To Pleasure a Lady

Chapter Fourteen

What fools we females can be, letting ourselves be seduced by a charming address and a handsome face.

– Arabella to Fanny

Protectively, Marcus stepped in front of Arabella, but she wouldn’t allow herself to hide behind him.

“Good night, my lord,” she murmured, slipping past him.

He caught her arm. “If you need me-”

“Thank you, but I had best speak to my sisters alone.”

Aware that she had badly disappointed them, Arabella mounted the stairs to the second-floor landing. Both Lily and Roslyn followed her down the corridor to her bedchamber and closed the door behind them. The strained silence that ensued did not last long.

“How could you, Arabella?” Lily demanded unhappily. “Sneaking out with the earl for a midnight tryst. You have been kissing him, haven’t you? Your hair is disheveled and your mouth is red and bruised.”

Indeed, she looked a perfect wanton, Arabella realized when she glimpsed her reflection in the cheval glass. She bit her lower lip in chagrin. At least the damp, tender ache between her thighs wasn’t visible.

Her muteness only distressed Lily more. “Just how far has your affair with Lord Danvers gone, Belle?”

She could feel heat searing her cheeks. She had no desire to confess that she had not only given her virginity to Marcus, she’d spent the last three nights making mad, passionate love with him.

Before Lily could press her further, however, Roslyn intervened in a gentler but just as troubled tone. “We are worried for you, Arabella. You are exhibiting all the signs of a dangerous ardor. We don’t want you to be hurt again.”

Arabella grimaced. “You needn’t worry, truly. I won’t let myself fall in love like last time.”

“But you could still be hurt,” Roslyn pointed out. “Think carefully, Arabella. If you continue in this vein, you may have no choice but to wed Lord Danvers. You cannot afford to create a scandal-not unless you are prepared to see our academy’s reputation suffer. If your indiscretions become known, marriage to him will be your only course.”

Disliking to acknowledge that possibility, Arabella swallowed hard. She had deliberately ignored the risk of scandal for the momentary pleasure of being with Marcus.

“Yes, please think, Arabella,” Lily pleaded. “You don’t want to be forced to wed him to save your reputation.”

“Even worse,” Roslyn added softly, “is the prospect of being locked in a union like Mama and Papa were. If the earl doesn’t love you, he could make your life a misery the way Papa did Mama.”

“I know,” Arabella murmured. “My behavior has been reckless. But it won’t happen again.”

“I hope not,” Lily said, true distress in her voice. “If you don’t take care, he will seduce you. Surely you don’t want to wind up like Mama, falling under the spell of a charmer, lusting after a man to the detriment of your entire family?”

The notion struck Arabella like a blow. Was that what she was doing? She stared at her youngest sister in dismay. It appalled her to think that she might be following in her mother’s footsteps.

“Has it come to that, Arabella?” Roslyn said more quietly. “Are you letting your heart overrule your head, like Mama did?”

Arabella shook her head earnestly. “My heart is not involved. I have known Marcus barely a few weeks. That is too short a time to develop any lasting ardor.”

“You may not be able to help yourself,” Lily asserted. “Doubtless he is counting on your feminine weakness, trusting that he can make you fall in love with him. He is playing on your physical desires-and he is clearly succeeding.”

Arabella couldn’t refute the charge; she had warned herself of the same thing countless times. She raised a hand to her temple. “I won’t deny that I feel a physical attraction for him, but it is only passion I feel.”

“Then you had best keep away from him entirely,” Roslyn advised. “Passion is not a sound basis for marriage. Passion can burn out quickly, and then what is left?” Roslyn hesitated, gazing at her sympathetically. “It might be different if there were any chance you could come to love each other.”

Roslyn’s advocacy of love was not surprising. She was not set against marriage as Lily was; she just felt strongly that love must come first if a union was to have any chance of truly prospering.

“There is little chance of that,” Arabella replied. “He doesn’t want a love match. He only wants a marriage of convenience with a proper wife to breed him heirs.”

“Then you should end your courtship now.”

“Yes,” Lily seconded. “You don’t dare risk falling in love with him, Belle. Love can turn you into an utter fool, blinding you to all else.”

Arabella nodded in agreement. Roslyn was the wisest of the three of them and could be counted on to analyze the situation rationally. Lily, on the other hand, was speaking from sheer emotion. Despite her hoydenish ways, she was the most sensitive Loring sister and had been hurt most by their mother’s abandonment.

Yet Arabella shared Lily’s feelings in this instance. Love made a woman much too vulnerable and susceptible to lunacy. She well knew the pain love could cause, both from her own experience and from her mother’s. Victoria Loring had fallen in love and destroyed her family because of it…

“You are right, of course,” Arabella murmured.

Evidently Lily wasn’t convinced of her sincerity. “We can try to help you resist him, but only you can crush your feelings for him before they go too far.”

“I know.” She couldn’t-wouldn’t-permit herself to fall in love with Marcus. She squared her shoulders. “You needn’t worry about me, Lily. Our wager ends on Monday-only two and a half more days.”

“Hang the blasted wager!” Lily declared. “You have to call it off immediately. It is not worth the risk.”

She couldn’t call off the wager now. Not when she was so close. She had her sisters to think of as well as herself. Their independence was also at stake. If she lost the wager, Lily and Roslyn would suffer for it.

Taking a deep breath, she gazed solemnly back at them, filled with new resolve. “No, truly. I promise I will keep away from Marcus from now on. No midnight trysts…no trysts of any kind. I won’t allow myself to be alone with him ever again.”

It was a promise she was determined to keep, Arabella vowed to herself. The reminder of their mother’s behavior had had a chilling effect-and she had absolutely no intention of losing her heart the way her mother had done.

She managed to hold to her promise for the better part of the next day. Knowing Marcus had an afternoon appointment in London on a political matter but not wanting to risk encountering him beforehand, Arabella eschewed breakfast and left Danvers Hall early with her sisters to take refuge at the academy. There, she distracted herself the entire morning by listening to musical performances.

The afternoon passed much more slowly, since it was Saturday. With only a half day of lessons scheduled, the young ladies were allowed the afternoon free to do whatever they pleased. Most chose to go shopping in the village, which left the school unusually quiet.

Despite Arabella’s best intentions and her sisters’ attempts to divert her, Marcus occupied her thoughts far too often. Thus, she accepted readily when Roslyn and Lily suggested they take an early tea with Jane Caruthers, the spinster who ran the school’s daily operations. When Tess Blanchard elected to join them, the pleasant interlude became reminiscent of the early days before they opened the academy, when the five of them had regularly gathered to discuss plans.

Afterward, the ladies repaired to the dining room, where their pupils were partaking of their own tea. They had barely settled when Jane was summoned away by the housekeeper, Mrs. Phipps.

A short while later, Arabella also found herself approached by Mrs. Phipps, who whispered urgently, “Forgive the interruption, Miss Loring, but Miss Caruthers asks to speak with you in private.”

“Very well, where is she?” Arabella asked.

“The dormitory. Miss Newstead’s room.”

When Arabella eventually mounted the stairs to Sybil Newstead’s bedchamber, she found Jane wringing her hands.

“Sybil has disappeared,” was Jane’s immediate pronouncement, “and I fear she has left the grounds.”

Arabella frowned. Sybil had not come down to tea, but that in itself was not alarming, since one of her schoolmates had claimed she had taken ill and was resting in her room. But obviously the girl was not in her bed.

Tess joined them as Arabella asked Jane, “What makes you believe she has left the grounds?”

“Her bandbox is missing, along with several of her best gowns. And the maid we set to watch her has disappeared as well. No one but Caroline Trebbs has seen Sybil since this morning.”

Arabella’s frown deepened. The two girls shared this bedchamber, and Caroline had been the one to report Sybil’s illness.

“I think we had best talk to Miss Trebbs,” Arabella said, “before we draw any rash conclusions.”

She kept her voice calm but felt a niggling uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. Sybil Newstead was capable of most any indiscretion, although why she would have run away was puzzling. As for the maid, Sybil could possibly have bribed the servant to look the other way, although it would be worth her position-

“Do you think she might have eloped?” Tess asked, clearly worried.

Arabella’s uneasiness turned to alarm. “Dear heaven, I hope not.” But that would be one rational explanation for Sybil’s disappearance.

When Jane went to fetch Caroline Trebbs from the drawing room, Arabella waited with Tess impatiently. Her mind raced as she tried to recall observing any unusual behavior from Sybil recently-an exercise in futility, Arabella knew. She had paid little attention to any of her pupils this past week, she had been so busy being wooed by Marcus. But for an elopement, Sybil would have to have a suitor-

Her alarm twisted into a knot of dread as the answer struck her: Jasper Onslow. She had caught the notorious rake stealing a kiss from Sybil on the balcony at the Perrys’ ball. A wastrel like Onslow might be desperate enough to lower himself to marry a mill heiress for her vast fortune. But had Sybil gone willingly? Her missing gowns suggested that force hadn’t been necessary…

Arabella’s whirling thoughts were interrupted when Jane returned with Caroline. Miss Trebbs was a plump, plain-looking girl. When she entered the bedchamber with obvious reluctance, the guilty look on her face spoke volumes.

Arabella didn’t waste time with polite queries. “Caroline, we need you to tell us where Sybil has gone.”

Bowing her head, the girl mumbled something unintelligible.

“She took you into her confidence, didn’t she?” Arabella pressed, striving for patience.

“Y-yes, Miss Loring… But I promised not to tell. Sybil said she would cut out my tongue if I b-breathed a word to anyone.”

Arabella drew a slow breath. “We won’t let her harm you, Caroline. Please, we need you to tell us what has happened. She could be in danger.”

It was another long moment before Caroline said in a rush, “Sybil is not really in danger, Miss Loring. She went to Gretna Green.”

Jane let out a low moan, while Tess met Arabella’s eyes with similar dismay. Sybil apparently had eloped to Scotland with her fortune hunter suitor, just as they feared.

“Did she go with Mr. Onslow?” Arabella asked.

Caroline’s jaw slackened as she stared in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Never mind. Just tell us what she planned. It will take at least three days for them to drive to Scotland, perhaps more. What arrangements did they make? When did they leave?”

“Shortly after classes let out…when we went shopping in the village. Mr. Onslow met us there with his carriage.”

“How did she intend to deal with her maid?” Tess asked. “I doubt Martha would simply have let Sybil elope without protest.”

Caroline hung her head, as if ashamed. “Sybil knew Martha wouldn’t keep quiet, so she made her come with them. They planned to set her down further on tonight, to make her way home by mailcoach tomorrow. And I was to cover for Sybil this evening by saying she was ill. She thought the soonest anyone would miss her was tomorrow after church.”

“Yet Mrs. Phipps,” Jane said tightly, “began wondering where Martha had gotten to, and so she searched this room and found Sybil’s belongings missing.”

“Yes,” Caroline whispered. Her gaze returned to Arabella. “I am so very sorry I lied, Miss Loring, truly.”

Arabella bit her tongue to keep from lashing out at the girl, but Jane didn’t. “This could ruin us,” she muttered. “Mr. Newstead will be outraged-”

But Arabella didn’t want to discuss the academy’s business before one of their pupils. “Caroline, I wish you to return to the dining room for now. And please don’t say a word to any of the other girls.”

“I won’t, I swear it.”

Jane had had enough of patience, however. “Young ladies do not swear, Miss Trebbs.”

“Yes, Miss Caruthers…ah, no, Miss Caruthers…” With quivering meekness, Caroline gave Jane a wide berth as she crept from the room.

Arabella looked at her two friends in shared dismay, excruciatingly aware of the scandal that threatened them. If they allowed one of their wealthy young pupils to fall into the clutches of a fortune hunter, marriage or not, no parents would ever trust the academy again with their daughters.

Even worse, Sybil could suffer more than a loss of her reputation. By eloping with only a maid for protection, she risked ravishment. No matter how vexing the girl was, she didn’t deserve that fate. And regardless, her entire future was at stake. If she was merely witless enough to let herself be seduced because she fancied herself in love, she was making a grave mistake, since Onslow was not the kind of man to cherish anyone but himself. Sybil was unlikely to relish life as his wife.

Arabella hated to think of any innocent young girl at that bounder’s mercy, even the troublesome minx Sybil. Besides, she thought grimly, Sybil was supposed to be under her protection. It was her responsibility to keep her pupils safe, and it appeared that she might have failed.

“We must stop them somehow,” Tess said, stating what they were all three thinking.

“But how?” Jane asked.

“I will go after them at once,” Arabella replied, putting a hand to her temple as she thought madly. “They have nearly four hours’ head start, but they will likely put up at an inn tonight. I cannot see Sybil suffering the inconvenience of sleeping in a carriage. If I drive through the night, I may be able to catch them.”

“But you will need help,” Tess pointed out. “Would Lord Danvers be willing to accompany you?”

Arabella nodded. “I’m certain he would, but he is in London for the day, and I expect he took his coach since it threatened to rain this morning. I will ask Lady Freemantle to loan me her coach and several stout footmen as well. They should be able to help me convince Mr. Onslow to abandon his designs on Sybil.”

“What if he has already…” Jane broke off, her face turning red.

Arabella understood the question, but Tess spoke first. “Already claimed her virtue?” she supplied. “Sybil would be an utter fool to let him touch her before they were properly married, and she is cunning enough to keep the upper hand until then.”

“He may be dastardly enough to force her,” Arabella observed.

“Perhaps, but I don’t think he will risk it,” Tess said reassuringly, “since Sybil is just stubborn enough to refuse to marry him if he tried to coerce her. No doubt she sees an elopement as an adventure and hasn’t properly considered the full consequences. She thinks her father can be persuaded to accept him for her husband. Onslow may be a rake and a wastrel, but he is considered a gentleman in most circles, and would be a fair catch for a tradesman’s daughter.”

Jane’s mouth twisted in a mournful grimace. “But even if Mr. Newstead eventually accepts the marriage, our academy will never recover from the blow.”

“I know,” Arabella said grimly. Everything they had striven for during the past three years would be ruined.

When she remained silent, Tess searched her face. “Wouldn’t you prefer to wait for his lordship to return?”

She would indeed prefer to wait for Marcus, but she didn’t have time. “I must leave right away, Tess. If we hope to keep the elopement quiet, I will have to bring Sybil back before anyone discovers she is missing.”

“Perhaps I should come with you,” Tess offered.

“I think it best if I go alone,” Arabella responded. “My absence from the school won’t be remarkable, but if both of us are gone, it will be noted. Roslyn and Lily should remain here also and attend church tomorrow as usual to keep up appearances.”

“So how do we explain Sybil’s absence?” Jane asked.

Tess answered that question. “We can say she became ill, and that Arabella took her to London to see Lady Freemantle’s personal physician.”

“That should suffice,” Jane said. “Assuming you can find Sybil and prevent the marriage.”

“Oh, I will find her,” Arabella said with determination. She had no intention of letting the exasperating little chit ruin herself or the academy. “And I will keep them from marrying, even if I have to order Winifred’s footmen to overpower Onslow so I can drag Sybil home by her hair.”

With no time to waste, Arabella found her sisters and managed to gain their approval of the plan. Although reluctant to let her go alone, Roslyn and Lily clearly understood the need for discretion and agreed to remain behind and support the pretense they’d concocted.

Next, Arabella quickly drove the gig to the Freemantle estate. She hoped to leave as soon as she could borrow Winifred’s coach and footmen, but she hadn’t counted on her friend balking.

After listening to Arabella’s request, Winifred shook her head adamantly. “ ’Tis a demmed fool thing even to consider, my dear, you chasing after them alone. You need to let Danvers handle the matter.”

“He is not here to handle it, Winifred,” Arabella said, taken aback by her refusal. “He is in London.”

“Then you should wait for his return.”

Arabella tried to quell her impatience. “I cannot wait. Sybil is in my charge, Winifred. I am responsible for her well-being. She could be in real danger.”

“And you could be putting yourself in danger if you follow her. You should rely on Danvers to help you. He is your guardian, after all.”

“Not for long. By next week, he will be obliged to grant my sisters and me emancipation from his guardianship. But that is entirely beside the point.”

Winifred gave her a stern look. “You cannot go gallivanting off across England all alone without protection, Arabella.”

“I will have your coachman and footmen to protect me.”

“Lord Danvers would do better than a score of servants.”

Doubtless he would, Arabella silently agreed. She desperately wished Marcus were here to help her. On the other hand, she had no desire to be cooped up in a closed carriage with him for who knew how long, since it would prove a severe test of her willpower.

Regardless of her own wishes or reservations, however, she didn’t dare delay.

“I don’t intend to stand here arguing, Winifred. If you won’t help me, I will hire a carriage at the posting inn.”

Impatiently, Arabella turned on her heel, but was stopped by Winifred’s protest. “Oh, very well, you may have my coach and servants. But if you wind up getting in over your head, my dear, you cannot say I didn’t warn you.”

“I won’t,” Arabella promised.

A quarter hour later, she sank back against the velvet squabs as Lady Freemantle’s coachman whipped up the team of horses. Five strapping grooms and footmen served as postilions and outriders, allowing Arabella to breathe a sigh of relief as she finally set out in pursuit of the eloping couple.

What Sybil had done was deplorable, Arabella reflected, but despite her anger and dismay at her errant pupil, she could sympathize to some extent.

After all, the girl was not so different from herself, unable to resist a seductive suitor.

Her relief lasted only a few hours. The coach made good time at first, heading directly for the nearby town of Hammersmith, where five main roads converged, and reaching north London and the main road to Scotland before dark. After that, however, they faced numerous delays, since they paused at each posting house to inquire after the fleeing Sybil and her scoundrel of a suitor.

To protect the chit’s reputation as well as her own, Arabella fabricated a tale about Sybil being her cousin, claiming they were making an urgent journey home since Sybil’s mother was gravely ill. Regrettably, though, none of the ostlers or innkeepers remembered seeing a raven-haired young lady, with or without her maid or gentleman escort.

When night fell, Arabella’s coachman had to slow the pace considerably, for the moonlight was greatly diminished by thick black clouds scudding across the sky. Then when they stopped briefly at a posting inn to change teams, other travelers warned that a fierce storm was brewing up ahead, directly in their path.

The warning proved all too true. The roiling clouds quickly turned ominous and soon gusts of wind began buffeting the coach, rocking Arabella inside. She could smell the heavy scent of rain in the air long before she heard the first drops strike the rooftop.

The thunderstorm hit full force a half hour later, lashing them with a blinding rain punctuated by frequent bursts of lightning and rolling cracks of thunder.

The danger grew even worse when the coach wheels started to slide precariously. The road had turned treacherous with mud, and Arabella found herself clutching the strap just to keep from being thrown off the seat each time the coach lurched over a rut.

Tension filled her and didn’t ease when she felt the vehicle slow to a halt a few moments later.

When the coachman drew back the small driver’s panel to speak to her, he had to shout to be heard over the pounding rain. “ ’Tis no use, Miss Loring! We ’ave to take shelter till the storm passes.”

Arabella nodded grimly, knowing they had no choice but to call a halt to the search tonight. Even if they avoided being struck by lightning, they risked serious accident and even injury from losing a wheel or turning over in a ditch.

“Can we make it to the next inn and put up for the night?” she shouted back over the din.

“Aye, there’s the Duck and Bill up ahead a mile or two. But I canna keep the team calm much longer.”

As if to emphasize his point, the heavens erupted again: A glittering bolt of lightning lit up the night with garish white, followed by an enormous clap of thunder, which sent the frightened horses plunging wildly ahead.

“Do your best,” she urged, grabbing the strap again as the coach lunged forward.

Thankfully the coachman wrestled his team to a halt, but another delay ensued while the two postilions climbed down to hand-lead the jittery horses through the engulfing tempest. It was heavy going, slogging through the mud and driving rain, and they only managed a snail’s pace.

Pitying the poor servants and animals who were exposed to the violent storm, Arabella muttered a frustrated oath. No doubt Sybil was tucked snugly in bed at an inn, sleeping soundly, while her pursuers were risking life and limb to chase after her.

By some miracle the coach made it safely to the Duck and Bill and limped into the deserted stable yard. The rain still came down in torrents, though, and when the coach door was opened by one of her footmen, it was slammed back by a gust of wind with enough force to take Arabella’s breath away.

Although she drew her hooded cloak tightly around her, by the time she made it inside the inn, she was drenched and shivering. But the innkeeper and his wife were eager to accommodate her, promising to see to her servants and horses and offering Arabella the last empty bedchamber. There was no private parlor available, since the inn was nearly full with stranded travelers.

She explained her lack of baggage similarly, by saying she hadn’t planned on stopping overnight, and giving the same tale as before about her aunt being critically ill. When she asked after her “cousin” Sybil, however, Arabella was gratified to hear that a couple matching Sybil’s and Onslow’s descriptions had changed horses and taken supper there some three hours earlier, which at least gave her confidence that she was on the right track.

The innkeeper’s wife led Arabella upstairs to a small but cozy bedchamber and lit the fire in the hearth, then left promising to bring her some supper and hot mulled wine shortly. Soon a welcoming blaze burned brightly enough to take the chill from the room although not from her bones.

Arabella removed her sodden cloak as well as her mud-caked shoes and stockings and arranged them before the fire to dry. Yet she couldn’t sit still. Instead, she paced restlessly before the hearth, feeling utterly impotent. The storm had spoiled her plans to reach Sybil tonight. Now she could only hope that the elopers had been delayed by the dreadful weather as well-and even if not, that she would catch up to them sometime tomorrow.

After a while, however, the lack of activity sent Arabella’s thoughts wandering down a different path, and she found herself dwelling on her own predicament, namely her wager with Marcus.

Rubbing her chilled arms as she stared down at the fire, she wondered if he would demand more time to win, since she hadn’t allowed him to share her company at all today and might not be home by tomorrow. And from there, she started remembering their moonlit tryst last night…how Marcus had taken her standing up, the searing passion-

Realizing where her errant reflections had taken her, Arabella gave a snort of vexation and turned away from the hearth.

Suddenly a wave of exhaustion claimed her. Since there was nothing more she could do this evening, she decided she might as well try to sleep, although the noise from the storm would likely make that difficult. Rain beat against the shutters, while the wind moaned around the eaves.

Trying to ignore the bluster, she removed her gown and petticoats and corset, intending to sleep in her shift, since she had no nightdress. She had just drawn a quilt around her to keep warm when she heard a soft rap on the door. Expecting that the innkeeper’s wife had returned with her supper and wine, Arabella crossed the room in time to hear the woman call out: “Yer ladyship? Yer ’usband is come.”

Husband? Arabella thought with puzzlement.

Pulling the quilt more tightly about her, she opened the door partway to peer out.

Her eyes widened first in surprise, then elation. Marcus stood there in the corridor, his wet ebony hair plastered to his head, the capes of his great coat dripping with rain, his top boots coated with mud. The leather saddlebags he’d slung over one arm were also soaked through, as was the tall beaver hat he carried.

When he offered her a cool smile, Arabella drank in the sight of him, realizing that he had somehow ridden after her. Odd how seeing him not only filled her with gladness but made all her weariness and misery suddenly evaporate.

“Ah, there you are, my dear,” he said, pushing the door open and strolling past her into the room. “I am pleased I finally caught up to you.”