Lady Arabella's Scandalous Marriage

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Arabella, I know you are awake because I saw your eyelids move just now. Now, open your eyes, damn it!’ Strong hands clasped hold of her arms and she felt herself being shaken.

  She had never given particular thought to what it would be like in the afterlife. There would be angels, of course. Celestial music, perhaps. But never in any of her imaginings on the subject had Arabella thought to hear Darius cursing at her. Or that she would still be able to feel his strong fingers around her arms…

  Her lashes flickered before she opened heavy lids to gaze upwards, blinking dazedly as she found herself looking at the canopy above the bed in her bedchamber. Was this what heaven was like? she wondered dreamily. Did the same life continue? With the same surroundings…

  ‘Arabella, look at me!’ The pale yet fiercely angry face of her husband moved into her line of unfocused vision as he bent over her. ‘Do you hear me, Arabella?’

  ‘I hear you, Darius,’ she managed to croak out between stiff lips. ‘I imagine that the whole of heaven can hear you when you are shouting so loudly.’

  ‘Heaven? Damn it, you are not dead!’ He scowled down at her darkly. ‘Although God knows how you are not! How dare you place yourself in front of me in that way? How could you deliberately put yourself in danger?’ He shook her once again, before just as suddenly pulling her up into his arms, his expression anguished. ‘Oh, Arabella, I thought he had killed you! I thought you were—Oh, God…’ He buried his face in her golden curls and began to shake uncontrollably.

  She was not dead!

  She could not be dead when Darius felt so solid and warm against her. When she could feel his body shaking as he held her so tightly against him.

  ‘Darius?’ Arabella reached up a hand to wonderingly touch the soft golden reality of his hair and the hardness of his jaw. ‘Darius, you are not dead, either!’ She buried her face against the warmth of his jacket as she clung to him.

  ‘Neither one of us is dead, love.’

  As if to prove the point Darius began to kiss her throat, her earlobes, her cheeks, her eyes, her nose, and then finally her lips. They kissed hungrily, desperately, deeply, for long, wonderful minutes.

  ‘Why did you do that, Arabella?’ Darius finally pulled back slightly to glare down at her fiercely once again. ‘Why did you deliberately put yourself in the path of danger?’

  His eyes were dark and pained with the memory of that few seconds in time when Arabella had moved in front of him to place herself directly where Francis had been aiming the pistol.

  ‘You really are alive, Darius!’ Arabella’s eyes glowed as she looked up at him wonderingly. ‘You—’ She broke off as he gave a pained wince. Her fingers had tightened on his arm. ‘You are hurt!’ Her eyes widened in alarm as she removed her hand and saw blood darkening the material of his jacket.

  ‘It is unimportant. A flesh wound only,’ Darius dismissed. ‘Arabella—’

  ‘I wish to see this flesh wound.’ Arabella pushed him gently back so that she might sit up on the side of the bed. ‘Take off your jacket.’

  ‘Arabella, you will not deflect me from my chastisement of you by attempting to change the subject,’ Darius warned her harshly. ‘You will explain yourself.’

  ‘Take off your jacket immediately and let me see your arm.’ She ignored his rebuke as she concentrated on trying to peel his jacket from his shoulders.

  Darius’s expression softened at her concern. ‘It really is only a flesh wound, Arabella, and can easily be dealt with later.’

  She looked up at him uncertainly. ‘How is it that we are both still alive?’

  He grimaced. ‘Because Francis is the one who is dead.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Grayson,’ he told her. ‘He went outside after talking with you, and as he passed the study window he saw Francis in here, pointing the duelling pistols at the two of us. He shot him at the same time as Francis pulled the trigger on his own pistol, jerking Francis’s aim and so deflecting the bullet into my arm instead of your back.’ Darius’s face was ferocious at the memory of what had so nearly occurred.

  Arabella remembered the sound of breaking glass that she had heard a mere fraction of a second before the loud report of Francis’s pistol. ‘Then the danger really is over?’

  ‘Francis’s death has brought that whole sorry business to an end, yes.’

  ‘I am so sorry, Darius.’

  ‘I am not.’ His jaw was rigid with tension.

  Her eyes were wide. ‘But what will happen now? How will you explain Francis’s death?’

  Darius shook his head. ‘I have not had a chance to work out the details as yet, but I think perhaps it might be arranged in a few days that my brother has met his death by contracting influenza whilst travelling abroad.’

  Arabella frowned. ‘Arranged how?’

  ‘I have said I have not worked out the details as yet—I am sorry, Arabella.’ He sighed as he saw how hurt she looked at the harshness of his tone. ‘It is only that at this moment I am more interested in why you threw yourself in front of me in that reckless way.’ Darius looked down at her searchingly.

  Those few seconds, when he had held the limp Arabella in his arms, had been the worst of Darius’s entire life. A moment of utter and complete despair. Before he’d felt the pain of the wound to his own arm and realised that Francis’s bullet had not struck and killed her after all. Then had come the most euphoric moment of his life…

  ‘Tell me why you did something so stupid? So unbelievable? So utterly selfless!’ His eyes glowed down at her fiercely.

  She swallowed hard, her gaze not quite meeting his. ‘I could not stand by and let that monster kill you.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She looked up sharply. ‘You would rather I had let him kill you?’

  Darius gave a rueful smile. ‘I would rather that you answered my question, Arabella.’

  Tiny white teeth worried at her lower lip. ‘Will you not just accept that—?’

  ‘Arabella, it is time that you knew how much I have always loved you,’ he cut in. The time for prevaricating about his feelings for the courageous young woman who was now his wife was as over as his career spying for the crown. ‘I have loved you, been obsessed by you, since the moment I first set eyes upon you eighteen long months ago.’ He sincerely repeated his statement of the previous evening, which he had then said mockingly in order to put her off the scent of the truth.

  Her eyes widened. ‘Is that true, Darius?’

  ‘Impossible to believe, is it not?’ His mouth twisted.

  ‘I—but you married Sophie Belling!’ She frowned her confusion.

  ‘Yes,’ he confirmed harshly. ‘And all I have been able to selfishly think since then is that if I had married you in her stead a year ago then it would have been you that Francis killed!’

  ‘You loved me even then?’

  ‘Long before then.’ Darius admitted stiffly.

  ‘Then I do not understand why you married someone else.’

  ‘Sophie was not all that she seemed. Besides…’ Darius’s expression became bleak. ‘What did it matter whom I married once you had refused me?’

  ‘But I did not—what do you mean, she was not all that she seemed?’ Arabella looked even more confused.

  Darius stood up abruptly, knowing that he had to put some distance between himself and Arabella while he told her of his years working for the crown whilst deliberately fooling the ton into believing he was nothing more than a fortune-hunter and a rake. Besides, Arabella had not yet told him that she returned any of the feelings he had just confessed for her, so perhaps she did not…

  ‘Sophie was an agent for the crown. As am I,’ he added softly. ‘Our marriage was one of convenience, as I have already explained. But it was a convenience meant to confirm my own apparent desperate need for a wealthy wife, and Sophie’s need for a titled husband, whilst allowing us both to continue our work for the crown without alerting the ton or anyone else as to those less public activities.�
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  Arabella appeared to have been rendered speechless by his revelation. Although, characteristically, she did not remain so for very long! ‘Your apparent need for a wealthy wife?’ she questioned.

  Darius shrugged. ‘The rumours of my bankruptcy were vastly over-exaggerated, I am afraid.’

  ‘Deliberately so? By you?’

  ‘Yes.’ He sighed. ‘I have always been in possession of rather a large fortune, love,’ he assured her dryly, as still she frowned.

  ‘I—But you—How long have you worked as an agent for the crown?’

  ‘Eight years,’ Darius told her bleakly.

  ‘Eight years!’ Arabella gasped, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘And the Earl of Banford and Gideon Grayson?’

  ‘Also agents for the crown. Obviously ones who have been allowed a more respectable reputation than I,’ he added with a humourless smile.

  ‘All this time—all these years—you have deliberately allowed Society to think the worst of you!’

  He grimaced. ‘I did not deliberately allow them to think anything; eight years ago, when I was asked to work for the crown, I was very much the rake everyone believed me to be.’

  ‘And in the years since?’

  Darius gave a rueful shrug. ‘Once a rake always a rake, you know.’

  Except he was not, Arabella realised. Darius was no longer a rake, or a gambler, and had never been a fortune-hunter, or responsible for the death of his wife and brother, or indeed any of the awful things that Society had believed of him for so long. Instead he was as much a hero if not more, as any of the gallant soldiers who had publicly taken up arms to fight for their king and country.

  ‘How can you bear it, Darius?’ she choked emotionally. ‘How can you stand the gossip and sneering of people who should instead be thanking you for their very freedom?’

  He shrugged wide shoulders. ‘I have never much cared for Society’s opinion of me, Arabella.’

  ‘And my own opinion of you?’ Did that matter to Darius?

  Only minutes ago he had told her that he loved her. That he had loved her for this past year and a half! Arabella stood up slowly to cross the room so that she stood only inches away from him. From the heat of his body. From the warmth of the arms he kept firmly behind his back.

  ‘Darius, I have loved you, been obsessed by you, since the moment I first set eyes upon you.’ She met his deeply searching gaze unblinkingly as she repeated his own words back at him and allowed him to see her love shining in the depths of her eyes.

  A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘You refused my offer for you over a year ago.’

  ‘No.’ Arabella knew there must be absolute truth between Darius and herself now. ‘I did not even know of that offer,’ she explained at Darius’s questioning look. ‘I had no idea of it until Hawk told me of it on our wedding day.’

  Those blue eyes narrowed. ‘Your brother did not even consult with you that first time before refusing me?’

  ‘No.’

  Darius drew in a harsh breath. ‘What would your answer have been if he had told you of it?’

  Arabella smiled. ‘I have no doubt, no matter what my feelings for you, that I would have considered long and hard before aligning myself with the disreputable Lord Darius Wynter. But ultimately…’ Once again love glowed in her eyes as she gazed up at him. ‘Ultimately I know I would have said yes!’ She put a hand on his arm. ‘I love you so very much, you see, Darius. I always have. And I always will.’

  Darius closed his eyes briefly as he attempted to take in the wonder of Arabella having loved him all along. ‘Do you think that perhaps we are both dead and gone to heaven, after all?’ he murmured wonderingly as he took her into his arms to hold her tightly against him.

  Arabella gave a husky laugh as she pressed into the warmth of those arms. ‘If we are then I hope we will both stay here for ever!’

  For ever with Arabella.

  It was all that Darius had ever wanted and more.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mulberry Hall

  Seven weeks later.

  ‘Come along, Arabella, it is Christmas Day and all of your family will be expecting us to join them downstairs for breakfast some time before lunch!’

  Arabella stretched sleepily as she lay naked in her husband’s arms, realising they both must have dozed off for several minutes after having indulged in some rather wonderful lovemaking.

  ‘I have not given you your Christmas gift yet.’

  ‘No?’ Darius grinned down at her.

  ‘That was not your Christmas gift.’ Arabella returned the warmth of that smile as she moved up on her elbow to look down at him. ‘I thought that since you have now given up spying you might appreciate having some other diversion with which to keep busy.’

  ‘You are not enough?’ Darius teased indulgently.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Arabella allowed huskily. The past seven weeks of knowing how much they loved each other had been more wonderful than she could ever have imagined. ‘But I would not wish you to become too bored at Winton Hall with just me for company.’

  Darius sobered, his gaze intense as he assured her, ‘You could never, ever bore me, love.’

  ‘Does that mean you do not want your Christmas gift?’ Arabella swirled the hair upon his chest with the tip of her finger, instantly reigniting Darius’s desire for her.

  He eyed her speculatively, noting the teasing glow in her eyes and the secretive smile that curved her kissable lips. ‘What mischief have you been up to now, love?’

  ‘Have we been up to,’ she corrected. ‘Although I am afraid I will not be able to properly place your gift into your arms for another seven and a half months…’

  Darius frowned his confusion. ‘I do not understand—Arabella?’ His voice sharpened as she took hold of his hand and placed it against the flatness of her stomach.

  Her smile was one of complete happiness as she announced. ‘I am with child, Darius!’

  ‘I—But—Are you sure?’ Darius sat up abruptly to look down at her in utter disbelief.

  ‘Jane’s physician confirmed it only yesterday. Do not look so concerned.’ Arabella laughed indulgently at his look of stunned disbelief. ‘I believe it is a perfectly natural occurrence when couples make love as often as we have this past seven weeks!’

  Those weeks had been blissfully happy ones for Arabella, as she knew herself well and truly loved by Darius. It was a love she returned just as deeply.

  Darius had resigned from spying. After a suitable time Francis had reportedly become ‘ill in France’, and then been buried in the family crypt—a necessary fabrication for both Margaret Wynter and Society.

  Arabella’s family had been wonderful throughout, Hawk having had a quiet conversation with Darius some weeks ago in which it had been revealed that Hawk’s new position in the government had finally allowed him access to knowledge of what Darius had really been doing this past eight years. Darius had been rendered speechless by the other man’s apology for any heartache he might have caused Darius or Arabella by refusing Darius’s first offer, and for his disapproval of their marriage two months ago.

  Altogether, it had been as if those first few dangerous days of their marriage had never been. And now they were to have a baby. A child they had made together with the deepest of love.

  ‘Is it not wonderful, Darius?’ Arabella glowed up at him.

  ‘You are the one who is wonderful, my darling Arabella,’ he said huskily. ‘I love you so very, very much,’ he murmured gruffly, and once again he took her in his arms.

  ‘As I love you,’ she assured him fervently as she threw her arms about his neck and drew him down to her.

  Breakfast, Christmas Day and her family could all wait….

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-5228-2

  LADY ARABELLA’S SCANDALOUS MARRIAGE

  Copyright © 2010 by Carole Mortimer

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