By the time Arabella and Dominic were alone in the drawing room Arabella was feeling distinctly nervous. She smoothed her skirts and perched on the edge of the sofa.
‘Your meeting with Lord Misbourne went well last night?’ she asked.
‘Well enough.’ He was standing over by the fireplace, which was still unlit on account of the warmth of the evening.
There was a silence that she quickly filled.
‘Would you like some more tea?’
‘No more tea, thank you, Arabella.’ His dark pensive gaze came to rest upon hers. ‘I meant what I said last night—about marriage—to you.’
‘Dominic.’ She sighed. It was such a sensitive subject for them both. ‘How can we possibly marry after all that has happened?’
‘How can we not?’ There seemed to be a still calmness about him, yet the flicker of the muscle in his jaw betrayed the tension that ran beneath that stillness.
‘I am your mistress, for pity’s sake!’
‘And have not other men married their mistresses? What of Mountjoy? Besides. I shall hardly be introducing you as such.’
‘Too many people know of Miss Noir and Mrs Silver.’
‘Maybe, but there is nothing to connect them to Mrs Marlbrook. Rest assured I will take every step to ensure that any such links be taken care of and that your background is nothing but respectable. Are you not the respectable and widowed Mrs Marlbrook recently come to London? They shall think it is a love match.’
Once it really had been a love match. And now… She looked into Dominic’s eyes.
‘We have to do this, Arabella, for Archie’s sake. I have a duty both to my son, Arabella, and to right the wrongs I have dealt you.’
Duty? Her hope, still so new and tender and rising, was crushed. There was no talk of affection, no mention of love.
‘This is about duty and appeasing your own guilt,’ she said. How foolish to have thought it could be anything other.
‘My guilt? It was you that hid Archie from me, Arabella.’ Her eyes widened as his words found their target.
‘What choice did I have? I did what I thought was best for Archie. He is my son.’
‘He is my son, too. Do I not also have the right to do my very best for him, or do you continue to deny me that right?’
She turned away to hide her hurt. ‘Archie looks so like you that everyone will know he is your son. He will be subjected to their gossip.’
‘I care not what they think, Arabella. They may whisper their suppositions, but I am not without power and influence. Besides, unless you mean to keep him hidden for ever they will find out soon enough and I can protect him all the better once we are married—just as I can protect you.’
She knew what he was saying was right, yet she was overwhelmed with a feeling of disappointment and sadness. She should be glad that he had such a care for his son, that he had a sense of honour. And she was. Truly. But she could not help thinking of the first time he had asked her to be his wife, when they had been young and naïve and in love. Everything was different now. Too much had happened. There could never be any going back. And she hurt to know it.
‘I am unsure, Dominic.’
‘What is the alternative, Arabella? That I keep you here as my mistress with Archie as my bastard? Is that your preference?’
‘No!’
‘Then there is nothing else other than that we wed.’
She could feel the fast hard thump of her heart against her chest. He was asking her to marry him. The man she had loved; the man she loved still. Yet her chest was tight and she felt like weeping.
‘There is another alternative that you have not considered,’ she said slowly and it seemed as if the words did not even come from her own mouth. She felt chilled in even saying them, but they needed to be spoken. ‘I need not be your mistress. My mother and Archie and I could go to the country. If we had a little money, enough for a small cottage, we could live in quiet respectability and you could—’
He grabbed hold of her upper arms and pulled her close to stare down into her face, eyes filled with fury. ‘Is that what you want, Arabella?’
And behind his anger she saw the hurt of the wound she had just inflicted and she could not lie. ‘You know it is not.’ She shook her head and felt the tears prick in her eyes. ‘But this is not about want, is it? As you have already said, this is about duty and what is best for Archie.’
‘And you think it is best to take him away from his father?’
‘You could still visit him and—’
But he did not let her finish. ‘You may choose to marry me, Arabella, or to remain as my mistress. There is no other choice, for I will let neither you nor the boy go. So what is it to be, Arabella? Will you marry me?’
She felt angry and hurt and saddened. Her head knew his proposal made sense. He was offering what was best for Archie. He was offering what any woman in her situation should have jumped at. But her heart… Her heart was saying something else all together.
‘You set it all out so clearly,’ she said. And she remembered what he had said that very first night in the brothel: Whores do as rich men bid. And part of her revolted against both it and his possession of her.
His gaze held hers, waiting for her answer.
‘Yes, Dominic, I will marry you.’ For Archie. Only for Archie.
He gave a nod, and she felt something of the tension in his grip relax.
They looked at one another and there seemed so much anger and tension and sadness between them.
Then he took a small red-leather ring box from his pocket, inside of which was a ring of sparkling diamonds that surrounded a large square sapphire of the clearest, bluest blue.
‘The Arlesford betrothal ring,’ he said and slid the ring on to the third finger of her left hand.
She could not say a word, for she feared that all of what she felt would come tumbling out.
‘I will make the necessary arrangements.’
She nodded.
Dominic bowed, then he left.
It should have been one of the happiest days of her life, but for Arabella it was one of the saddest. Dominic was marrying her not out of love, but for Archie. They were both doing this for Archie. It was the way it had to be. And she should be used to giving herself to a man who did not love her.
Dominic knew he had made a mess of the proposal. He was shocked and hurt that Arabella had even suggested leaving. And he was shocked, too, at his resentment at being denied his son. The thought that she could even think of taking Archie away from him brought back all of the anger that he had felt on learning that she had kept the boy hidden from him. He knew that he had done everything wrong by her right from that first night in the bordello. And now he was trying to make it right. But it seemed that it was too late.
She said she still had feelings for him. And he knew what it was he felt about her. He had thought she would have wanted to marry him. He thought she would have been happy. But nothing of the conversation had gone as he had hoped, apart from the outcome, he supposed. Sometimes broken things could not be repaired. Sometimes the damage done was too great. He wondered if there was any way back for them.
He would make Arabella his wife, and see Archie acknowledged as his rightful son, because it was the best thing he could do for them. And as for matters between him and Arabella—well, he could only hope that through time they would improve.
He deadened his heart and set his mind to organising a ball at Arlesford House to announce their betrothal.
Chapter Fifteen
Two weeks after Dominic’s proposal, at nine o’clock on Friday evening, Mrs Tatton was still fussing at the looking glass within her bedchamber when she heard a carriage draw up outside.
‘Is it the carriage he has sent, Arabella?’ Arabella could hear the anxiety that edged her mother’s voice; much as she was feeling nervous herself, she sought to reassure her.
Arabella peeped from the edge of the drawn curtains down on to the road belo
w. ‘It is, Mama, but there is time enough yet to compose yourself.’
‘Compose myself? I swear that I shall not be composed the whole of this evening. I have never felt so nervous in all my life!’
‘You have nothing to worry over.’
‘Save the fact I may let us all down before the Prince of Wales.’
‘Mama…’ Arabella’s gaze met her mother’s in the looking glass ‘…you could never do that.’
‘But what if they discover the truth of us—that we have not lived so quietly since Mr Marlbrook’s death?’
‘They shall not discover any such thing; Dominic has taken care of everything. Now take a deep breath, Mama, and let us have one last look at your outfit.’
Mrs Tatton turned back to the looking glass.
Arabella’s gaze roved over the purple silk which her mother was wearing. The colour suited her mother’s skin and brought a healthy glow to her complexion. It was high necked, the bodice closed over by a line of amethyst buttons that sparkled in the candlelight. On Mrs Tatton’s head was fitted a small turban in matching purple silk; the hair beneath had been curled and coiffured to soften the turban’s edges. The shimmer of purple silk picked out silver highlights in the grey curls. Arabella had not seen her mother look so well in years.
‘You are quite lovely, Mama.’
‘Thank you, Arabella.’ Her mother smiled, her nerves forgotten for the moment. ‘You look lovely yourself. Every bit a duchess-in-waiting.’
Arabella glanced down at the deep blue silk gown. It was plainly, but expertly, cut in the latest fashion to do justice to her figure. In the candlelight her skin looked pale and creamy beside the dark intense colour of the dress. The sleeves were short and sitting off her shoulders and the long evening gloves and reticule were of a shade that exactly matched the dress. Her décolletage was bare and Arabella touched her fingers against the skin and thought fleetingly of the golden locket that had meant so much more to her than the diamond-and-sapphire ring that was now upon her finger. She pushed the thought aside, knowing that she must show nothing of her true feelings, that tonight was all about playing the role of a respectable widow who had captured a duke’s heart.
‘Thank you, Mama. I shall just have a quick peep at Archie before we leave.’
‘He will be sleeping, Arabella.’
‘I hope so.’ Arabella smiled, but it was all for her mother and there was nothing of happiness inside. ‘But I will check so that I am certain. And ensure that Anne knows what to do if he should wake before we have returned.’
Dominic had always thought Arabella a beautiful woman, but the sight of her with Mrs Tatton coming in through the hallway of Arlesford House quite took his breath away. She was lovelier than he could have imagined. Wearing a shimmering silver shawl, under which he could see a plain dark blue dress that was expensive, respectable, and perfectly in keeping with her role as a widow of two years. And yet the dress showed off the curves of Arabella’s figure in just the right way. Her hair was an elaborate arrangement of golden curls piled upon her head. Several loose tendrils framed her face and wisped softly around her neck. Even Mrs Tatton appeared to have more colour in her face and was wearing a purple outfit complete with turban, and a purple-and-blue fringed shawl.
He bowed to them both, although it was hard for him to drag his gaze from Arabella for long.
‘Your Grace,’ she said and curtsied, all formality, just as it had been between them in private these past two weeks.
He could hear the murmur of curiosity amongst the guests that already packed the ballroom.
‘And Mrs Tatton,’ he said and bowed to her mother.
The hundreds of candles in the three chandeliers in the ballroom sparkled on the sapphire-and-diamond betrothal ring on Arabella’s finger as he raised her hand to his lips. The surrounding murmur grew louder.
He spoke to Arabella and her mother in the politest of terms, knowing that their every word was being listened to even above the singing of the violins that sounded so clear and sweet from the musicians up on the balcony.
‘You are well, Mrs Marlbrook?’ he enquired and his gaze was intent upon hers. He gave her hand that was tucked within his arm a little squeeze as he led her and Mrs Tatton to a small collection of chairs that he had been keeping just for them. He wanted to know how she was bearing up to such pressure, for he knew that beneath that mask of cool tranquillity she would be worried.
He felt the return of the slight transient pressure of her fingers against the muscle of his arm. He gestured to a passing footman carrying a silver salver of filled champagne glasses and passed Arabella and her mother each a glass of champagne. They chatted for a little while, about the weather, about how she and her mother were enjoying London, about horse riding. And then he took Arabella and Mrs Tatton over to where the Prince of Wales was holding court and presented them.
The wave of whisperings and staring was passing right through the room. Dominic was looking forward to making the announcement. He watched Arabella and the prince together and knew that Prinny was giving her his royal approval. No one would dare question her respectability now. He gave a small nod of acknowledgement at the prince and saw Prinny give a nod back. A royal prince needed his allies every bit as much as a duke. And then Dominic signalled to the musicians to cease playing. It was time.
Arabella was so busy keeping an eye on her mother and guarding her conversation with the prince that she did not notice what was happening until the music stopped. A hushed chatter filled the silence.
Dominic’s ballroom was large and there must have been at least a hundred people packed within its glittering splendour. Arabella could see what seemed like the flicker of a thousand candles sparkling against the myriad of faceted crystal drops on the massive chandeliers. The ceiling, the top of the walls and the front of the balcony were decorated with the most pure and beautiful plasterwork. The walls themselves were painted a cool pale green, which lent the room an airy spacious feel. Above the massive fireplace, which thankfully had not been lit, was a huge looking glass that reflected the light from the chandeliers and made the room even brighter. The oak floorboards had been scraped and polished until they gleamed like a rich dark chocolate. Around the room were tables and chairs, and wall sconces that dripped with crystal in a fashion that mirrored their parent chandeliers. It was beautiful and elegant and most luxurious.
And then Dominic’s butler was ringing a small bell. ‘Pray silence your majesty, my lords, ladies and gentlemen. The Duke of Arlesford wishes to make an announcement.’
She heard the buzz of whispers go around the room. Arabella was standing with the Prince of Wales on one side and her mother on the other. Dominic was on the other side of the prince. Although most of the attention in the room was fixed on Dominic, she could see a few of the gazes upon herself. Every pair of eyes in the room was filled with question. Everyone wanted to know what was so important that the Duke of Arlesford intended making an announcementr.
And then Dominic took her hand and drew her over to stand by his side. And she saw the shock and surprise on some faces and the confirmation of guesses on others. His fingers closed around hers and she felt all of his support flowing through that warm touch.
Dominic began to talk, and her heart gave a little jump, her stomach a little jitter and she realised that this was it.
‘I would like to present to you all, Mrs Arabella Marlbrook.’
She could hear him talking and she stood there so still, so calm, facing that sea of faces as if she were the very proper, very respectable widowed Mrs Marlbrook whom Dominic was describing. He was still talking.
‘I am very happy to be able to tell you that Mrs Marlbrook has accepted my proposal of marriage. We are to be married as soon as matters can be arranged.’
Which would be in two months’ time, at the height of the summer, in Westminster Abbey, if all went according to plan. She would be a duchess, and Archie, his father’s son and heir to a dukedom. Her mother would nev
er again go cold. Her son, never go hungry. There would always be enough money for food and medicines and coal. He had made her respectable again. He would make her his wife. But Arabella could not smile.
Dominic raised her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss against it. Every person in the ballroom began to applaud and she could see her mother smiling by her side, and she could see, too, the look in Dominic’s eyes when he looked at her—dark and possessive and filled with all they had not said to one another in the past two weeks. She forced herself to smile because it was what everyone was expecting. She smiled as she met the gazes of Dominic’s guests. Smiled sadly at the good will she saw in those faces because she knew, if they knew the truth, there would be nothing of good will there. And then her gaze passed over two faces that were not smiling.
One was the grey bearded man whom she had seen in Vauxhall on the night of the carnival—Lord Misbourne—and the other was a taller, younger, dark-haired man by his side. The younger man’s expression was filled with such coldness that it shocked her and sent a shiver down her spine. Arabella’s feigned smile was all the broader to hide her sudden unease.
Beside her she heard the prince raise a toast to Dominic’s and her future happiness. She was obliged to curtsy her acknowledgement to him and take the glass of champagne from the footman who appeared by her side, so that she might raise it in response. And when she looked again to find the face that had so distressed her, it had gone and so had Misbourne’s. Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the men, but there was not one sign of them.
And then the cheering began, and although Dominic was smiling she could see the darkness in his eyes, and she was smiling even more to hide her unhappiness and discomfort. The band began to play again and people pressed forwards to offer their congratulations. But Arabella’s eyes were still searching for the man and, although she took every step to mask it, the unease that he elicited remained. And it seemed that in the background of all the laughter and music that surrounded her she could hear a whisper of foreboding.
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