Unmasking the Duke's Mistress
Page 18
‘What has happened, Arabella?’ The growing concern in his eyes made it impossible for her to look at him. And she wanted to tell him the truth so much, all about Smith and his horrible threats. But the promise of what that villain would do was too clear in her head. Smith would ruin Archie and God only knew what he intended for Dominic. She thought of the night Dominic had come here with the mark of a blade across his ribs, and she wondered if that, too, had been Smith’s handiwork. She was shaking so much at the thought she feared Dominic would see it. She thought of how much she loved both Archie and the man who was his father, and knew she had to do this, for both their sakes. She forced herself on.
‘Matters have changed. I…I have reconsidered my situation…’ She gripped her hands tightly together.
He came towards her and she knew he meant to take her in his arms and she knew absolutely that she could not let that happen. ‘No!’ She put out a hand to stay him and backed away. ‘Please come no closer.’
He stopped where he was. ‘Arabella, are you going to tell me what this is about?’
She took a breath. And then another. There was no excuse she could give.
‘I…’ There was nothing that would make it any easier for either of them.
‘I cannot…’ She must say the words.
‘Dominic…’ She must say them no matter how like poison they were on her tongue.
‘I cannot marry you. I am breaking our betrothal.’
He gave a half-gasp half-laugh, but his eyes were serious and tense. ‘Is this some sort of jest?’
‘It is no jest.’ She could not bring herself to meet his gaze. She willed herself to think of Archie, not of what she was doing to them all.
There was a moment’s silence as he absorbed what she had said.
‘Why?’ It was the question she had known he would ask and the one she could not bear to answer. She shook her head.
‘Have I pushed you too much into the public eye? If all these outings are too much we can reduce them. Spend some evenings more—’
‘No,’ she interrupted him. ‘No,’ she said again.
‘Is it the wedding? We can make it a small quiet affair if that is what you prefer.’
‘No, Dominic.’ It was harder even than the worst of her imaginings. ‘It is none of that, nor anything that you have done. Please believe me.’
‘Then what?’
She shook her head again.
‘I love you, Arabella.’
The words hung in the air between them. Words that, had he uttered them yesterday, would have filled her with such joy. Now they broke her heart.
She gave a strangled breathy laugh at the irony of it and squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears. ‘Now you tell me.’ She felt a tear escape to trickle down her cheek and wiped it away with the heel of her hand.
‘I’ve never stopped loving you,’ he said.
‘You never told me. You never said it.’ Her self-control was stretched so thin she could not think ahead, could only handle the awfulness of the situation one second at a time.
‘I am sorry that I made such a hash of the proposal.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘But why else did you think that I asked you to marry me?’
‘For Archie. Out of duty.’
‘That is only a part of it. I am marrying you because I love you, Arabella. I should have told you.’
‘Oh, God,’ she whispered. ‘Please do not make this any harder than it already is. I cannot marry you, Dominic.’ The tears were running down her cheeks now and she could not stop them. ‘I cannot.’
He moved to her.
She backed away, stumbling, as she bumped against an armchair. Dominic caught her and pulled her to him, his hands gripping her upper arms tight as he stared down into her face.
‘I know that you love me too, Arabella.’
She shook her head, but could not say the words to deny it. ‘I cannot marry you,’ She clung to the mantra, knowing that she dare not trust herself to say much else.
‘You are out before all of society. Fading into the background to be my mistress once more is not an option.’
‘I cannot marry you and I cannot be your mistress. I have to go away, Dominic, away from you and away from London. Tonight.’
He gave a hard-edged laugh that rang with incredulity. ‘And you think I will let you go, just like that?’ He shook his head and she could see the determination in his eye. ‘I do not know what this is about, Arabella, but I told you before and I meant it, I have no intention of losing you again. And I have no intention of losing the son that I have only just found.’
And she was more afraid than ever because she recognised that implacable look on his face. ‘You have to release me and Archie, Dominic.’
‘No, Arabella, I do not.’ His jaw was set firm.
‘Please.’ She looked directly into his eyes for the first time. His life and that of their child hung in the balance. ‘I am begging you, Dominic. Believe me when I tell you that it is better this way.’
‘Better?’ His eyes held hers with possession and fierce protectiveness and suspicion. ‘You know that I love you. I would make you my wife, my duchess. I would give you and Archie everything you desire. And I know that you love me. So what are you running from, Arabella?’
He was coming too near the truth without even knowing what it was he was risking. She looked at him, this man that she loved so much, and she knew what she had to say to make him release her. To say it would kill a part of her for ever. But it would save him. And it would save Archie.
She looked into his eyes, so like those of their son. Inside her chest she felt the slowing of her heart. And inside her mind she felt a shutter close.
‘You are mistaken, Dominic. I do not love you.’ The words slipped from her mouth, slowly, quietly, to lie in the room between them. She felt as if she had screamed them at the top of her voice. She saw the shock in his eyes, the hurt, the pain, the disbelief. And it was as if she had taken a knife and plunged it into her own heart, and twisted that blade as cruelly as she could.
The clock on the mantel marked the seconds.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
‘I do not believe you,’ he whispered.
‘I do not love you,’ she said again, and her heart beat once…and twice…and a third time. There was nothing of warmth left in her. Where once blood had flowed in her veins there was only ice.
He stared down into her face and she saw the depth of the wound she had dealt him. She realised that in hurting him so badly she was destroying herself.
And still she stood there, so still, so immobile, and she did not allow herself to think, only to speak the lies.
‘And you have only just decided this?’ She saw the dangerous darkening of his eyes and the slight raising of one of his eyebrows. The hurt was still there, but there was anger before it, vying with incredulity. If she weakened in the slightest, if she gave him one sign of the truth… She grasped the handle of the knife that was already within her heart and stabbed it even deeper.
‘I should not have pretended otherwise.’ Her heart broke apart. She looked away because she could not bear to see the raw pain in his eyes. ‘You pretended?’ She could hear his anger. But she could bear his anger better than his hurt.
‘Yes,’ she said and forced herself to meet his eyes.
‘When we were making love? When you cried out your pleasure as I spilled my seed within you? When I lay with you all the night through?’ he demanded savagely.
‘Yes,’ she said again. And it was easier now that she could see his fury was taking over. She had to make him believe her.
The silence hissed between them. The seconds seemed too long. She stood there and waited, waited and waited, beneath the blast of his scrutiny, until at last he said,
‘Then I will not bind you against your will.’
‘Thank you.’ The words sounded distant as if it was not Arabella who had spoken them, but someone else far aw
ay. She did not even feel like she was really there in the room, but was standing outside of her body watching a tragedy unfold before her.
His eyes were glacial, but she knew they only masked a hurt deeper than her own. ‘Then let us sort the practicalities of this separation.’
‘There is nothing to sort. We will leave tonight and go to the village of Woodside; we lived there for a while when Henry was still alive.”
‘Oh, no, Arabella. You will wait until morning and then you will go to Amersham, to the cottage you once shared with your family.’
‘I—’ she started but Dominic cut her off.
‘The deeds of the cottage are already in your name, Arabella. It was to have been one of my wedding gifts to you. And do not refuse me, for I tell you that this is one of the stipulations by which I will release you.’
He had bought her the cottage. She batted the thought away, knowing she could not afford to let it in, not yet. Her mind felt frozen, but she could feel the great cracks that were spreading across the ice and she knew the barrier would not hold for much longer.
‘And your other stipulations?’ Second by second. It was nearly done.
‘Archie is my son and I mean to provide for him and keep both him and his mother safe. You will never go near a bordello again. Do you understand, Arabella?’
‘Yes.’ She understood what he still thought. She had never told him the truth. That there had only been that one night. That there had only ever been him.
‘I will provide you with an allowance and I will visit Archie regularly. A boy needs a father, Arabella.’
‘But—’ What would Mr Smith say to that?
‘But nothing. These are my conditions. I will agree to nothing less.’
His eyes were hard as flint. His jaw was clamped and resolute. She knew he meant exactly what he said. Smith had specified that she must not marry Dominic nor be his mistress, and that she must leave London. There had been no mention of anything else, although she did not trust what the villain would do if he came to hear of it.
‘It will be as you say.’ She could not hurt him or Archie any more than she had to. Hurting them to save them. Breaking Dominic’s heart to save his life. Such cruel irony.
‘Take the coach and what servants you will. I will close up this house when you are gone.’
She lifted the little red-leather box from beside the candlestick on the table and opened the lid to reveal the Arlesford betrothal ring nestled inside upon the cream velvet. In the dim light of the drawing room the sapphire had turned from a clear sky blue to a deep inky black as if it was in mourning. The diamonds glittered and winked in the flickering light of the solitary candle. She held the box out to him.
He hesitated for just a moment before taking it from her. The lid shut with a snap and he slipped it into his coat pocket.
‘Goodbye, Arabella.’ His eyes met hers and what she saw in them broke her heart into a thousand pieces. She did not trust herself to speak as she stood there barely hanging on to the shreds of her self-control.
He turned and walked away. And she just stood there, facing straight ahead at the paintings on the wall. She heard the click of the door shutting. Heard him speak to Gemmell and then his footsteps receding along the passageway. The front door closed with a slam that reverberated throughout the whole house. Only then did the ice barrier shatter as the great tide of raw emotion swept right through her, ravaging her with its ferocity. And she felt, absolutely felt, every last bit of what she had just done.
Arabella fell down to her knees and began to sob. She had saved the man she loved and their son, but at a cost so great she did not know if she could bear it. Arabella put her head in her hands and wept all the harder.
Chapter Seventeen
Dominic was in his study in Arlesford House sitting at his desk with all of the paperwork pertaining to Curzon Street open before him. He knew he should be checking through the details. But he barely noticed the letters. He was thinking of Arabella and that terrible last scene between them.
Over the subsequent days the shock and initial flare of reaction had diminished enough for him to at least begin to think straight. He was still hurt and angry beyond words, but he was also aware of an underlying feeling that something was not right. Not that anything could be right about her jilting him, again, or looking him in the eye to tell him that she did not love him. But he could not rid himself of the notion that there was something else, something that held the key to why Arabella had suddenly changed her mind. He revisited the scene in his head for the thousandth time, hearing her words again.
I cannot marry you. That same expression repeated again and again, so stilted, and with nothing of an explanation even though he had pushed for it. She refused to be either his wife or his mistress.
I have to go away, Dominic, away from you and away from London. Tonight.
The words had made his blood run cold, but now that he analysed them stripped of all emotion, he could see that they were all wrong.
He thought of her response to his baring his heart. She had wept as if her heart was breaking, yet she had not backed down.
And when he had told her he would not let her go she had begged. Arabella, who had led him to believe she was in a brothel out of choice, rather than reveal her dire circumstances. Arabella, who had suffered so much for the sake of her pride. Arabella, who had not begged even in the worst of her situations.
And as he listened again to that conversation, without letting the hurt and the anger cloud his mind, it dawned on him that only when she had realised he was serious about not releasing her had she said that she did not love him. It smacked of a woman lying out of desperation.
What are you running from? He heard the echo of his own question and remembered the sudden flicker of fear and panic in her eyes.
And he shivered at the realisation.
A knock sounded on the door and Bentley showed in Gemmell.
Dominic was barely listening as the elderly butler detailed how all that Dominic had bought had been packed away and removed from the Curzon Street house. He was aware that he had been so selfishly caught up in his hurt and his anger and his righteousness that he had missed what was before his very eyes.
Gemmell stood on the opposite side of the desk. ‘Everything is recorded in the list drawn up in the housekeeping book.’ The butler gestured towards the open book on the desk before Dominic. ‘The furnishings with which the town house was rented are all back in place. All is in order, your Grace, and the servants that did not accompany Mrs Marlbrook have been paid off. Several are asking if your Grace would be so kind as to furnish them with a character.’
‘Of course.’ Dominic gave a nod. ‘Who did Mrs Marlbrook take with her?’ He looked at Gemmell and it occurred to him that that the old butler, and indeed all of the staff of Curzon Street, had always behaved as if Arabella was their employer rather than Dominic. Not a single servant had told him of the presence of Archie or Mrs Tatton in the house for all of those weeks. In a matter of loyalty Gemmell would do what he thought to be best for Arabella. He wondered what else Gemmell might not have told him.
‘A manservant and two maids.’ As if to prove the path Dominic’s thoughts were taking, Gemmell added, ‘Madam asked me to move to Amersham with her, but unfortunately I had to decline. I have family commitments in London. Thirteen grandchildren to be precise,’ he said with a note of pride. Gemmell handed him the keys. ‘The house is locked up secure, your Grace.’
Dominic took the keys. ‘Thank you.’
Gemmell gave a nod. ‘Will that be all, your Grace?’
‘Not quite.’ Dominic met the old man’s eyes. ‘Did anything unusual happen between Mrs Marlbrook’s return from the opera on Friday night and my visit on Saturday?’
Gemmell’s gaze shifted away and there was about him a slight uneasiness. He gripped the hat and gloves in his hands a little too tightly.
‘Any messages delivered? An unusual letter, perhaps? A visitor?’
‘Gemmell,’ said Dominic quietly, ‘I have only Mrs Marlbrook’s welfare at heart.’
Gemmell looked at him and Dominic saw the old man wrestle internally with the dilemma before he gave a nod.
‘There was something, your Grace. A visitor called on Saturday morning. A…’ the slightest of hesitations ‘…gentleman by the name of Mr Smith.’ Dominic could sense his discomfort and understood that Gemmell had been trying to protect Arabella.
‘Go on,’ he encouraged.
‘They spoke in the library for some twenty minutes and then I heard the door open and I thought that the gentleman meant to leave, but when I arrived there, Master Archie had escaped Mrs Tatton and was playing outside the library. Mrs Marlbrook told me to take Archie to her mother and she went back into the library with Mr Smith.’ Gemmell must have been aware of how bad it sounded, for he looked as if he wished the ground would open up and swallow him.
Dominic was thinking fast. ‘Did Smith see Archie?’
‘He did, your Grace.’
‘And when he departed, did Mrs Marlbrook ring for any thing?’
‘Indeed, sir. Immediately that the gentleman was gone Mrs Marlbrook and Mrs Tatton started packing for a journey.’
There was a silence after the butler’s words during which Dominic digested what Gemmell had just told him.
There was some measure of foul play at work; Dominic knew it.
Words that Arabella had once uttered played again in his mind: I did what I had to for Archie’s sake. I will always do what I have to, to protect him, no matter what you say.
And Dominic knew that whoever Smith was and whatever hold he had over Arabella, this was somehow about Archie. The significance of the man seeing his son made Dominic’s blood run cold.