Collector of Hearts

by Cassandra Samuels

  Her sister? Her sister! Dread seeped through every nerve ending in his body. No! It could not be. Arabella could not be related to this she-devil. She could not. It was inconceivable.

  ‘Catherine, this is Lord Shelton and his mother. He is courting Arabella.’ Arabella’s mother’s tone was delighted and warm. So at odds with the hostile energy surrounding them.

  ‘Is he?’ Catherine asked in an even tone, with a twitch on her lips. ‘Well, this is a surprise. You see, Lord Shelton and I are already acquainted. Oh, not in the way you think, dearest Arabella. We were friends... a long time ago. Were we not, Lord Shelton?’ Her eyes were cool silver, daring him to deny it.

  ‘Friends is not the word I would use to describe what we were, Lady Brogdan.’ His voice sounded odd, deep and not possessing his usual cool lightness. His anger rose, his disdain bubbling beneath the surface of his skin like a fever. His fingers itched to curl around her neck and squeeze.

  ‘Come, Shelton,’ she laughed. A tinkling sound that used to please him a lifetime ago. ‘You need not be coy about it.’

  ‘Why are you here Catherine?’

  ‘For the wedding, of course. Isabelle is my niece, after all.’ She looked around the group and flicked her fan up. ‘Oh la, let us not darken the spirit of the day. See how Arabella frowns? She is far too pretty to wear such an expression, don’t you agree?’

  He looked then to Arabella, whose features showed her confusion.

  ‘You know my Aunt Catherine?’

  ‘Yes.’ He hoped she understood everything this one word represented.

  Catherine’s eyes widened and for the first time showed some sign of alarm. ‘Oh, this is silly. I thought we had already established that we know each other. We should really make our way to the house. Isabelle will wonder where we are.’

  ‘You are right,’ Lady Tremaine agreed, a frown now firmly in place on her brow. ‘We should all hurry to the house.’

  Arabella didn’t move. ‘I think I need to know more about this friendship.’

  Turning towards Arabella, Robert took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles before saying, ‘You know my side. Ask Catherine hers and judge for yourself.’ With that he made a bow and, with his mother silent on his arm, he walked away. Away from the woman who had shattered his heart all those years ago and the other who wanted to mend it.

  ***

  Arabella couldn’t believe this was happening, not now, not on Isabelle’s special day. She had to keep this between her and Aunt Cat.

  ‘Excuse us, Mother. Aunt Catherine and I need to talk. Alone, if you please.’

  Her mother’s eyes widened and her hand went to her heart. ‘What is this all about? Catherine? You were not collected by him were you?’

  Catherine smiled. ‘No, sister. I knew him well before he was the Collector of Hearts. Don’t worry. It is nothing, a trifle. Arabella will see and then we will all be merry. You should go to Isabelle, she may need you.’

  ‘Are you both sure?’

  ‘Yes, Mother.’

  Her mother reluctantly turned and began walking towards the path to the house.

  Aunt Cat took her arm and they began walking. ‘Arabella dearest, it is so good to see you. So grown-up and Isabelle married. You must be so pleased.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Will they honeymoon on the continent, do you think?’

  ‘Aunt Cat, I need to know the truth about you and Robert.’

  ‘It was nothing. A little flirting, that is all.’

  ‘I know it was more than that. He was in love with you.’

  She looked stricken, like a cornered cat. ‘You have to understand, we were both very young.’

  Arabella nodded. ‘Go on.’

  ‘We thought we were in love, but Father would not allow it. I suppose Robert is still bitter about it, but it was not my fault.’ She looked around, eyeing the path. ‘We should not dally here too long.’

  ‘Were you engaged?’

  She hesitated. ‘He did propose.’

  ‘And you accepted?’

  ‘As I said, I had to get Father’s permission and he said no.’

  ‘But did you decide to stay secretly engaged to Robert? To keep him close despite your father’s refusal?’

  Catherine crossed her arms. ‘It was a mistake. I was young and naive and had no idea what I was doing.’

  ‘Yet you let Robert believe you were engaged. He had no idea your father had not given his permission, did he? In fact, you had not allowed him to seek permission.’

  ‘It’s not my fault if he did. I told him it was likely he would say no.’

  ‘Really, Aunt Cat? What about Lord Faulkner? Was it his fault too that he thought he was engaged to you?’

  Her aunt went pale. It was a telling expression and made Arabella want to slap her across the face. Catherine had not counted on Robert having been totally honest about his past. She thought she could bluff her, but information is power and Aunt Cat had no idea how much Arabella knew.

  ‘Did you ignore their pleas for you to reveal the truth about your plans? To whom you were actually engaged to?’

  ‘You silly girl. I was never officially engaged to either of them.’ Her tone had changed now, lower, more defensive. ‘They were fools, both of them.’

  Sadly, Arabella realised that she had found the truth of the tale. ‘They were fools for believing you cared for them? Did you know that your failure to inform them of that fact would result in a duel? One that would mean the death of one of these men you had purported to love?’

  Catherine turned towards the path again before saying, ‘How was I to know they would go through with it?’

  Arabella shook her head. ‘How could you? How could you be so cruel, so callous, so uncaring of their feelings for you? Do you know what you have done?’

  Her aunt snapped her fan open. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Arabella. You have him now. What do you want from me?’

  ‘I want you to own up to the truth and then I want you to apologise to Robert for all the harm you have caused. Confess your sins to him and ask for his forgiveness. He needs it and so do you.’

  ‘Why should I apologise? I did not kill Faulkner. I did not pull the trigger on Robert’s pistol, he did. You have no notion of the world. You live in your happy little bubble with no idea of what it is to be … married. Men are awful creatures, Arabella. You will see. Robert is a man who has proven his skills in both the bedroom and the duelling field. You think you can change him? Well, you can’t. A leopard does not change his spots, my dear. Believe me, I know. So marry him at your peril but don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ With that, Catherine picked up her skirts and strode towards the path as fast as her legs would carry her.

  Arabella felt sick. Robert had been right about her; she cared for no one but herself. But still, niggling at the back of her mind was the one thing that might prove her aunt correct. Could he change? Could he scrub off the spots of the Collector of Hearts and be plain old Robert Mallory, her husband?

  She had not known how much his fidelity had meant to her until Justin had mentioned it. It had played on her mind ever since. She wasn’t stupid. It was understood most marriages were not based on love. Arabella knew most married men kept mistresses, and that lonely wives took solace in lovers when their husbands’ backs were turned. But surely, if they loved each other there should be no reason to worry. Surely.

  Their marriage would be different; based on love and trust. Trust. That is what it came down to.

  Could she trust him?

  Did she trust him?

  Chapter 23

  Robert left his mother with Lady Shacklesbury so he could take up residence near the window in the large morning parlour, where the small group of guests were gathering for the wedding breakfast. His mother had not tried to pressure him for more information on Catherine even though he knew she was full of questions. He was grateful for her silence as he wasn’t ready to tell her, not while his mind was in turmoil.

&nbs
p; He had a clear view of the path that led up from the village and although he had seen Catherine arrive, she had not appeared in the parlour. This only made him worry more about what might have transpired between her and Arabella.

  Behind him, he heard Quinn laugh. Good. He must not have heard what had transpired in the churchyard yet, or that Catherine was here.

  Where was Arabella? Was she alone and upset? Should he go in search of her? Perhaps she did not want him anywhere near her. For the hundredth time since he had arrived back at the house, he wondered what Catherine might have told her. He would just have to hope that Arabella would see through her aunt to the conniving woman beneath. But then, Catherine was her flesh and blood and he was just a jaded rake with a reputation. Why would she believe his story over her aunt? His stomach dropped.

  Then he saw her. She was making her way up the path slowly, as though she had no wish to gain her destination. Her shoulders were slightly slumped and she looked deep in thought. He wanted to run to her, comfort her, but he knew he must give her the time she needed. It would be an agony to wait but one he must endure.

  To stop from running to her, he took his time studying those gathered in the room. He knew many of them through Shacklesbury, who was generally well liked despite being the friend of the Collector of Hearts. Ha, it was hard now to imagine the pride he used to have in the moniker. Now it soured on his tongue. He’d been so blind he had not seen how, just like Catherine, he had played with the emotions of those who bestowed their affections on him. So was he really any better than her? He had never once made a promise to any of the ladies he had dallied with; had always made sure they understood the rules of the game they played. For him, it had always been about pleasure, not dishonesty. He never sought to hurt any woman’s feelings, although he knew he often did when the game was done.

  All this time he had convinced himself he was master of the game, but now he saw he’d been the one played, over and over again, and at some point, he had stopped caring.

  He knew the moment Arabella arrived in the room. When had he become so attuned to her? From the first moment, he saw her and she had lifted her chin in defiance, he had been under her spell. He just hadn’t realised it.

  She went directly to her sister. Isabelle frowned but Arabella reached up and tenderly brushed her sister’s cheek, shaking her head slowly. Isabelle nodded, and not for the first time Robert envied their special bond. What had she told Isabelle without even saying a word?

  He continued to watch Arabella as she made polite conversation with the other guests and took a glass of lemonade from a footman. Not once did she look at him. Had Catherine got to her, played with her mind, and made her doubt him after all. Had she somehow heard about his attentions towards her niece and decided to put an end to it? Was that why she was here? To make sure she ended his happiness? Or was she simply trying to protect Arabella against him?

  The guests were starting to settle down for the wedding breakfast, taking their assigned seats. Would Catherine’s husband wonder why his wife had not taken her seat beside him? Brogdan was a beefy man, a serious Tory, mired in the politics of the House of Lords, knee-deep in the crown’s relationships with India, France and Portugal and happily so. He was in debate with Quinn’s brother Stephen, who looked at turns confused and alarmed. No doubt Brogdan was terrifying the poor lad with tales of his time on the continent. In any case, it appeared Catherine’s husband wasn’t in any way alarmed by the absence of his wife.

  Quinn appeared beside him. ‘You look decidedly maudlin, which I will not have on my wedding day. Come, sit by me.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Once sitting, Quinn cocked his head to the side and regarded Robert. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Everything is in hand.’ They began to eat and it occurred to him that Quinn may not have realised Catherine was even here. ‘Have you met Lady Tremaine’s sister?’

  ‘No, which one is she?’

  ‘Do you recognise the man on the next table over talking the ear off your brother?’

  ‘No, who is it?’

  ‘That is Lord Brogdan.’

  Understanding dawned on Quinn’s face, with mixed alarm. ‘Brogdan? Here? Why?’

  ‘He came with his wife to witness her niece’s wedding.’

  Quinn’s fork hesitated halfway to his mouth. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘I’m saying Catherine is here. We met in the churchyard which was, surprisingly, absent of lightning.’

  ‘Oh, bloody hell!’

  Robert had to laugh, for it still seemed ironic even to him that she was here. ‘Well, that is one way of putting it. Congratulations, you are now related to the devil.’

  ‘You didn’t cause a scene, did you?’

  Such faith his friend had in his ability to control himself. He supposed he couldn’t blame him. ‘I did nothing, but seeing as I told Arabella yesterday the whole sordid story it was awkward, to say the least.’

  Quinn put his fork down. ‘You told her about Catherine?’

  Robert held his gaze. ‘I told her everything.’

  ‘And she still agreed to be courted by you, despite her aunt?’

  ‘She agreed because she loves me, although I know I don’t deserve her. She did not know that I was talking of her aunt. I did not know I was talking of her aunt.’

  ‘This has become quite a mess.’ Quinn took a sip of his ale, all the while frowning.

  ‘Yes. My mess. You will go on your honeymoon.’

  ‘But—’

  Robert turned towards him and said in a hushed tone. ‘I mean it, Quinn. All will be well.’ He hoped it would be true. ‘I am sure that Arabella will write to her sister as soon as things are settled.’

  Quinn shook his head. ‘She will be distracted and unable to relax and enjoy our travels if she knows that Arabella is not happy.’

  ‘I am sure that Arabella will reassure her before you leave tomorrow.’

  Quinn contemplated his napkin, then folded it and placed it on the table. ‘Perhaps we should stay another day.’

  Robert shook his head. ‘No. I have no idea what version of the story Catherine told Arabella but they returned separately and Catherine has not yet made an appearance. Nothing changes until I know what has transpired between them.’

  ‘You have not spoken to Arabella since she returned?’

  ‘I will let her come to me. I can only hope I have not lost her to the lies of her aunt. I have told her the truth of my interaction with Catherine and the... consequences. I can do nothing more at this point.’

  ‘I’m sorry, my friend. This is not what I hoped would happen.’

  Robert lifted his glass of ale. ‘I’m sorry it happened today of all days, but let me make a toast to you, my friend, and your wedded bliss.’

  ***

  Guests were leaving, Tremaine was foxed and Quinn and Isabelle had already left an hour ago to their room upstairs. Arabella had gone up to help her sister get ready. Robert sat by the fire next to his mother.

  ‘You were very well behaved today, considering that woman’s appearance,’ she said in a mild tone.

  Here came the questions. He supposed she had a right to know. ‘Why thank you, Mother, that doesn’t make me feel like a ten-year-old at all.’

  ‘Seriously, Lady Brogdan feigned a headache and has not shown her face since the churchyard. I can’t help but wonder what transpired between Miss Arabella and that woman.’

  ‘Arabella has not yet come to me so I have no idea what happened either. I told her about my past last night. No matter the outcome of today, I think I did the right thing.’

  ‘I wish you had confided more in me as well.’

  ‘I was embarrassed by my foolishness back then. And later... later I wanted to pretend it never happened at all. I should have told you, it would have made you understand my actions better, but I didn’t understand them myself back then.’

  ‘I see. Well, she is beautiful.’

  ‘She is ugly as si
n inside, let me assure you. There is nothing remotely beautiful about her.’ Robert then proceeded to tell her of Catherine’s deceit.

  His mother was a little stunned by the time he told her the whole story.

  ‘Now I understand your reaction in the churchyard. I have never seen you so angry and distressed as I did this morning, not even when you argued with your father and left for London all those years ago. I feared you might do something... rash.’

  ‘I admit I thought I had conjured her up at first. I haven’t been sleeping well, you see. Now I am glad she is here. It has put a lot of things to rest for me, although I doubt it is the last I will see of her.’

  ‘Perhaps one day you may make peace with her? For the sake of family? Although I understand if you cannot.’

  ‘I don’t know. I doubt that is what she wants and I’m not sure if I can. I would tolerate her for Arabella’s sake, of course.’

  They fell silent for a moment.

  ‘I have been watching everyone with great interest tonight,’ his mother stated. ‘I believe Barton is keeping a close eye on you in case you mess this all up. And Arabella, the poor thing, loves you to distraction.’

  ‘Such confidence on my behalf, Mother. It warms the cockles of my heart, truly.’ He put his hand over his heart.

  She huffed. ‘I am just telling you what I observed.’

  ‘I am trying very hard not to... mess things up. Is it my fault Barton is playing dense?’

  His mother looked away then, which he thought was odd, especially when she said, ‘You know Arabella’s affections lay with you, so you should pay Barton no mind.’

  ‘Easy for you to say. I am doing my best to be worthy of her but it is increasingly hard when Barton is slipping her love notes every other hour.’

  ‘I am sure he is not slipping her love notes. Perhaps he is just sharing his latest poem with her.’

  ‘Love notes, love poems, it matters not. He knows I am courting her and still he hovers about her like an annoying gnat.’

  ‘I think you will find they are nothing more than friends.’

  Robert huffed at that. Nothing more than friends, eh? How easily fooled his mother was. Perhaps Barton had swayed her, too, with his charm and poetry. ‘I hope not to leave you in London on your own for too long. It all depends on how stubborn Bella is and how much she feels she must torture me before agreeing to marry me. I’m hoping it won’t be long.’