To Pleasure a Lady

Chapter Eight

I must concede I was mistaken about the earl. He has some redeeming qualities after all.

– Arabella to Fanny

“Roslyn, Lily…whatever are you doing here?” Arabella asked when she found her sisters waiting in the academy’s reception office where she and the headmistress conducted the business of running the school. “You are not scheduled to teach any classes this afternoon.”

“We came to discover how you are faring,” Roslyn replied, a look of concern on her lovely face, “and to see if you need our help. Since we couldn’t very well visit you at home, we thought this would be the best place. Tess told us the alarming news, Arabella-that Lord Danvers actually proposed to you.”

“Yes,” Lily agreed, her expression even more troubled. “How in heaven’s name did that happen, Belle? The earl has only been here for four days and already you are making outrageous wagers with him?”

Had Marcus only been here for four days? Arabella reflected in amazement. It seemed like far longer.

Debating on how much to reveal, she settled in a wing chair opposite her sisters. “Did Tess also tell you the stakes involved? Lord Danvers promised to grant us our legal and financial freedom if I can manage to resist his courtship for a fortnight. The prospect was too enticing to pass up.”

“She told us,” Roslyn said. “And we appreciate the sacrifice you are making for us-”

“But we are worried for you,” Lily interrupted. There was none of the usual laughter in her warm brown eyes. “Tess says his lordship is sinfully handsome and charming.”

And enchanting and irresistible, Arabella thought.

Aloud, she sighed. “Regrettably, he is. But I agreed to give him a fair chance to woo me.”

She proceeded to give her sisters an edited account of what had happened between them the past few days, leaving out entirely Marcus’s lessons in passion.

“This is our opportunity to win emancipation from his guardianship for good,” Arabella concluded.

Lily frowned. “So he doesn’t mean to make us abandon the academy or force us to marry?”

“Not if I can win the wager.”

“Tess said you found him more agreeable than expected,” Roslyn added, “but what sort of man is he?”

Arabella had no ready answer for that. After seeing Marcus yesterday with her pupils, she had to concede that he was someone she could admire and respect. Or so he seemed on the surface. One couldn’t fully judge a person’s character so quickly. And thus far he was acting the ideal suitor in hopes of convincing her he would make the ideal husband.

“He is indeed much more reasonable than his solicitors’ letters led us to believe,” she admitted.

“There is no chance the earl will win your wager, is there?” Lily asked, still worried. “He won’t convince you to accept his proposal? You have always said you wouldn’t risk being miserable in a marriage of convenience, Belle.”

Arabella smiled reassuringly. “You needn’t distress yourself. I haven’t changed my opinion about marriage in the least.”

She might not be able to resist Marcus’s devastating kisses but she had no intention of wedding him. She certainly wouldn’t be so gullible as to let herself fall in love again, and true love was the only thing that could possibly induce her to brave the perils of betrothal and marriage a second time. She was much wiser now, more careful with her heart.

“Do you want us to come home and help you deal with the earl?” Roslyn asked. “We promised Tess we would finish her charity baskets by next week, but your welfare is more important just now.”

“Yes,” Lily seconded. “Perhaps we should come home to support you against the earl.”

“Thank you, but no,” Arabella replied. “I am dealing with him well enough, truly. And contributing those baskets to the war families means so much to Tess.”

She was about to inquire how her sisters were faring when she heard footsteps out in the corridor, then a soft rap on the door. When she bid entrance, the headmistress, Miss Jane Caruthers, entered, followed by a tall, athletic, raven-haired gentleman who was instantly recognizable, even before Jane announced their visitor. “Lord Danvers to see you, Arabella.”

Arabella froze as her gaze connected with a pair of keen blue eyes. It unsettled her that Marcus had shown up uninvited at her school, not merely because she had hoped to keep her sisters safely concealed from him for a while longer until she could be certain of his intentions, but because his presence here now badly flustered her.

She couldn’t help recalling that two hours ago she was lying in his arms, hot and damp and clinging, while he roused cries of pleasure from her. Arabella flushed at the memory, still feeling the warmth and strength of his hands on her skin, the eroticism of his kisses.

And Marcus, blast him, was clearly remembering too, she realized as their gazes locked for an instant. The heat in his eyes raised her temperature; the intensity of his look made her feel as if he’d put his wonderful hands on her, his sensual, sinful mouth…

Chiding herself, Arabella rose to her feet, while Lily murmured, “Speak of the devil.”

“Oh, were you discussing me?” Marcus said blandly, turning his attention to the younger sisters. “You must be my lovely missing wards.”

As Jane bowed herself out and shut the door behind her, Arabella stepped forward protectively. Knowing there was no choice, however, she made the introductions.

When she was done, Marcus bowed and treated her sisters to the full force of his devastating smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you at last, ladies.”

Roslyn blinked at the sight, while Lily narrowed her eyes. “We cannot say the same, my lord. We would much prefer that you return to London and leave us alone.”

“What my sister means, my lord,” Roslyn said more politely, “is that we believe your guardianship to be unnecessary.”

“I know you do. But surely you will allow me the chance to prove I’m not the villain you think me.”

Rather than succumb to his blatant male appeal, however, Lily determinedly returned his gaze. “You must admit that your actions have been rather villainous thus far. Your solicitors said you intend to find proper husbands for us.”

“That was before I came to understand your particular circumstances,” he replied mildly.

“It would be extremely unfair to make us give up teaching at the academy, my lord. We have striven for years to make it a success, especially Arabella. And now you are trying to make her wed you.”

Marcus’s half smile was meant to disarm. “I doubt I can ‘make’ your sister do anything she doesn’t wish to do.”

But obviously Lily still saw him as a threat. “Arabella won’t be taken in by a handsome face or suave charm, you know.”

Marcus shot her one of his roguish half grins. “Of course she won’t. She is far too astute for that. Which is why I have endeavored to show her that I have more substance than the typical wealthy nobleman.”

When Roslyn eyed him thoughtfully, Marcus continued in the same amiable tone. “I presume you are taking refuge with Miss Blanchard while I am residing at the Hall? Never fear, I have no intention of dragging you both home by your hair. In fact, I am pleased for the opportunity to court your sister in relative privacy-”

Arabella decided it was time to intervene before Marcus could expound on his wicked notions of privacy. “Why have you come here, my lord?”

“Why, to offer my services.”

“Services?”

“As a dance partner during your lesson this afternoon. I understand you mean for your pupils to practice ballroom etiquette in preparation for the ball the local magistrate is holding on Monday. When I visited here yesterday, Miss Caruthers was lamenting that young ladies can only learn so much from a hired dancing master. So I thought to assist.”

Arabella regarded him in surprise. His offer of assistance was beyond generous, considering how torturous it would be for Marcus to suffer another afternoon with a gaggle of schoolgirls.

Of course, he was still attempting to win her favor. Yet she could think of no good reason to decline. Her pupils would indeed benefit from having a real gentleman as a partner. Her sisters usually helped with the ballroom instruction, playing the male roles, but Marcus would be a significant improvement.

“Very well,” Arabella said slowly, “if you are certain you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind in the least,” he assured her. “Your class starts shortly, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, in a few moments.” Arabella glanced at Roslyn, intent on offering her sisters a chance to escape the earl’s focus. “I think we can manage without you this afternoon.”

To her surprise, Roslyn shook her head. “I believe I will stay.”

“So will I,” Lily seconded with a penetrating look at Marcus. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

Arabella suspected her sisters wanted the chance to observe their new guardian, and to provide her moral support as well. Touched by their concern, she preceded them to the ballroom, where their two dozen pupils were already assembled under the supervision of Miss Blanchard and Miss Caruthers.

Lord Danvers’s arrival caused quite a stir. Two dozen pairs of female eyes lit up, not merely at the prospect of dancing with a real earl, Arabella suspected, but of dancing with such a handsome, charming one.

The girls first rehearsed entering the ballroom gracefully, pausing to be announced by the butler, being welcomed by the hosts’ receiving line, then how to respond to requests to dance by various supplicants, including how to turn down undesirable partners. When finally they came to the actual dancing, Miss Caruthers moved to sit at the pianoforte to play.

Arabella was about to choose a partner for Marcus when he politely objected. “I would prefer my initial demonstration be with you, Miss Loring.”

He had intended this all along, she realized with exasperation. But he allowed her no chance to demur as he took her hand to lead her onto the floor. Her pulse leapt deplorably at his mere touch, for it only reminded her of their tryst earlier this afternoon. And as they faced each other for a contra dance, waiting for the music to begin, Arabella realized she was discomfited for an additional reason: It felt strange to be dancing with any gentleman again.

This was the first time since her broken betrothal. In fact, she hadn’t been to a real ball since then. Now, whenever she accompanied her pupils to the local public assemblies, she always sat out the dances, since she only attended to act as chaperone and instruct the academy’s students. It was more fitting that way and prevented any gossip about a mere teacher not knowing her proper place.

She needed to prevent any gossip now, Arabella reminded herself as she met Marcus’s blue gaze, for two dozen young ladies were looking on. She had to forget that passionate interlude with him this afternoon had ever occurred.

For the next few minutes, as he partnered her through the quick patterns of the dance, Arabella struggled to appear composed. His behavior was perfectly proper during the entire dance, but each time their hands met proved a severe distraction. She was usually quite a skilled dancer yet just now she seemed to have grown two left feet.

At the conclusion, Arabella felt absurdly flushed and breathless and so made a point of avoiding her sisters’ gazes, knowing they were watching her dealings with Marcus with avid interest.

She was preparing to select another partner for him when her least favorite pupil, Sybil Newstead, boldly stepped forward. “I should like to be first, Lord Danvers. The other girls don’t need the practice, since very few of them have actually received invitations to Sir Alfred Perry’s ball. I have, and so has Miss Blanchard.” Sybil shot a sly look at Arabella. “Miss Loring has not been invited, nor has Miss Roslyn or Miss Lilian. They are considered too scandalous to mingle with the local gentry.”

At Sybil’s savage remark, Arabella sucked in a sharp breath, but Marcus responded before she could recover.

Lifting a black eyebrow, he raked the girl with bored scrutiny. “Did no one ever teach you it is impolite to gossip about your betters, Miss Newstead? I would say you don’t need practice dancing; rather you need to work on your execrable manners.”

Sybil’s mouth dropped open, while her cheeks turned red with embarrassment. But Marcus was not done, it seemed. “Take care that you don’t annoy the wrong people, for a ball invitation can always be withdrawn. I am acquainted with Sir Alfred, did you know?”

He spoke softly, lazily even, but there was no mistaking his implied threat to have Sybil expelled from local society, as the Loring sisters were.

Arabella stared at Marcus, both surprised and gratified that he had defended her against the girl, even if perhaps he’d been too harsh. It was undoubtedly a lesson Sybil would not soon forget.

Yet there was a more tactful way to teach her that such cruel behavior was unacceptable.

When the girl scowled, Arabella remarked gently, “A lady does not grimace when a gentleman displeases her, Sybil. Nor does she make remarks that can be hurtful to others.”

“Yes, Miss Loring,” Sybil muttered, her cheeks still scarlet.

“You know that in polite society you are judged by your every word and action. You do wish to be considered a lady, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course, Miss Loring.”

Arabella smiled encouragingly. “Then perhaps you will be kind enough to allow Miss Trebbs the opportunity to practice first with Lord Danvers.”

“Oh, very well.” Conspicuously struggling to bite her tongue, Sybil stepped back, but not before flinging Arabella a rebellious look.

Arabella calmly ignored the spoiled girl as the excited Miss Trebbs took the floor with Marcus. But when she herself moved to the sidelines, she caught sight of her sisters’ expressions. Lily was simmering with suppressed anger and hurt at Sybil’s nasty taunt, while Roslyn was pretending a cool dispassion that hid similar warring emotions.

Arabella shared their feelings. Since their parents’ infamy had followed them all the way from Hampshire, they were not received in any of the better neighborhood households-in large part because their late step-uncle had publicly repudiated them for their mother’s sins.

It was a bitter pill for Arabella to swallow, not so much for her own sake as for her sisters’. They had learned to accept the inevitable, but still it stung to be shunned by nearly all the local gentry for scandals their parents had created.

Arabella watched the practice sessions with only half her usual attention, and at the end she was distracted enough that she let Marcus usher her into his carriage to take her home when she had meant to avoid being alone with him so soon after their romantic rendezvous.

“So tell me,” he said when the vehicle was moving, “why were you and your sisters not invited to Sir Alfred’s ball?”

“I should think it obvious,” Arabella replied, trying to keep her tone light. “The scandals still haunt us. In this district, no one who moves in higher circles will associate with the Loring sisters-other than Lady Freemantle and Miss Blanchard, of course.” She shrugged. “I don’t care about myself, really, but my sisters deserve better.”

A muscle worked in Marcus’s jaw. “I will see to it that you all three are invited to the ball. And I mean to escort you there myself.”

She looked at him curiously. She had little doubt he could persuade Sir Alfred and Lady Perry to issue them invitations, but she couldn’t understand why he would wish to. “You needn’t go to such trouble, Marcus.”

“I do need to. I won’t have my wards being shunned, especially since you’re being condemned through no fault of your own.” He was angry on her behalf, she realized.

Arabella forced a smile. “It doesn’t matter, truly. We are accustomed to being excluded. In any case, we have nothing appropriate to wear. Our ball gowns are four years out of fashion.”

“Then you will order new ball gowns made.”

“By Monday?”

“It can be done. I will send for a London modiste to attend you tomorrow.”

“Marcus, it would cost a fortune to have gowns made on such short notice!”

“I happen to have a fortune, sweeting. And I can think of no better way to spend it.”

This time Arabella shook her head firmly. “We don’t need your charity.”

“It isn’t charity. As your guardian, I am obliged to provide for you.”

Hearing the echo of her late step-uncle’s complaints at being saddled with their upkeep, Arabella felt herself stiffen. “It is indeed charity, and we won’t accept.”

Marcus pinned her with a stern look. “Don’t be tiresome, love. It is only your pride suffering.”

Arabella scowled at him in return. “That is easy for you to say. You have obviously never been utterly dependent on anyone. You can’t understand the helpless feeling-how humiliating it is to be beholden for every morsel of food and stitch of clothing on your back-”

“No, I cannot understand,” he agreed sympathetically. “But your former guardian was a selfish, miserly bastard who deserved to have his teeth knocked down his throat for treating his own nieces like supplicants.”

Then perhaps realizing how distressing the subject was for Arabella, Marcus softened his expression. “If you won’t accept a new gown for your own sake, then do it for me. My pride is at stake. I won’t have my wards dressed in rags. And surely you don’t want to appear at a disadvantage in front of your pupils by appearing at the ball dressed in outmoded gowns.”

When she hesitated, Marcus prodded, “Come now, confess it, Arabella. You would like to go, if only to prove that you and your sisters are as worthy as the haughty nobs who have scorned you all these years.”

She couldn’t deny that the thought had appeal. When she remained silent, however, Marcus continued. “I imagine your sisters would find it pleasant to be welcomed back by their peers…to take their rightful place in society. And so would you.”

She looked away, surprised that Marcus seemed to understand her conflicted feelings. Four years ago, when she’d been disowned by her peers and many of the acquaintances she’d called friends, Arabella had held her head high-defiantly, in fact-refusing to let her life be governed by the fickle denizens of the Beau Monde. Yet there were times when she found herself longing for the kind of acceptance she had enjoyed since birth, before she and her sisters had become social pariahs. Even though she had pretended not to care, she did care, probably more than was wise. And she very badly wanted Roslyn and Lily to have the opportunities denied them when their familiar world had come crashing down around them.

Marcus’s low tone was unexpectedly serious when he said, “I can see that you and your sisters are accepted in society again, Arabella.” Then he caught her hand and made her look at him.

Arabella drew an uneven breath. The warmth in his eyes made it too easy for her to forget that she was supposed to be resisting his overtures. She was oddly touched by his concern, though. His protectiveness brought a strange ache to her throat.

It took effort to withdraw her hand from his grasp. “I would indeed like to attend the ball for my sisters’ sake…”

Marcus smiled slowly. “Then it’s settled. I will escort the three of you. Have your sisters come to the Hall tomorrow morning to have their measurements taken by the modiste.”

Arabella felt her mouth twisting in reluctant amusement as she eyed Marcus. “Only a nobleman would have the confidence to think he needs only snap his fingers to make the world do his bidding.”

“Because it’s true,” he said amiably. “Never underestimate the power that comes with rank and wealth.”

“Oh, I do not underestimate it, believe me.”

His gaze leveled on her. “You could always accept my proposal of marriage. As Lady Danvers, you would be able to lord it over the entire neighborhood.”

Arabella couldn’t help but smile, as no doubt he’d meant her to. “That is a delightful notion…but even that treat won’t tempt me to marry you, Marcus.”

“Then I will have to think of some other means of convincing you. I can be quite resourceful when I put my mind to it, you know.”

She found herself laughing softly as she turned to gaze out the carriage window. Somehow Marcus had managed not only to banish the dismay she’d felt over Sybil’s spiteful comment, but to lighten her spirits as well. It would be extremely gratifying if he could reinstate her sisters in society as he anticipated.

Hearing her husky laughter, Marcus felt an unfamiliar softening inside him. It was rather humbling to witness Arabella’s fortitude. He’d never been subjected to the sort of blatant ostracism she had endured, not even for his most outrageous transgressions. For years Arabella had been unjustly humiliated and scorned for her parents’ sins.

But, Marcus vowed, he intended to change that, even before she became his countess. By the time he was through, every high-browed member of the Quality in the district would be making amends to her.