The Returned Lords of Grosvenor Square: A Regency Romance Boxset

by Rose Pearson

  “But,” Arabella said aloud, rising to her feet, and setting the cup down carefully on the tray. “If I am discovered, then the engagement will have to continue and we shall be wed regardless.” That was not an entirely unwelcome outcome, given that she still loved Jacob desperately, but all the same, Arabella was hopeful that she would not be seen. Hurrying to the writing desk in the corner, she quickly penned a short note – saying nothing more than a brief thank you for the advice Jacob had given her – and sealed it as quickly as she could. Then she hurried from the room and made her way to her bedchamber, where she might prepare herself for tonight’s adventure.

  “I am aware that it is terribly late, but this is of the utmost urgency!”

  Arabella did not smile at the butler, aware that her severe expression would do all that was required.

  “Lord Jacob is not at home, my lady.”

  “Then I must put this where he will find it,” she insisted, stepping swiftly over the threshold before the butler could say a word, her tired and slightly confused maid trailing behind her. “The study, mayhap?”

  The butler hesitated for a moment, looking from her to the open door and then back again, before he inclined his head. “Yes, my lady. Do you know the way?”

  She managed a quick smile, her heart thumping. “I do. Might you wait for me here, to see me out again safely? I shall be but a few minutes.” Gesturing to the maid to wait also, she looked up at the butler for his response.

  The butler nodded dutifully and shut the front door, allowing Arabella to breathe a small sigh of relief. She hurried her pace and quickly made her way down the long hallway to where she knew Jacob’s study was.

  The door was not locked and Arabella pushed her way inside, as though she expected Jacob to be waiting for her. There were a few candles lit and a small fire was in the grate, but of Jacob there was no sign. Her heart began to ache again as she recalled what had taken place earlier that afternoon in this very room, but she forced her thoughts away from such things and focused on what it was she had to do.

  Find the note. Find the blue ribbon.

  That note was the answer to all her questions, she was quite sure of it. As much as she did not want to be hit with the truth of her suspicions, Arabella was determined to discover who had taken her place in Jacob’s heart. There could be no other explanation for his rejection of her.

  The floorboards creaked under her feet as she moved, making her wince. Recalling that the butler was waiting for her, Arabella scurried towards the desk and began to search for the note.

  There was no sign of it on the desk and so she was resigned to pulling at the drawers, relieved that they opened to her when she tried them. The first three gave her nothing, but the fourth presented her with the evidence she required.

  There was no time to stop and read it now. Pushing the note into her pocket and choosing to leave the blue ribbon behind, Arabella set her note for Jacob on his desk and then quickly made her way back towards the door.

  She was just in time, for the butler was already making his way towards her, his face a little pinched. Evidently, in his estimation, she had taken a little too long to set a letter on Jacob’s desk.

  “I thank you,” she said, as sweetly as she could, all the while feeling a trickle of sweat run down her spine. The letter in her pocket seemed to burn through her gown, searing her skin, as her desperation to be removed from this house and to return to the safety of her own bedchamber grew steadily.

  “Shall I have a footman escort you home, my lady?” the butler asked, as they began to walk back towards the door. “It is very dark and rather late.”

  Arabella shook her head. “It is but a few short steps, but I thank you,” she replied, aware that she was risking her own reputation just by setting foot out of doors at this time of night, even with a maid for company. “Good evening.”

  Before the butler could reply, before he could insist that she be accompanied by someone, Arabella was out of the house and down the stone steps, glad that her hat was pulled over her face to conceal most of her appearance in shadow. The dark gloom was rather melancholy and sank Arabella’s spirits all the lower as she made her way back to the house. Much to her relief, her mother had not yet returned and so, as quietly as she could, Arabella made her way inside and then immediately up to her bedchamber, only pausing to remove her hat and handing it to her maid.

  “I will not require you this evening,” she directed, as the maid made to follow her up the staircase. “You may retire.”

  The maid, who looked thoroughly confused about what had been asked of her that evening, bobbed a quick curtsy and allowed Arabella to continue on alone.

  Relief flooded Arabella as she set foot inside her bedchamber, closed the door behind her and sagged against it. She had, at least, discovered the note that had been lying on Jacob’s desk, the note which she was certain would give her all the answers she required, and yet a part of her did not want to see what was within. It was as though it brought both truth and pain to her, and if she wanted one, she would have to accept both.

  “Oh, Jacob,” she whispered, closing her eyes against the sudden swell of pain. “Who is it that has come into your heart in my place?”

  Tears formed against her closed lids and Arabella forced them back with an effort. She was not about to start wailing now, not when she was so close to finding out the truth. What she was going to do with the note thereafter, she was not at all certain, given that the butler would tell Jacob that she had been not only present in the house but also within his study. It would not take Jacob all that long to work out that it had been she who had taken the note from the desk. What would he do then?

  Letting out a shuddering breath, Arabella opened her eyes and lifted her chin, even though she was alone. She would need every ounce of strength within herself for the next few minutes.

  Taking out the note from her pocket, Arabella spread it out on her dressing table, smoothing out the crinkles until the words became clearer. She did not yet let herself read it, drawing in a breath in an attempt to steady her shaking nerves. Closing her eyes, Arabella pushed her sadness down from within herself, trying to find the strength and courage to do what she must.

  Finally, she looked back at the note, her heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes read the words slowly, her breath beginning to quicken with each word that she read. This was not at all what she had expected.

  A sheen of sweat covered her forehead as she read the letter again and again, both horrified and relieved in equal measure. Jacob did not care for another. It was not as though he had rejected her because of his lack of love for her, nor because he did not wish to make her his bride. It was, in fact, because he had no other choice. To be forced to decide between your love and your sister was a terrible choice indeed, and Arabella felt nothing but sympathy for his dilemma.

  Tears sprang to her eyes and she did not pause to wipe them away. Her relief was so great that it almost overwhelmed her, flooding every single part of her being. There was still a future for herself and Jacob, there was still hope that she might yet be his bride, if only they could find a way to protect Sara. She was not at all sure of the specifics of the threat which lingered over Sara’s reputation or future, but she was quite sure that Jacob had agonised over what to do and, for that, she found her admiration of him growing all the more. How much he must have struggled over what he was to do, how much it must have pained him to come to some sort of a decision!

  Frowning to herself, Arabella read the note once more, only to realise that it was not signed. Was that the reason for the blue ribbon? Was it so that the note did not require a seal so that the gentleman responsible – for she presumed it to be a gentleman – did not have to reveal his identity? Was it so that, should the note fall into the wrong hands, there could be no proof, other than Jacob’s word, of who had written it?

  Her sharp mind began to work furiously, reading the note yet again and then reminding herself of the note that Jacob h
ad written her, the note that begged her not to return to Lord Winchester. Why did he fear that she would? And how would Lord Winchester know that she was now free of her attachment to Jacob, if neither she nor Jacob had any particular acquaintance with the gentleman?

  Her eyes slid closed, her breath being chased away for a moment with the shock of what she had only just realised. It was none other than Lord Winchester who had written this note. Lord Winchester was the gentleman determined to bring an end to her and Jacob’s happiness.

  Anger flared in her chest. Lord Winchester had not given her up as he had stated, but instead had chased after her, and was now apparently quite determined to have Jacob give her up, using any means he could to do so. Was Lord Winchester really so cruel? Did he truly see her as his own, even though she had cried off from their engagement? Arabella shuddered violently, recalling the anger in Lord Winchester’s eyes when she had turned her back on him, ignoring his demands that she remain as his betrothed. Lord Winchester had obviously been unable to accept the ending of their engagement, had been unable to manage the whispers and rumours which had come with her crying off, and was apparently now determined to rectify the situation. He still saw Arabella as his ‘property’ and was not about to let her go. She could almost feel his fingers digging into her skin, his hot breath on her neck as he tried to haul her back towards him.

  Lord Winchester was not a gentleman. It was now quite obvious that he had somehow been behind the attempt to ruin Miss Halesworthy and, given the note, was furious that Jacob had done all he could to ensure that Miss Halesworthy remained untouched by disgrace. In doing such a noble thing, Jacob had succeeded in bringing Lord Winchester’s ire down upon him all the more heavily.

  “Why did you not tell me, Jacob?” she murmured, letting her fingers trace over the letter. “Why did you not speak to me of this? Was the threat really so great?” In her heart, Arabella realised that it was, mayhap, this threat of danger towards either herself or Sara that had kept Jacob from sharing a single word of what he was enduring. How wretched he must feel! How broken and torn over what he had done! She did not hold it against him. No, instead, Arabella found herself wanting nothing more than to go to him, to tell him that she knew precisely what had occurred and that she did not want him to continue on alone with such distress. She wanted to wrap her arms about him, to rest her head on his chest and to tell him that they would struggle through this together.

  “Tomorrow,” she whispered to herself, a smile on her face as tears began to fall from her lashes. “Tomorrow, Jacob. Your torment will be over soon.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “My lord?”

  Jacob groaned, rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. “No. I am not to be disturbed,” he muttered, hating that he was, in fact, being dragged from what had been a somewhat peaceful slumber. He had not retired to bed until dawn, given the fact that his mind was still tormented by what he had done and the terrible choice he had been forced to make, and he longed to remain asleep, where he might no longer have to think of it all.

  “I do apologise my lord, but you have a visitor. She has been waiting a full hour.”

  Jacob groaned again. “I will not see any visitors today.”

  “Lady Arabella will not be moved, my lord,” the butler said, as a footman set down a breakfast tray by Jacob’s bed. “She is currently in conversation with your sister and it is she who has sent me to wake you.”

  Screwing up his face, Jacob allowed the pain to surface all over again, knowing that he could not see Arabella. Not this morning, not when he was in such torment.

  “Send her away,” he said, a little more loudly. “I will not see her today.”

  The butler cleared his throat. “I shall inform her that you are not available today, my lord. Do forgive me for disturbing you.”

  Jacob said nothing. Instead, he waited until the door had closed behind the footman and the butler before burying his face back into the pillows, agony twisting his features. He did not want to be apart from Arabella and yet he had made the only choice he could, the choice that separated them forever. Why had she returned to him now? Had she read the note he had sent her last evening about Lord Winchester, and had come to speak to him further? There was nothing more he had to say to her. He could not tell her why he was so certain that Lord Winchester would soon be at her door but could only beg of her to remain determined to stay away from the gentleman.

  Closing his eyes tightly, Jacob rolled onto his back and let himself sink into his bed a little more. He was not one for lingering abed, but the sheer weight of guilt and pain was almost too much to bear. Silently, Jacob decided that he might remain within his bedchamber, just for one day. Just until the pain began to lift from him, even just a little.

  Another scratch at the door and then the butler stepped in.

  “What is it now?” Jacob exclaimed, exasperated. “I thought I told you to –”

  “Lady Arabella wished me to inform you that she seeks to return Lord Winchester’s note to you,” the butler said, bowing at the waist in evident understanding that he was frustrating Jacob by his mere presence. “And Lady Arabella also wished me to state that she would be lingering in the house and with your sister until you can see her.” Lifting his head, the butler shot Jacob an apologetic look, although there was a slight gleam in his eye that told Jacob that the butler was rather enjoying Arabella’s determination. “Your sister also has made it quite plain that she will sit with Lady Arabella all day, if she must.”

  Jacob shook his head, slammed one hand over his eyes and bit back another groan. Why was Arabella so determined to see him? What could possibly…

  “Wait.”

  He sat up, only just realising what the butler had said. Fear curled through his belly, sending waves all through him. “Did you say that Lady Arabella wants to return the note that Lord Winchester sent me?”

  The butler nodded, although he did not appear to understand the significance. “Yes, my lord.”

  Jacob swallowed hard and pushed himself up a little more, so that he sat back against his pillows. How had Arabella managed to find the note from Lord Winchester? And how did she know that it was from that particular gentleman?

  “Lady Arabella was here last evening, my lord,” the butler continued, slowly. “She had a note for you and stated that it was a matter of urgency.”

  Jacob stared at the man, thoroughly confused. “I was not at home last evening.” He had been forced to attend Lady Martindale’s ball, given that he had already accepted, and so had not been at home for most of the evening.

  “Yes, my lord, I am aware of such a thing,” the butler replied. “Lady Arabella insisted on leaving the note in your study, where she said she was certain you would see it. I did offer to take it from her but she would not have it.”

  Closing his eyes, Jacob forced himself to breathe at a normal pace, realising just what Arabella had done. She must have seen the note and the blue ribbon, believing them to be from another young lady, and had come to seek out the truth she needed. She had needed to know why Jacob had ended their engagement and when he would not tell her, she had done all she could to discover it for herself. It was, of course, just like Arabella to do something like that, given that she was both strong-minded and fiercely determined, but he had never considered that she might have searched his study for the note! She had obviously found it, had then gone on to read it and now understood why he had brought an end to their engagement.

  Which meant he was now quite without excuse – but also that both she and Sara were now in danger of Lord Winchester’s dark ways.

  Throwing back the bedcovers, Jacob planted his feet on the cold floor and shivered.

  “I shall have the footman stoke the fire, my lord,” the butler said, hastily, looking aghast that Jacob was so cold. “I –”

  “You need not concern yourself,” Jacob replied, thinking that he was, most likely, cold due to his lack of sleep and not, in fact, that the summer m
orning was particularly chilly. “I will need my valet and please inform both Lady Arabella and my sister that I shall join them shortly.”

  The butler inclined his head. “At once, my lord.”

  Jacob’s stomach began to swirl as he waited for his valet to appear. He had very little idea of what Arabella thought of him now, of what her considerations were now that she knew the truth of what he had done. Did she think ill of him? Did she think that his actions had been foolish? Or did she have even a modicum of understanding over what he had been forced to endure? A sheen of sweat appeared on his brow, leaving him feeling clammy and ill at ease. What would she say to him when he appeared? What would be lingering in her eyes when she looked at him? He could hardly bear to think of it.

  “Sara. Arabella.”

  Jacob walked into the drawing room to see both Arabella and Sara seated together, a tea tray just to the left of Sara. Evidently, they had been enjoying conversation and company together, although Jacob did not know precisely what Arabella had said to Sara with regard to Lord Winchester.

  “Jacob.”

  Sara did not rise to her feet but looked at him steadily, one eyebrow slowly rising. “I hear that you and Arabella are no longer betrothed,” she continued, as Arabella turned her head to look at him. “Goodness, brother, I did not think you as foolish as all that.”

  Jacob did not know what to say, for the look in Arabella’s eyes was more than enough to unnerve him entirely. Arabella was pale, her dark curls making the whiteness of her cheeks all the more evident, although there was a steadiness in her green eyes that took his breath from him. He could not tell what she was thinking, could not see what it was that she was looking for with her searching gaze, and yet he could find nothing to say that would break the tension that was increasing with every second that passed between them.