To Pleasure a Lady

Chapter Nine

I never expected to be grateful to the earl, but I truly am.

– Arabella to Fanny

The next several days passed in a whirl for Arabella. Every available moment was filled with dress fittings and unexpected visitors in addition to ongoing house renovations and her usual classes at the academy.

To her astonishment, she began receiving calls from many of her hitherto disdainful neighbors. The first to appear were Sir Alfred and Lady Perry, who came the very next afternoon to issue a personal invitation to their ball.

Her ladyship practically fell all over herself welcoming the new Earl of Danvers to the neighborhood before she turned to Arabella. “We would be delighted, Miss Loring, if you and your charming sisters could join us for our ball,” Lady Perry declared with an enthusiasm that was obviously feigned, since she had always cut the Loring sisters dead whenever they chanced to meet in public.

Arabella refrained from grinding her teeth at the hypocrisy and instead smiled serenely and returned a gracious thank-you.

But because Sir Alfred was the highly respected magistrate of the district and his wife the acknowledged leader of local society, they set the example for the rest of the neighborhood.

Of course, Arabella knew, none of the gentry dared defy a nobleman of Lord Danvers’s rank and consequence, yet it was Marcus’s irresistible charm that made them eager to ingratiate themselves. Arabella was frankly awed by his ability to manipulate people into doing his bidding. She watched as time after time he had their callers lapping up his every word. And after the first two days, she no longer had any doubts that his efforts to restore the Loring sisters’ social status would be successful.

Since he’d begun conducting his daily affairs from Danvers Hall, Marcus also had numerous visitors of his own, mainly business acquaintances-his solicitors, his estate steward from his family seat in Devonshire, and most frequently, his secretary.

Surprisingly, his secretary brought daily reports on matters concerning the House of Lords. Arabella discovered the fact when Marcus had to travel to London one morning to vote on the latest bill before the House.

When she expressed surprise that he followed the politics of the day, Marcus shrugged amiably. “My conversion to politics has been fairly recent. My good friend Drew-the Duke of Arden-wrenched my arm and convinced me I should take an interest. Drew’s theory is that with privilege comes the responsibility of governing.”

The revelation gave Arabella food for thought. She had little familiarity with governmental affairs. Her step-uncle had never taken his seat in Parliament, although she knew that both he and her father had been conservative Tories rather than liberal Whigs, as Marcus professed to be. But it made her realize there was indeed more substance to Marcus than she had ever imagined.

What surprised Arabella most, however, was that he made no more overt physical overtures toward her. Oh, he still required her to spend their allotted time together in intimate dinners, but his lessons in passion had subsided entirely. Oddly, Arabella’s relief at the respite was accompanied by an unmistakable disappointment; she had begun to eagerly anticipate the sensual duel of wits between them that usually ended with her flushed and feverish. Yet Marcus never attempted even so much as a kiss.

Instead, after dinner, he usually read aloud to her, or she played the pianoforte and sang. Sometimes they indulged in banter, but more often they simply talked.

He told her about his upbringing, which was typical for sons of the British aristocracy. He’d been relegated from birth into the care of nursemaids, then tutors, before being shipped off to boarding school, and from there, university. He’d seen little of his parents while growing up, since they preferred the delights of London over the country estate of the Barons Pierce in Devonshire, where Marcus had spent the first eight years of his life.

He’d had no close friends until Eton, when he met Andrew Moncrief, the future Duke of Arden, and Heath Griffin, who would eventually become the Marquess of Claybourne. From the tales Marcus told her, Arabella had the picture of a lonely young boy who’d suddenly experienced the joy of finding “brothers” as adventuresome and reckless and outrageous as he was.

“What of your younger sister?” Arabella asked. “Eleanor is her name, I believe you said?”

Marcus smiled at the mention of his sister. “Eleanor came along unexpectedly ten years after I was born, after I had already left home for Eton. But I saw her whenever I returned on holiday. From the very first, she managed to wrap us all around her finger-Drew and Heath as well.”

His expression softened visibly when he spoke of his sister, his stories an indication of their genuine fondness for each other.

He was so forthright in his accounts of his youth that when Marcus questioned her about her own childhood, Arabella answered as honestly, telling him things she had shared with few people other than her sisters and her close friends.

During her girlhood, her family had resided in London each Season and the Loring estate in Hampshire the rest of the year. But no matter the setting, their parents fought bitterly. While in the country, she and her sisters fled out of doors as much as possible, which had resulted in the three of them becoming enthusiastic walkers and excellent riders. And when they were in London, they eagerly escaped into their studies as a distraction from the vitriolic atmosphere Victoria and Charles Loring had fostered.

“Roslyn became downright bookish,” Arabella confessed with a fond smile. “She was fascinated by the newest methods of scientific investigation and actually taught herself Latin. But even Lily turned to books for solace. She would pour over historical and geological tomes while dreaming of exploring the world in search of adventure…which of course is impossible, given her sex and social station as a baronet’s daughter.”

“And what of you?” Marcus asked curiously. “Did you keep your lovely nose buried in books?”

“Yes, but not to the extent Roslyn did. And I found my greatest diversion in literature and poetry, not science.”

“If your parents disliked each other so violently,” Marcus was curious to know, “why did they not simply go their separate ways?”

Arabella had wondered the same thing countless times. “I am not certain. I think they simply took pleasure in hurting each other, perhaps out of revenge for their own misery. My mother once confessed that she had fallen in love with my father shortly after they wed, but the feeling wasn’t reciprocated, and his infidelities destroyed any chance her affection might have lasted.”

“Then I suppose it’s only logical,” Marcus said slowly, “that you developed an aversion to unions of convenience.”

“I am glad you finally understand,” Arabella replied, managing a light tone.

“That doesn’t mean you are a hopeless cause, however,” he mused. “I won’t give up trying to persuade you just yet.”

Arabella knew very well Marcus wouldn’t give up his pursuit of her until one of them won the wager. He was determined to wed her because he wanted a genteel wife to bear him heirs-although his courtship had definitely changed since the day of their picnic. It was as if he was giving their friendship a chance to catch up to their physical relationship.

She suspected it was a patiently calculated strategy to undermine her resistance. If so, she had to admit it was effective. In truth, she enjoyed the quiet evenings she spent with him. During the day, the house was overrun with modistes and workmen who needed her approval, and with illustrious callers who required her polite attention, so the peace was welcome after the hectic pace of the day. But it was Marcus himself who made the interludes so enjoyable.

He seemed to find them enjoyable as well, and he said as much the last evening before the ball. A comfortable silence had fallen between them as they took tea together in the drawing room while outside a late spring storm spent its fury.

“This is remarkably pleasant,” Marcus commented lazily, stretching his long, lithe legs out toward the cheerfully crackling hearth fire. “We might as well be an old wedded couple.” Then his amused smile flashed at Arabella. “Although if we were indeed wed, you would not be sleeping alone each night.”

Arabella felt her cheeks flush at his suggestive remark. This was more like the Marcus she had first come to know. For the past three nights when she retired for bed, he had given her nothing more than a chaste kiss on her fingertips. But even that mild caress had her skin tingling, and she lay awake each night thinking of him, remembering the startling pleasure he had given her the afternoon of their picnic and wondering when he would attempt any repetition.

It would not be tonight, Arabella realized a half hour later, for all he did was wish her sweet dreams, without so much as touching her hand.

His tame dismissal left her strangely dissatisfied-until she scolded herself and resolved to focus her energies on tomorrow’s ball rather than on the provoking Earl of Danvers.

The next afternoon Arabella ended her labors on the house early in order to dress for the important event. She and Marcus were to take his carriage to Tess’s house to collect Roslyn and Lily and Tess and escort them all to the ball.

Since he had hired an abigail to look after Arabella’s wardrobe and to help her dress, it took her less time than usual to bathe and arrange her hair and don her ball gown. When she studied herself in the cheval glass, she was quite satisfied with her appearance.

Her new abigail, Nan, was more effusive. “Oh, Miss, yer a breathtaking sight!”

Her gown was indeed an exquisite confection-silver net over emerald sarcenet that set off her gray eyes and red-gold hair, while the moderately low decolletage and puffed sleeves exposed a fashionable amount of skin.

She was about to go downstairs when Marcus surprised her by sending up a footman bearing a velvet jeweler’s box, which contained a delicate emerald necklace and matching earbobs. Arabella hesitated at first to accept such an expensive gift, even though it wasn’t improper between guardian and ward. But when Nan cooed over the jewels, she relented enough to try them on and discovered they embellished her gown perfectly.

Marcus seemed to agree, for when she joined him in the drawing room, he stared at her for a long moment before offering her a devastating smile. “That lovely gown and necklace almost does you justice.”

“You should not have gone to such expense,” Arabella remarked, hiding her flush at his flattery.

“Of course I should have. It was entirely my pleasure.”

Marcus himself looked irresistibly handsome in black-and-white evening clothes, and Arabella was keenly aware of him as he helped her on with her satin wrap and then escorted her to his carriage. As they drove the short distance to Tess’s house, however, she distracted herself by reviewing for him the names and ranks and relationships of the guests he was likely to encounter at the ball, some of whom had already called at Danvers Hall to make his acquaintance and scrutinize her.

Her sisters and her friend were awaiting them with varying degrees of eagerness, Arabella discovered when they were admitted to the house.

Tess was definitely the most sanguine about attending this evening’s ball. She was always welcomed at assemblies and balls, for despite her lack of significant fortune, her birth and breeding were exceptional. And since her mother’s family hailed from nearby Richmond, Tess was a great favorite with the older matrons and dowagers in the district.

Roslyn, who looked stunningly beautiful in her new evening finery, maintained an appearance of cool detachment, but Arabella suspected she was keenly hoping the evening turned out well. Roslyn stood the most to gain from their reinstatement, since she was not quite ready to abandon the prospect of having a husband and children someday. And after the mortification of being offered several shameful propositions by various rakes and reprobates, she was more willing than her sisters to accept their new guardian’s protection and support.

Lily, Arabella knew, had no desire to associate with any of the disdainful arbiters of the haute ton. Yet even Lily understood how momentous this evening could be to their futures. Thankfully, she had agreed not only to attend, but to make an effort to be charming and ladylike.

“You promised to exhibit no trace of the hoyden tonight, remember, Lily?” Arabella reminded her as Marcus helped the ladies on with their cloaks and wraps.

Lily gave a droll smile. “I remember. You needn’t worry, Belle. I would not have endured all those excruciating fittings or primped for hours this afternoon if I planned to spoil our big night.”

“Well, the result is splendid.”

Lily dimpled before twirling around in her new apparel. “We do look elegant, don’t we?”

Arabella had to laugh. While Lilian felt more at home in a shabby old riding habit, she was feminine enough to appreciate a beautiful gown.

Arabella was as pleased with her sisters’ ball gowns as she was with her own. Roslyn wore elegant white lace over deep rose silk that set off her fair delicacy, while Lily sparkled in gold-shot tissue over pale gold crepe that accented her vivid coloring. Dark-haired Tess looked just as lovely in lilac lustring, even though her gown was two Seasons old.

When Marcus complimented all the ladies on their appearance, however, Lily’s lively good humor disappeared to be replaced by wary politeness as he escorted them out to his carriage.

During the drive, the conversation was amiable enough, with Tess and Marcus upholding most of the discussion. Roslyn was unusually quiet, Arabella noticed. And by the time the carriage drew up before the brightly lit Perry mansion, Arabella herself had developed an unexpected case of nerves. When she felt Tess squeeze her hand in sympathy, she gave her friend a grateful smile and then steeled her spine for the ordeal ahead.

She needn’t have worried, Arabella quickly realized. The reception she and her sisters were given by their hosts and the other guests was beyond anything she could have hoped for-all because of Marcus. Judging by the excessive toadying and bowing and scraping the company did for his benefit, one would have thought the Prince Regent himself had appeared in their midst. What a difference his sponsorship made!

Lady Freemantle noticed also, and told Marcus so at the first opportunity, during a lull before the dancing began.

“ ’Tis commendable, the interest you are taking in your wards, Lord Danvers,” Winifred said, beaming at him in approval.

Standing beside him, Arabella saw Marcus acknowledge the praise with a slight bow. “It is only my duty, my lady.”

Winifred snorted. “A pity your predecessor didn’t share your sentiments. If Lionel had put out the least bit of effort, his nieces would have had far easier a time of it. Maybe even weathered the scandals their mama and papa incited.”

“His neglect was criminal,” Marcus agreed. “But I shall do my best to rectify it.”

Winifred suddenly gave Arabella a sharp glance. “You should appreciate his lordship, my girl. Your success is now assured.”

Just then, Lady Freemantle was hailed by one of her cronies, and she turned away, leaving Arabella alone with Marcus, since her sisters and Tess had drifted off earlier to speak to some other guests.

“I agree, you should appreciate me,” Marcus said, amused.

Arabella couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, I most certainly do…especially for my sisters’ sake.”

“And what about your own?”

Her expression turned thoughtful as she considered his question. “I am indeed grateful, of course. But surprisingly, the prospect of being reestablished in this illustrious company”-she waved a hand at the crowded ballroom-“doesn’t mean as much as I thought it would. I learned to live without the ton’s approval for the past four years, and I suspect I can do without it in the future. But for Roslyn and Lily…I truly do thank you, Marcus.”

Their gazes locked for a long moment, before Arabella managed to tear hers away from his unexpectedly tender one.

“Will you honor me with the first set?” Marcus said, changing the subject.

She shook her head. “Thank you, but I planned to remain on the sidelines tonight with the widows and spinsters as usual. The teachers at the Freemantle Academy are expected to behave with proper decorum and to set a good example for our young ladies.”

It was Marcus’s turn to shake his head. “It is not improper to dance with your guardian. And you aren’t here tonight as a teacher. You are here as Miss Loring of Danvers Hall, the ward of an earl.” When Arabella hesitated, Marcus prodded her. “Come, admit it, you would enjoy dancing.”

“Well, yes…I would. But it should not be the first set. Lady Perry will be heartbroken if you don’t lead her out, since you are the highest ranking guest of honor.”

“The first waltz, then.”

Again Arabella hesitated. She had never danced a waltz with anyone but the academy’s dancing master. Once considered scandalous because of the couple’s intimate embrace, the waltz had not been introduced from the Continent until two years after her betrothal ended. And the prospect of being held so closely in Marcus’s arms worried her a little.

As if he could read her mind, Marcus raised a challenging eyebrow. “Are you being missish again, love? Surely you aren’t afraid to waltz with me in public?”

Naturally Arabella couldn’t resist his dare, as he doubtless intended. “Certainly I am not afraid. Very well, the first waltz. But I hope you will dance with my sisters as well.”

“Of course, I intend to.”

Arabella smiled sweetly. “Then as long as you are being so gallant, my lord…” From the sleeve of her glove, she drew out a small scrap of paper. “This is a list of our academy’s pupils who will be attending tonight. Perhaps you will be so kind as to ask them also.”

Marcus took the list and scrutinized it with amusement. “A half dozen simpering young ladies. You are all damned heart, trying to palm me off on your pupils.”

Arabella’s smile widened. “I am only thinking of their feelings. They will be thrilled to be singled out for your attention.”

There was a gleam of laughter in his eye. “You realize this hardly falls under the rules of ‘fair play.’”

She raised an eyebrow herself. “I seem to recall you have bent the rules more than once in your own favor, Marcus. And I do still have a wager to win, if you recall. Who knows? One of our young ladies might sweep you off your feet and convince you to abandon your courtship of me.”

Her teasing reply made him laugh. “Very well, vixen, as long as you recognize what lengths I’m willing to go to in order to curry your favor. But I will take you and your sisters into supper later.”

“Certainly. We would be honored.”

If Marcus was reluctant to dance with their hostess, Lady Perry, he gave no indication but soon went in search of her.

Arabella was about to take her usual place on the sidelines with the chaperones when Winifred sailed up to her with an elderly gentleman in tow, whom she introduced as a desirable dance partner. Thankfully, when the orchestra prepared to strike up the opening cotillion, Winifred abandoned her obvious attempts at matchmaking and instead sought out the card tables in the nearby parlor while Arabella took the floor with her partner.

After that she danced with four different gentlemen, and she was gratified that her sisters found suitable partners as well. Their popularity was a far cry from what they’d been accustomed to the past four years.

And then it came time for her waltz with Marcus. Arabella felt a nervous flutter in her stomach as he led her onto the floor and drew her into the proper stance-one hand clasping hers, the other pressed lightly at her waist.

Being held in his embrace was as unsettling as she expected, but her nerves melted a little when Marcus swept her into the lilting rhythm of the waltz.

“You are a remarkably good dancer,” Arabella praised him after a moment.

He smiled down at her. “I am gratified you think so. You are quite remarkable yourself.”

A warm flush washed over her, making her feel almost light-headed. For a long moment as their gazes held, the rest of the world faded away and only the two of them existed. Eventually, however, the music came to an end.

Arabella was oddly sorry when Marcus bowed to her and turned her over to yet another gentleman. And admittedly, every subsequent dance afterward seemed rather flat to her. Being with Marcus, she had felt almost…jubilant.

Then again, Arabella reminded herself, he had that effect on a good number of people, especially the female population. For the next hour, she watched Marcus work his charm on the company. He dutifully danced with every one of her pupils and awed their wealthy parents, much to her gratitude. Such rare attentiveness from an earl would highly benefit her academy, Arabella knew. But the female guests fawned all over him not simply because of his rank and stature but because he was so charismatic and compelling.

He secured a second dance each with Roslyn and Lily, also. It was interesting to watch her sisters’ reactions toward Marcus. Roslyn treated him with thoughtful reserve, while Lily was unusually cool. Yet both clearly understood the extraordinary effort he was making on their behalf tonight, as did Arabella.

It had been something of a revelation for her earlier when Marcus had made her question her feelings about her newfound acceptance. The ton’s approval was not so very important to her now, she was surprised to realize. She was supremely grateful for her sisters’ sake, though. Particularly Roslyn.

After the virtual destruction of their lives four years ago, they each had responded differently: Arabella had become fiercely set on gaining independence. Lily had rebelled outright. And Roslyn had vowed to make her own fate rather than becoming some wealthy gentleman’s mistress.

Roslyn’s alluring beauty enchanted men of all types, and out of sheer self-defense, she’d become expert at warding off the pestering advances of unsuitable admirers. It warmed Arabella’s heart, therefore, to see the legitimate attention her sister was receiving just now from one of their noble neighbors, Rayne Kenyon, the Earl of Haviland.

Lord Haviland was the black sheep of his family who had unexpectedly inherited the title earlier this year. His dark, dangerous looks were a perfect foil for Roslyn’s delicate fairness. But despite the fact that they appeared opposites, Arabella suspected that Roslyn had developed a secret tendre for the earl. Her lovely cheeks were flushed now with animation as she conversed with him.

Arabella’s delight in seeing her sister’s happiness, however, abruptly faded when she recognized the fashionable young buck who had just sauntered up to Roslyn.

Despite his relative youth, Mr. Jasper Onslow was dangerous to any lady’s reputation. A rake and a wastrel who urgently needed to marry a fortune, Onslow was one of the scoundrels who had propositioned Roslyn barely three months ago, offering to set her up as his mistress in a cozy love nest in London.

That he dared approach Roslyn now had Arabella bristling with anger and outrage. She had just started across the ballroom floor to intervene when Lord Haviland said something to Onslow that sent the blackguard packing. In response, Roslyn bestowed such a breathtaking smile of gratitude on his lordship that he went completely still, clearly captivated by her expression.

Halting her needless attempt at rescue, Arabella breathed a sigh of relief and muttered “Thank heavens” under her breath.

“Why are you so thankful?” Marcus asked curiously at her shoulder.

With a start, Arabella turned to glance up at him. “Oh, no particular reason,” she replied quickly, not wanting to trouble him further with her sisters’ affairs.

But he evidently had seen some of the interchange involving Roslyn, for his perceptive gaze lingered on her thoughtfully before returning to Arabella. “You will let me know if she needs my help?”

At his kindness, Arabella felt her heart twist with an odd little ache. “I will, thank you. Fortunately, your assistance appears unnecessary at the moment.”

Marcus nodded, apparently willing to let the matter drop. “It is time for supper,” he said instead. “Shall we collect your sisters and proceed to the buffet?”

When he offered his arm, Arabella willingly took it.

The fare proved delicious, with expensive delicacies such as lobster patties and meringues that the Loring sisters rarely enjoyed. Lady Freemantle and Tess joined their table, so Marcus had five ladies on his hands. Arabella would have invited Lord Haviland to eat with them, except that he had already taken his leave of the ball. Roslyn’s private smile, however, suggested that her evening had turned out better than she could have hoped.

Their party was surprisingly jovial, since Winifred kept them entertained with tales of her late husband and Marcus did likewise with stories about the sporting exploits he and the Duke of Arden and the Marquess of Claybourne indulged in. By the time supper concluded, Arabella was feeling a pleasant little glow that had more to do with seeing her sisters genuinely happy for the first time in years than with the warmth of the night or the costly wine she had drunk.

When Marcus escorted her back to the ballroom, however, she came up short, for she had suddenly spied Jasper Onslow again. This time he was showering his attention on her most vexing pupil, Sybil Newstead. From all appearances, Sybil was flirting outrageously with him.

Quickly Arabella glanced around the ballroom, searching for the girl’s chaperone, who was nowhere in sight.

Just then Sybil turned and slipped out the French doors that led to the terrace, with Onslow following behind her a moment later.

“Oh, my word,” Arabella muttered in dismay.

“What is wrong?” Marcus asked.

“Sybil has just disappeared outside alone with a gazetted rake. Her father will have an apoplectic fit if his precious child is allowed to become the target of a fortune hunter.”

She began moving toward the doors, but Marcus detained her with a hand on her arm. “So why is that your concern?”

She eyed him in exasperation. “If it happens while under our care, Mr. Newstead will blame us for negligence and will likely withdraw Sybil from the academy-and other parents could follow suit.” Arabella glanced impatiently at the French doors. “That irksome chit has very little sense, but I must save her from herself. I cannot let her ruin herself or our school’s reputation.”

“Allow me to help.”

She hesitated. “Would you mind terribly?”

“If I minded, I would not have offered.”

“Very well then, I would appreciate your help.”

“Tell me what you know about this fortune hunter.”

As he took Arabella’s arm and casually strolled toward the French doors, she related something of Jasper Onslow’s background-how the young man had run up huge gaming debts in London and often rusticated here at his parents’ country estate in order to escape his creditors.

Marcus nodded in understanding, but when they reached the doors, he paused to gaze out at the darkened terrace. Through a part in the chintz draperies, Arabella could see the dismaying spectacle of Sybil locked in a passionate embrace with Jasper Onslow.

“Wait here,” Marcus murmured. “I can better handle this alone.”

When he stepped outside, Arabella could hear the conversation well enough.

“Ah, there you are, Miss Newstead, I have been searching for you.”

Sybil jumped two feet and scrambled to break away from her lover, then hurried to wipe her damp lips while staring at Marcus in evident chagrin. “M-my l-lord…how you startled me…”

“I could see that.” Arabella could hear the wry smile in his voice when he added lazily, “My apologies if I interrupted anything of import, but you promised me another dance.”

When Sybil looked puzzled, Arabella realized they had made no such arrangement, but before the girl could reply, Marcus addressed Jasper. “Sorry, old fellow, but I have prior claim on this little heartbreaker.” He held out his arm to Sybil. “Will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

“Y-yes, my l-lord…of course.”

Onslow scowled as Marcus led Sybil back inside, while Sybil smiled brightly and shot Arabella a triumphant look as she passed.

Quelling the unexpected prick of jealousy she felt at seeing the girl on Marcus’s arm, Arabella caught his eye and offered him a look of relief and gratitude. But it was nearly two hours later before the ball ended and she had the opportunity to express her appreciation personally. When Marcus sought her out on the sidelines, she was moving toward the ballroom entrance doors, where the guests were congregating to claim their wraps and to order their carriages.

“Thank you immensely for rescuing Sybil,” Arabella said sincerely. “I will have to keep a closer eye on her in the future, but tonight you averted a potential disaster.”

“You are quite welcome.” He smiled. “I know how difficult it is for a woman of your independent nature to ask for help from a man, but I am gratified that you need me for something.”

“Men are sometimes necessary,” Arabella agreed with a smile. “And I admit, you handled Sybil better than I could.” She paused. “I also wish to thank you again for being so generous to my sisters.”

Marcus shrugged. “It was of no moment. But I mean to claim a reward.”

“Reward?”

“Nothing too taxing. I require your attendance in London Wednesday evening.”

Arabella sent him a little frown. “In London?”

He smiled crookedly. “Don’t look so anxious, sweeting. I merely wish to take you to the theater. I promised weeks ago to escort my sister and aunt to a play at Covent Garden, and I would like you to accompany us. Lady Freemantle has agreed to act as chaperone for you, if you are worried about propriety.”

Arabella’s eyebrow shot up. “You mean to say that you have already settled the matter with her?”

“Yes, so you would have no reason to refuse. I thought you might enjoy an evening on the town. You have been working much too hard of late.”

Arabella felt herself searching his blue gaze. When was the last time a man had been concerned with her enjoyment? Certainly not her father or her step-uncle. Not even her betrothed had cared enough about her welfare to put himself to this much trouble.

“Come, admit it, you want to attend,” Marcus coaxed with a disarming grin.

His perceptiveness was unsettling, but Arabella couldn’t deny his offer held great appeal. She did long for an evening in London. The academy was close enough to the city that she and the other teachers occasionally accompanied their pupils to plays and operas so the girls could practice their social graces. But attending the theater with her pupils was not the same as attending with Marcus.

Which was precisely why she should decline. It would doubtless be a mistake to spend an entire evening out with him. But if Winifred were to accompany them…

“You cannot use the excuse that you have nothing to wear,” Marcus interjected. “I ordered the modiste to make up a dozen more evening gowns for you.”

Arabella stared at him in exasperation. “After I expressly asked you not to spend your fortune on me?”

“Precisely, my lovely Belle. I didn’t want any argument from you about taking my charity. So say you will come. I want you to meet Eleanor. I expect you will like each other.”

Surely it wouldn’t hurt to indulge just this once, Arabella told herself. After the intriguing tales she’d heard about his sister, she did indeed want to meet Eleanor. And merely because she accepted Marcus’s invitation to meet his family didn’t mean she had to accept his proposal of marriage.

“Thank you,” she finally said. “I would enjoy attending the theater with you Wednesday evening and meeting Eleanor.”

The humorous creases around his mouth deepened. “Good. You have spared me having to browbeat you.” He glanced at the diminishing crowd. “I’ll order my carriage now if you will locate your sisters.”

Arabella watched him walk away, marveling at how persuasive Marcus could be. Yet it was his genuine kindness that brought a strange ache to her throat. Before meeting him, she had presumed him to be nothing but a bored, selfish rake like so many of his peers, but this past week had certainly dashed all her prior assumptions about him.

His kindness was more devastating than all his sensual efforts at seduction-and made him infinitely harder to resist. And far more dangerous.

Arabella was still following him with her gaze when Lady Freemantle found her.

“I would call the Loring sisters’ return to society a triumph,” Winifred declared with delight. “And you have Lord Danvers to thank for it.”

“Yes, we do,” Arabella agreed with a smile. “I have already expressed my gratitude to him.”

Winifred’s gaze narrowed on her. “I think you ought to accept his offer of marriage, my dear. He would make you a good husband.”

Arabella felt her smile fading. “Winifred, I know you mean well-”

Her ladyship held up her hands. “I realize you don’t want my interference, but it would ease my heart to see you well settled. But that is the last I shall say on the subject for this evening. For now I will take myself home. Give my love to Roslyn and Lilian.”

Arabella couldn’t help but laugh as Winifred moved away. But when she turned to scan the crowd for her sisters, she found her mind wandering to her friend’s comment.

Was it true that Marcus would make her a good husband? More crucially, what kind of marriage might she have with him if she agreed to become his wife and bear his children?

Noblemen of his stamp didn’t readily give their hearts, and no matter how much she appreciated his kindness and protectiveness, she wasn’t ready to risk the humiliation and pain of opening her own heart again and having it rejected. And without genuine, indisputable, mutual love, she had no desire whatsoever for marriage.

For the first time since his proposal, however, Arabella allowed herself to wonder what a union with Marcus would be like. If she were his wife, she would have a life of ease and comfort, with no financial worries. And she would be given the respect due his countess. As Marcus had pointed out, Lady Danvers would be able to lord it over all their haughty neighbors. Of course, marrying for status and fortune did not ensure happiness, nor could it prevent the kind of misery her parents had endured.

But could their courtship possibly develop into deeper feelings between them? Or was she just indulging in wishful thinking?

For the most part, she was content with her life. Her school was fulfilling, and she had wonderful sisters and friends. Yet admittedly she was lonely at times and found herself wanting something more. Four years ago, Arabella reminded herself, she had earnestly wanted a husband and family, just as Roslyn did now.

What if she were to seriously consider Marcus’s proposal? Could they come to love each other over time? What kind of marriage could she hope to have with him?

More importantly, did she dare risk the hurt she had faced once before? She couldn’t deny the thought was a little frightening.

Yet she didn’t have to decide now, Arabella reflected. Their wager would last for one more week. When it was over, she could declare her independence from Marcus. But meanwhile…what if she were to pretend their courtship was genuine?

She spied her sisters just then, and when they joined her, Roslyn was smiling serenely and even Lily looked pleased by the evening.

“I gather the ball was not as painful as you feared?” Arabella teased her youngest sister.

“No,” Lily agreed good-naturedly. “It was indeed more pleasant than I expected. No doubt because everyone was eager to gain the earl’s favor.”

“But you found him amiable and charming yourself,” Roslyn said, laughing. “Come, admit it, Lily, your opinion of the earl has improved significantly.”

“True,” she conceded. “Perhaps he isn’t so very bad after all.”

As Arabella ushered her sisters toward the entrance doors, she had to acknowledge that Marcus had risen significantly in her own opinion. Not enough to affect her willingness to marry him, of course. She would have to think long and hard about taking so drastic a step.

But for the next week at least, she could perhaps allow their courtship to be real.