Perfect 2 - A Perfect Groom

by Samantha James

  There was, thank heaven, no sign of him. All in all, the evening passed rather pleasantly. At last, breathless from excitement, she started toward the side of the room where refreshments were being served.

  “Arabella!”

  Near the threshold, she turned. Walter Churchill was coming toward her.

  “Walter, hello! I didn’t know you were here.” She almost hated herself for the way her heart sank. Truth be told, she’d been almost relieved that there had been no sign of him…or Justin Sterling, for that matter.

  She liked Walter. She truly did. As for Justin, she told herself stoutly, he wasn’t worth even a second thought.

  “I’ve only just arrived,” Walter said. “Arabella, please, I crave a word with you.” He indicated a small room just off the ballroom. Arabella hesitated, then reluctantly followed him.

  There was a small sofa just inside the doorway. It was there he led her, gesturing for her to sit. There was an expression of utmost earnestness in his brown eyes as he sat beside her, near but not touching her.

  “Arabella, please, tell me you’re not in love with him!”

  Arabella blinked. His outburst wasn’t what she’d expected.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I saw you together last night. I saw you with him!”

  Arabella inhaled. “You mean Justin Sterling?”

  “Yes. You know what he is, don’t you? A rake-hell. A black-hearted scoundrel. Why, he’s kept half a dozen mistresses at once. Arabella —” Walter gazed at her pleadingly. “He’ll break your heart, if you let him.”

  Arabella couldn’t help it. She laughed. Dear God — Georgiana and now Walter, too!

  “Set your mind at ease, Walter. Believe me, I am impervious. I should never be taken in by the likes of such a man.”

  “I cannot tell you how pleased I am to hear it.” Lightly he touched her hand. “Arabella, I adore you. I worship you —”

  “Walter, please.” She knew what was coming. She just knew it…

  “Marry me, Arabella. Marry me. For I swear, you’ll break my heart if you don’t.”

  Arabella sighed. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry. “Walter. Walter, please, say no more!”

  His expression rent her in two. Oh, God, she thought half-hysterically, but she should have had the speech down pat by now.

  She didn’t. She was babbling, doing her best to ease his pain. “Walter, try to understand. I am very fond of you. Truly I am.” She was fond of him, and they got along favorably, if not famously…but she knew she could never be amorously inclined toward him. And that was the crux of it. If and when she ever married, she wanted passion and excitement and…and she would never find those things with Walter. Yet how could she say that without hurting his feelings?

  “You are a kind, sweet man,” she continued, “and I am honored that you would think of me in such a way. Indeed, I foresee that someday you’ll make some woman a fine husband.” She paused, hoping it would be enough, praying it would!

  Walter’s mouth opened, then closed. “Arabella,” he said quaveringly, “what are you trying to say? I have feelings for you. And I thought you had feelings for me —”

  “But not those kinds of feelings. Walter, listen to me. I cannot be your wife.”

  God help her, he appeared ready to weep. Arabella’s heart went out to him. She was the sort who wore her emotions for all to see, and it cut her to the quick to think that she was hurting him so.

  “Walter, please understand how difficult this is for me. But I made a vow to myself a long time ago, a vow that when I marry it will only be for love.”

  He gulped. “You don’t love me?”

  “I’m afraid not,” she said gently. “In time, I think you’ll realize you don’t love me, either.”

  The silence was horrid. He stared at her, his expression utterly hangdog.

  “Walter, I’m so sorry,” she said lamely, “but it’s for the best. Truly it is.” Slipping a hand beneath his elbow, she rose and started toward the door, which had been left ajar.

  At the threshold, he stopped and looked at her.

  Arabella winced. “I can summon your carriage if you like.”

  He shook his head. “There’s no need.” At last he turned and walked back into the ballroom, his shoulders slumped as if they held the weight of the world.

  Rather anxiously, Arabella watched as he crossed the room and spoke to the footman near the stairs. Good. He wouldn’t make a scene. She hadn’t thought he would, but still, she was relieved. She rather doubted Walter would let it be known he’d asked for her hand, only to be rejected, which suited her perfectly. Why, if word of still another proposal got out, she was very much afraid the ton would never stop talking about her.

  Smoothing the yellow muslin of her gown, she gathered herself in hand and prepared to rejoin the gala.

  It was then she heard it…almost directly behind her.

  Someone was clapping.

  She froze. The skin on the back of her neck prickled in warning. She knew, even before she turned, who stood behind her.

  * * *

  “Yet another discarded suitor,” Justin observed. “I should imagine they’ll soon be able to form their own club.”

  Arabella made no reply. He’d startled her, he realized.

  “It was good of you to let him down gently,” he mused. “I wonder, were the others so fortunate?”

  Her silence didn’t last for long — not that he expected it would. “You were lurking behind the door, weren’t you?” she accused. “Spying on me.”

  “I was not. I was with Lord Bennington in his study. He offered me a brandy he’d just acquired, which I confess quite hit the spot. But a word of advice, Arabella. If you wish to carry on a conversation in private, it’s usually best to close the door.”

  “I’ve not granted you leave to use my given name.” The primness of her tone was at complete odds with the fiery blue sizzle of her eyes. “You should have let your presence be known.”

  “Pray tell, what would have been a good time? In between ‘I adore you’ and ‘I worship you’?”

  If anything, the heat in her eyes flared hotter. Indeed, Justin decided, she was being remarkably restrained. Where was the explosion he’d expected?

  He continued. “Obviously, though, he is not aware of our previous association or he wouldn’t have thought you were in love with me.”

  Levelly she regarded him. “You wretch,” she said evenly.

  “Oh, but I do believe it’s I who should be offended. You did not speak highly of me. However, I am compelled to inform you — that bit about half a dozen mistresses is greatly exaggerated.” He shrugged. “Not that I wouldn’t have liked to, I admit. But funds precluded it, I fear.”

  Her chin came up. “You have no decency whatsoever, do you? What kind of man would say such a thing to a lady?”

  Justin knew full well she had a temper to match the fire of her hair. It occurred to him he was baiting her — and enjoying it immensely.

  “Come, now, Arabella. You gave an admirable performance of a concerned, compassionate woman. I must commend you. Why, you should have been on the stage.”

  His efforts began to see fruition. She was growing agitated.

  “Do you think I enjoyed that?” she flared.

  “Didn’t you?”

  Her chin came up. “I am not like you,” she stated coolly. “I am sensitive to his feelings.”

  “Then why don’t you marry him?” He didn’t give her the chance to answer. “Ah, yes. Because you intend to marry only for love.”

  She sent him an arch look. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  Justin shrugged.

  “I’ve heard it said that your brother married for love,” she reminded him.

  “But he didn’t intend to. He set out in search of a bride who would fit his requisites for a wife. He was simply lucky enough to find love in the process.” Again he gave her no chance to respond. “But we stray from the subject.
What I find difficult to believe is that you are capable of that tender emotion.”

  Her lips clamped shut. She was practically spitting, just itching to launch into a tirade.

  Admittedly, he found the prospect rather intriguing.

  He tipped his head to the side. “What are you thinking, Arabella?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Believe me,” she stated with forced politeness, “you do not wish to know.”

  “And if I said I did?”

  “Grass before dawn,” she said between her teeth. “Does that give you a hint?”

  “A duel,” he drawled. “How delicious. Oh, but I should have known you’d be contemplating ways to attack.”

  And indeed, he decided with wry amusement, her glare left him in no doubt she was contemplating the possibility. If she were a predator, he’d be gnawed to the bone.

  “Forgive me, but did you not just claim to be a tenderhearted woman? My, but you certainly pulled the wool over Walter’s eyes, didn’t you?”

  “My God,” she gritted out, “if I had a pistol, I do believe I would shoot you on the spot!”

  “Ah. Clearly my charm is utterly lost on you.”

  “You have no charm.”

  “Arabella!” He affected shock. “What a thing to say to a gentleman!”

  “You, sir, are no gentleman!”

  Ye gads, but she was a hoyden! As impetuous and strong-willed as ever, he suspected. And yet their encounter last night and tonight provided him the most entertainment he’d enjoyed in quite some time. He was enjoying her wit and their sparring — never mind that foolish, careless bet with Gideon. In the back of his mind, he made note to mention it the next time he saw him…

  It was odd, but he felt suddenly buoyant. Alive as he hadn’t in longer than he could remember.

  “It’s a good thing you declined poor Walter,” he said smoothly. “It’s clear he’s simply not up to the rapier slice of your tongue. But I promise, you’ll find me a worthy opponent.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What the devil is that supposed to mean? And why are you smiling in that wolfish way, as if there’s something you know that I don’t?”

  She was nothing if not forthright, he decided. “I don’t know. Certainly it can’t be the company.”

  “I shall ignore that,” she announced. “Now, then. I should like to discuss the matter of your spying on me —”

  “I was not spying. I thought we established that.”

  “We did not. But may I trust you will not disclose the nature of what you overheard?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I abhor gossip, that’s why.”

  He arched his brows. “You mean you don’t relish your reign as The Unattainable?”

  “I do not,” she muttered. “And if anyone else calls me by that horrid name again today, I swear I shall scream.”

  His mouth quirked. “That should help to discourage gossip.”

  Her eyes found his. “Do I have your assurance you will say nothing?” she demanded.

  “Well,” he murmured, “I might be persuaded.”

  “For what?”

  A kiss, he almost said. Indeed, it was only at the last instant he quelled the unexpected impulse.

  He was all at once vastly annoyed with himself. A kiss with Miss Arabella Templeton…how the blazes had his mind conjured up something so preposterous?

  It was a startling admission, considering she was the most vexing female he’d ever had the misfortune to encounter. Yet on second thought, perhaps it was neither startling nor preposterous.

  His gaze had drifted down to her lips. She had a mouth given to laughter, he decided. A mouth fashioned purely for a man’s pleasure, full and lush and pink like the rest of her. He’d already mentally approved her choice of gown — the buttery yellow made her skin glow.

  He found the prospect of kissing her — God, what was the matter with him? — provocative, at the least. In her zeal, she’d moved closer. That wasn’t helping matters. Nor did the earnestness of her regard. She was staring up at him intently, awaiting his answer, her lips parted, offering a glimpse of small white teeth. Christ, he wondered crazily, what would she taste like?

  “You haven’t answered me. You won’t tell, will you?”

  Wicked. That’s what he was. Wicked to even think what he was thinking…

  The music had commenced. Hearing it, he cocked a brow. “Dance with me,” was all he said, “and I shall consider it.”

  And he whisked her onto the dance floor.

  Five

  They wheeled so suddenly she clutched at his shoulder. “Justin!” His name was a sound of pure dismay. Belatedly it occurred to her she’d just called him by his given name. “What are you doing?”

  “I should have thought it would be obvious.”

  They whirled past the Misses Wilmington, Abigail and Lucinda, who regarded him with open admiration. Justin inclined his head and directed a devastating smile at the pair. Abigail tittered behind her fan, while Lucinda openly batted her eyelashes at him.

  Arabella’s jaw snapped shut. “Did no one ever tell you it is the height of bad manners to dance with one woman while making eyes at another?”

  “Jealous, are we?”

  “In a pig’s eye!”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Arabella, you are truly a delight.”

  He didn’t mean it, of course. Indeed, she was well aware he meant the complete opposite.

  “I’ve not forgiven you, you know,” she told him stoutly.

  “For what?”

  She bared her teeth.

  A heavy black brow climbed high. “My dear, is something wrong? Do you worry there is perhaps a bit of basil left from the cream sauce at dinner? Set your mind at ease, then. There is none.”

  Arabella longed to screech at the top of her lungs. She was forced to settle for a whisper. “This is revenge, isn’t it? Your way of getting back at me for the prank I played on you as a child.”

  “My word, but you are suspicious! Why would you possibly think that?”

  “Because I should have thought you would avoid me like the plague.”

  “Why would I avoid you? That would imply I am afraid of you.”

  “And you, of course, fear nothing, least of all a mere woman.”

  Their eyes caught. Within his, glimmered a spark of something…something she couldn’t quite decipher. She knew only that whatever it was, she didn’t trust it.

  “Must you stare at me?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said smoothly. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just that I never before noticed your freckles.”

  No doubt he was comparing her to the elegant sophisticates with whom he usually associated. But Arabella had never hated her freckles more than she did at that moment. When she was a child, she’d scrubbed until her skin was raw. When she was older, she’d prodigiously applied Gowland’s Lotion each and every night. Nothing had worked.

  Her gaze was the first to slide away. She lapsed into silence. Lord, but this was awkward. She didn’t like dancing. More aptly, she didn’t like dancing with him. He was far too devilishly attractive, for one thing. It galled her to admit that she couldn’t nor be conscious of him. My God, that was a feat no sane woman could accomplish. And she was acutely aware of the weight of his hand on her waist. She felt as if she burned clear to the skin. And his other hand, wrapped around hers, large and brown and strong…Something wholly unfamiliar stabbed at her insides.

  He whirled her again. Arabella stumbled, forced to grab at him for support.

  “Justin, stop that!” she hissed. Her legs felt like stilts. Her face was flaming, she was certain.

  “My dear, how else are we to dance?”

  “You’re holding me much too tightly!”

  “Am I?”

  It was a mild inquiry, but hardly a mild look. What was it he’d said last night? I’ve been known to eat up tender little girls like you.

  Arabella was heartily annoyed with herself. She sounded as if she’
d been running. In truth her shortness of breath wasn’t due to the tightening of his arm around her waist. No, it had far more to do with the proximity of his lips, which hovered so near she could feel the warm rush of his breath across her temple. And his height…confound it, he managed to make her feel dainty and delicate, no small feat. And…oh, how she liked it! God above, but she did!

  But this was Justin Sterling. Rake of all rakes. Cad among cads.

  Confused by her reaction, disturbed by his nearness, she rallied her defenses, straightened her spine…and accidentally stepped on his foot in the process.

  He grunted. “I’d heard that dancing was not one of your accomplishments. But you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

  “I did not,” she denied with a flare of resentment.

  The clasp of his hand around hers tightened.

  “Justin! For pity’s sake —”

  “Do you know, that is the third time you’ve uttered my name in as many minutes? I do believe my status is growing in your eyes.”

  “I wasn’t counting,” she said from between her teeth. “Now loosen your grip, if you please.”

  He was undaunted. “The waltz is not yet over.”

  “Justin —”

  “Four,” he intoned softly.

  Arabella’s head came up so suddenly she nearly clipped his chin. She shot him a look that would have withered many a man in his shoes. Alas, not him! He continued to regard her with the merest hint of a smile on his lips.

  “Now, see here.” She did her best to sound severe. “I do not want to cause a scandal. And surely you don’t, either—”

  He laughed outright.

  Her eyes were snapping. “Why do you find that so amusing?”

  “Because it is amusing. Scandal? My dear, you’ve spent too much time away from the country with your parents. The Sterling family name is synonymous with scandal. Hadn’t you heard?”

  “I thought it was only your name that was,” she stated daringly.

  “If you seek to wound me, Arabella, you’ll have to do better than that.”

  Faith, but he had an answer for everything! She decided her best defense was silence. He spun. Arabella stumbled, and only narrowly avoided crashing into a large vase at the side of the floor.