie to live with them after Rosie’s mother died. At the time Arabella had thrown a temper tantrum, had threatened to run away, until her father relented. She had thought she had won a victory. Now she suspected her father had merely decided that it would be to his advantage to make Rosie his ward. It gave Arabella a friend, someone to play with and entertain her when he was away from home pursuing his latest business venture. So, to some extent Rosie had become just another possession that he had given to his daughter. It had not been her victory. If her father hadn’t seen all the advantages of having a ward, he would have made Rosie leave, despite the de
vastation it would have caused to an innocent young girl.
And Arabella was no different. She, too, was just a possession.
It was a terrible thing to think, but that was all she had ever been to her father. And now she was going to have to repay him for all the money he had spent on her over the years by giving him what he wanted, an entry to the British aristocracy. He didn’t care who she married, whether the man loved her or not was of no concern, whether he was a scoundrel or a good man did not matter, as long as he had a title.
Was it even worth fighting a man who always won? ‘Perhaps we should just go through with it,’ she said, her voice resigned. ‘After all, it won’t be a real marriage. I wouldn’t interfere with the way you live your life. My father will get his victory and we’ll both be free to do as we please.’
It was most definitely not what Arabella wanted. She had no immediate plans for marriage, but when it happened, she had expected to be married to a man she loved, a kindred spirit who wanted to pursue the same dreams as herself. But then, wasn’t that what she thought Arnold Emerson was? And hadn’t she been wrong about him? Hadn’t she completely misjudged the man she’d once thought she loved?
His love had been as phoney as her marriage would be. But with Oliver at least there would be no pretence. He didn’t love her and he had no intention of pretending he did. And it could be much worse. She could be marrying someone who did not respect her work as an actress and would forbid her from continuing her life on the stage.
