by Golden Angel
Internally, Thomas sighed. Of course not.
Left to her own devices, Mary would be perfectly happy clinging to the outskirts of the ballroom like a wallflower. She would certainly be more comfortable. However, doing so would not help her land a husband and that was the purpose of a Season after all.
Unfortunately, it was impossible to tell if she had a preference for any one gentleman. No matter what name his mother put forth to Mary, the young woman blushed furiously.
Suddenly she brightened and Thomas looked up, thinking that perhaps he was wrong about her not having an interest in anyone.
"Look, there's Lady Arabella," Mary said, her voice low but audible and full of relief.
Thomas held back his groan as his eyes moved towards where Mary was looking. Of all the friends his cousin could have made...
Sister of his friend Isaac, the Duke of Manchester, the Lady Arabella was everything he didn't want in a wife. While she was beautiful, quick-witted, a dashing rider, and a witty conversationalist, she was also impetuous, stubborn, and would certainly need just as much reformation as Lady Winifred. Although she was also kind, generous, and friendly, all things which Lady Winifred was not.
This was her second Season and while she had polished herself up a bit, she still remained a hoyden at heart. Hardly an appropriate friend for Mary, and yet Mary was far more comfortable speaking with gentlemen when she had someone more gregarious by her side. Thomas had noted how Arabella in particular was very good at coaxing Mary to converse, as much as it galled him to admit the fact.
His spine stiffened when he caught sight of the duke's sister.
Like her brothers, Arabella had the usual Windham looks—she was rather tall for a lady, with warm hazel eyes, and masses of brown curls which were currently gathered in a complicated hairstyle complete with bobbing bronze feathers. The bronze and copper gown she was wearing was low cut for a debutante, just toeing the line of what was allowed, and showed off a wide expanse of creamy skin above the gold trimmed bodice. The fabric shimmered as she moved, her breasts swelling as she laughed up at the man whose arm she was on.
Hartford.
Again!
This was the second time Thomas had seen her in the scandalous Marquess' company, although the first time she'd dared to do so in public. Immediately his eyes scanned the crowd for the imposing figures of her brothers, shocked that they hadn't already intervened.
Hartford was a legend among the ton, but none of it was flattering. Whispers said he had fought more duels than any other man in Society and had never been injured, that he led a secret society more exclusive and debauched than any other, and that he had a score of mistresses tucked away around London.
The shocking pairing was turning heads, as was to be expected.
The last time he'd seen them together had been on a balcony and she'd been in the company of Lady Christina, now her sister-in-law. Thomas had later learned she'd been trying to intercede on her brother's behalf, ensuring the Marquess didn't have the opportunity to spirit Lady Christina away before Benedict could catch up to them. It had been a foolish move on Arabella's part, but thankfully one which had not resulted in any damage to her reputation—in large part thanks to Thomas arriving and chasing the Marquess away.
It was far too late for him to make any such move now.
She was strolling through the ballroom with him, on his arm, openly laughing and flirting, for everyone to see. Across the room, Ladies Jersey and Cowper had their heads together, whispering behind their fans, but their gazes left no doubt as to the topic of their conversation. Thomas could feel his back teeth grinding together when he couldn't immediately locate either of her brothers or their wives. The ball was already a crush, making it impossible to pick a single person out of the crowd who was more than ten feet away.
"Hello Lady Arabella," Mary said, almost eagerly, causing Thomas to stiffen.
He'd become so distracted he'd stopped paying attention to where Arabella and Hartford were and hadn't realized they'd come so close. Not that he would have expected his normally shy cousin to actually greet someone on her own, even someone she knew.
If she had been greeting anyone else—or if Arabella had been in anyone else's company—he would have been pleased with this sign of new confidence on Mary's part. As it was, he wished she had remained shyly retiring for a while longer. Even if it did make finding her a husband more difficult.
To her credit, Arabella did look a bit hesitant when she saw Mary, but it would have been socially devastating to Mary if she’d ignored the greeting. Even more devastating than being introduced to Hartford, and Thomas knew it although he didn't like it one bit.
"Good evening, Mary," Arabella said, smiling at his cousin with genuine fondness. "Have you just arrived?"
Thomas scowled when he realized she wasn't going to acknowledge him. On the other hand, she wasn't introducing her escort to Mary either. Rude, but only one instance of her ill manners bothered him, and it certainly wasn't the latter.
Even more infuriating, Hartford looked amused rather than disapproving of Arabella blatantly ignoring the social niceties. Damnation where were her brothers?
Casting a quick glance around the ballroom didn't reveal either of their presences, but it did take his attention away from the conversation long enough for Hartford to begin eyeing Mary in a manner which Thomas strenuously disapproved of. Glaring at the Marquess, Thomas pulled Mary slightly closer to him, although she didn't seem to notice. She was obviously too happy to be talking with someone she knew and felt safe with to even notice that Arabella had neglected to introduce her to the man.
The Marquess lifted his unusual yellowish eyes, they were so light amber they often appeared to glow gold, and grinned rakishly at Thomas, not at all bothered by Thomas' blatant disapproval. Then again, despite his normal avoidance of the ton's ballrooms, Hartford's social standing was quite a bit higher than Thomas'. Even with his reputation.
Thomas had the sudden, boorish urge to growl as Hartford adjusted his own arm, pulling Arabella in closer to him the same as Thomas had done with Mary. What in the blazes was Arabella thinking, parading around the ballroom with the gazetted rake, allowing him such familiarity?
Turning his gaze away from Hartford, he glowered at Arabella.
"Where are your brothers?" he asked, interrupting her conversation with Mary. They hadn't gotten beyond the usual banal social niceties anyway.
Finally, Arabella turned her hazel eyes to him but... there was something different about the way she was looking at him. Her gaze seemed somehow chilly. Not that he'd ever thought she looked upon him warmly—normally her expression held both exasperation and amusement in varying measures when they interacted—but now he realized there had been some kind of affection there as well. Affection which was now missing.
"I believe they're by the refreshments," she said, her tone quite different from how she'd just been speaking with Mary. Different from how she usually spoke with him. There was no teasing lilt to the cadence of her words, no sparkle in her eyes, and she looked away from him immediately as the first strains of a waltz sounded in the air. The smile she bestowed on Hartford made Thomas feel like growling all over again for some reason.
"My dance, I believe," Hartford said, smiling down at her like a lazy cat who had been presented with a bowl of cream.
"You believe correctly," Arabella said, flirtatiously, her tone teasing in a manner which grated over Thomas like an out-of-tune violin. He could only imagine he'd become used to acting as one of her protectors when he'd assisted watching over her and Gabrielle last Season. If he could think of a way to separate her from Hartford's arm, he would, but he was at a loss until he could speak with her brothers. Attempting to do so now, with Mary on his arm, would likely cause a scene and do neither himself nor his cousin any favors. Arabella smiled at Mary. "It was lovely to see you again, Mary, I hope we can speak more later this evening."
Then she turned away on the Marquess’ arm, m
oving with him towards the dance floor and Thomas felt his chest tighten with a kind of anger. He didn't even know why he was so upset. Arabella wasn't his responsibility, not even nominally as her brother's had not requested his assistance tonight. They hadn't needed much help this Season, really, although obviously Arabella's improved behavior had come to an end.
"Thomas? What's wrong?" Mary asked, looking up at him anxiously, her green eyes filled with worry.
"Nothing," he said tersely. "Come, I want to speak with Isaac and then we can find you someone to dance with."
He was so focused on making his way to Arabella's eldest brother, he didn't notice the face his cousin made.
******
That had been excessively awkward.
Engaging with Mary while ensuring the innocent debutante did not receive a formal introduction to Hartford and simultaneously trying to both ignore and gauge Thomas' reaction to seeing her on Hartford's arm... Arabella didn't think her social skills had ever been so taxed. Fortunately, Hartford was a remarkably observant man and had obviously seen her strain and created an excuse for them to leave.
He had also thoughtfully not sought an introduction to Mary.
When the Marquess had appeared on the doorstep of Manchester House last week, their upright butler, Rigby, had nearly fainted. After all, admitting a man such as Hartford was tantamount to inviting scandal into the house, and yet one did not turn away a Marquess. Even one as notorious as Hartford. He'd practically been stammering when he'd sought out Isaac to announce the Marquess, and Isaac had immediately ensconced the other man in his study.
Overcome with curiosity, Arabella had positioned herself at the door of the study as soon as her brother had closed it behind him. She couldn’t imagine what would bring Hartford out for an afternoon call to Isaac, unless her brother had been behaving very out-of-character recently. Since her brothers were often determined to protect her from, well, everything, it was up to her to ensure she wasn't a mushroom (kept in the dark and not fed a word she wasn't supposed to know).
To her shock, the Marquess was calling to speak with her brother about her.
A formal declaration of interest and request to court her.
Arabella had nearly toppled over from shock.
The Marquess of Hartford, the most scandalous man in Society, wanted to marry her?! Her first reaction was a slight feeling of triumph, because she knew the Marquess had no need for her dowry or her social position. If he wanted to court her, it was because she had caught his interest.
Then she'd felt a dip in her stomach as she'd realized she'd probably done so because of the brash behavior Thomas had accused her of. If she hadn't interrupted Hartford's conversation with Christina, who was now Arabella's sister-in-law, a few weeks ago, she likely would never have come to the Marquess' attention. She'd pushed away the pang of her broken heart, something she'd become quite adept at doing, and realized the Marquess' offer appealed to her immensely.
Firstly, it was a sop to her wounded pride and confidence to realize such a man—who could probably have any woman he desired—wanted her for herself. Not despite of the flaws Thomas had so succinctly used to declare her unsuitable, but because of them.
Secondly, she could only imagine how Thomas would grate his teeth, seeing her on the Marquess’ arm. Especially once she introduced Gabrielle to the man. The connection between their families was such that Thomas wouldn't be able to avoid Hartford's company entirely if she was being formally courted by him.
And thirdly, she did find the Marquess rather exciting. He was an attractive man with the kind of presence which drew attention. Arabella was also intrigued by his reputation. Yet she didn't think she was in any danger of falling in love with him.
Still, if she did decide to marry him, she was certain they would be great friends, which was more than the majority of loveless matches among the ton could boast. After having her character and behavior so thoroughly torn about by the man she'd lost her heart to, she wasn't particularly interested in a love match anymore, anyway. While she was inherently possessive enough to admit she didn't particularly like the idea of sharing her husband with a mistress or other women, she also thought her natural acquisitiveness could be balanced out by having her own lovers.
As a married woman, she'd be able to cross many of the lines she had to toe as a debutante and she had a feeling a man like Hartford wouldn't be at all interested in pulling her back.
The idea appealed on many levels.
So when a grim-faced Isaac came to speak with her about Hartford's proposal, she'd already thought through the many implications and decided she wanted to allow him to court her. Her brother had tried to talk her out of it, but his attempt had been rather pathetic, and he had eventually admitted that he liked how Hartford had approached him formally and avowed his sincere admiration for Arabella.
"I don't believe he's looking for a love match," Isaac had cautioned her, eyeing her with something like resignation. "But he thinks the two of you will suit, and he seems to appreciate your more... outrageous antics."
Isaac's words had proved very true.
She and Hartford had had several very frank discussions in the past week, and, as Arabella had thought, they were becoming fast friends. The Marquess' Christian name was Michael but he preferred to be called Hartford or 'Rex'—a nickname which he promised to eventually explain. Arabella obliged, not in the least because it created that touch of necessary distance between them. At this juncture, she preferred not to become too intimate emotionally.
Looking down at her as he gathered her into his arms for a waltz, his unusual eyes seemed to pierce her, seeing more of her emotions than she wished. He was obnoxiously observant, although unlike many men of her acquaintance he rarely commented on his observations. But he watched everyone and everything with eyes like a hawk, and when he focused on her it sent shivers up and down her spine.
"I don't believe Hood approves of my presence here," Hartford said, his voice tinged with amusement.
"He can't expect to control someone else's guest list," she responded back, a bit tartly. It was a struggle not to turn her head to see where Thomas had hied off to, but she managed it.
A smirk tilted Hartford's mobile lips, drawing Arabella's attention. She'd discovered she quite liked being kissed by a man who knew what he was about—and Hartford was certainly a very good kisser. Sadly, his kisses hadn't made her forget Thomas, but they had certainly helped her to feel better about her broken heart.
"I meant my presence on your arm," he said, studying her.
Arabella gave him an icy stare back, completely unintimidated by his domineering personality—which he claimed was one of the things he liked about her. "I seriously doubt Lord Hood cares one whit whose gentleman's arm I claim."
The little smile which curved Hartford's lips made her want to smack him.
"I see I have a rival," he murmured.
She narrowed her eyes at him, pressing her lips together in a firm line. "Only if you're intending to abandon me to chase after Miss Bliss."
Startled, Hartford coughed out a horrified laugh, which made her grin as her mood lightened. He'd obviously either met or heard of the debutante in question. Truthfully, Miss Bliss was quite beautiful and sweet, with an easy personality. Arabella's only problem with the young woman, was her name at the top of Thomas' list for potential brides.
"I was actually introduced to the young lady," Hartford admitted, giving Arabella a rakish grin and wink. "She nearly fainted when I made my bow."
Giggling, Arabella grinned impishly back up at him. "Is that the usual reaction you incite in debutantes? It is a bit belated, but I could faint now if you wish. I would hate to ruin your reputation by appearing indifferent to your awesome presence."
"Bollocks," he said, delighting her as he always did when he cursed in her hearing. While he never did so when they or her sisters-in-law were about, he obviously realized Arabella's pleasure in his coarse language and often indulged when t
hey couldn't be overheard. "I'd much rather we scandalize the ton together."
"That does sound more fun," she agreed.
******
Glaring across the ballroom, Thomas shook his head.
"I don't believe it," he said stoutly. "It must be some trick he has up his sleeve."
Beside him, Isaac stirred. If Thomas had paid the slightest whit of attention to his friend, he would realize how annoyed Isaac was becoming. On his arm, Mary was certainly aware and eyed the increasingly irate Duke of Manchester with trepidation.
"Your poor opinion of my sister notwithstanding, she's a matrimonial catch even without her social position and dowry."
The aggressive edge of Isaac's tone finally speared through Thomas' distraction, and he realized what his statement must have sounded like to Arabella's brother. Blinking, he turned his attention away from the ballroom floor, and realized both his cousin and Lydia were looking at him with reproach as well.
"I don't have a poor opinion of your sister," Thomas said frowning. "I meant that Hartford isn't the marrying type."
Isaac raised a sardonic eyebrow. "All evidence to the contrary. And, I assume that like of the rest of us, Hartford desires an heir. Arabella caught his attention."
The thought that Hartford saw Arabella as nothing but a broodmare made Thomas bristle... but sense reasserted itself as he glanced at the dance floor again and saw the man smiling down at Arabella. Perhaps his aim was a wife and heir, in that order, but he'd decided to court Arabella because she actually appealed to him.
"He's all wrong for her," Thomas muttered. Arabella didn't need a walking scandal like Hartford. The man was certainly no pushover, but he would be amused by her wilder starts and it was highly unlikely he would provide her with the kind of guiding hand she needed. He might even encourage her to scandalous behavior.
"I believe that's for Arabella to decide," Isaac said censoriously.
Thomas hesitated to respond, realizing he'd spoken poorly of Arabella in front of Isaac often enough that her brother had obviously taken offense, but he wasn't quite sure how to make things right. It wasn't that he disliked her or was blind to the multitude of attractive qualities she possessed—not at all—but despite her many charms she was not at all what he wanted for a wife. And Isaac had mentioned her name whenever Thomas talked of his search for a bride far too many times.
