Page 18 of A Fake Courtship with the Marquess
At first, the two gentlemen did not notice, for they were too busy puffing their chests and smiling tightly at one another. But as Arabella urged her legs to give way beneath her, and she purposely collapsed onto the grass to soften her fall, they had no choice but to set their disputes aside.
“Lady Arabella!” Henry was on his knees the fastest, gathering her up into his arms and taking the fan from her hand. He wafted it close to her face. “Miss Cassie, do you have smelling salts? Might you run to those ladies over there and ask if they do, should you not have any at hand?”
Pretending to be out cold, Arabella could not help but feel impressed by the calm tone of Henry’s voice. Had it not been for the rapid beat of his heart, which she could feel against her upper arm, she might have believed that he was unflustered.
“Yes, My Lord.” Cassie hurried away.
“Arabella?” Henry dropped the “Lady,” and the sound of it comforted her. Only dear friends and family called her that. Maybe, after the Season was over, he might become such a friend.
She groaned lightly, fluttering her eyelids.
“Lady Arabella?” Lord Powell’s voice murmured from close by. “You ought to fetch some water, My Lord, to splash upon her face. Or jostle her slightly.”
“Stand back,” Henry replied tersely. “You are crowding her.”
Arabella heard movement, like someone walking away. “When she awakens, tell her I will see her again soon, and I wish her a swift recovery.”
“Where are you going?” Henry asked the question Arabella longed to.
Lord Powell cleared his throat. “I was passing through the park on my way to a meeting. I did not mean to stay so long, and I regret that I cannot remain until she stirs, or I might be even later.” He paused, his voice thick. “But please tell her I will call upon her, and that I am sorry I could not stay. If not in London, I will venture to the Surrey Hills for her.”
Arabella’s heart danced a jig of glee within her chest. She had not only diffused the situation, as per Cassie’s well-timed instruction, but she had been given such sweet and hopeful words. Lord Powell would come to her. It was only a matter of time. He had said so himself.
“Arabella?” Henry’s soft voice bumped her out of her giddiness. “Arabella, can you hear me? Please, open your eyes.”
She fluttered her eyelids again, not wanting to put him through further duress. In truth, there was a mournfulness in his voice that made her feel guilty for pulling such a stunt.
“Arabella? Yes, like that, open your eyes,” he urged, spurred on by the flicker of life.
Slowly, she fluttered her eyelids open to find him gazing down at her. Relief washed over his handsome face, and his eyes shone with gratitude. To her surprise, he bundled her closer to him and embraced her tightly. It stunned her to the point of being unable to move or advise him that such an act was not appropriate.
As her chin settled upon his shoulder, and his cheek pressed to hers, she caught the scent of his skin—soapy and clean, with an undernote that made her think of the pines that could be found deep in the woodland surrounding the Bowles Estate. His jaw was slightly rough, while the hand that cradled the back of her neck was smooth in parts, calloused in others. The telltale mark of someone who had fought on the Continent.
“I am quite well,” she whispered, though she made no move to push him away. Indeed, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the cluster of young Society ladies going into a fit of paroxysms at the improper scene. Fingers jabbed in their direction, mouths moved rapidly, and their hands were flying all over the place.
Slowly, Henry eased his hold upon her, though he kept his grip upon her shoulders to prevent her collapsing back again. “Are you injured? Did you hurt yourself when you fell? Have you a headache, or any blurring of the vision?”
“I am unharmed,” she assured him.
He exhaled deeply. “Thank goodness.” He sat back, keeping one arm around her, though at a slight distance. “My heart is pounding. I thought you were done for.”
“Country ladies do not die from trifling faints,” she told him, cracking a smile. “Where did Lord Powell go?” It was a test, to see if he would inform her of Lord Powell’s parting words.
“He said he had a meeting to attend to, and could not stay,” Henry replied, passing the first part of the test. “He added that he would see you again soon and would call upon you at the Bowles Estate if he could not call upon you in London.” To her delight, he passed the second part, too, though he appeared less than delighted.
“Why do you look so gloomy about it?”
He sighed. “It is no secret that I do not care for the man. He behaves as though he is well-mannered, but he shows perpetual disdain for those above him. I have allowed it to pass one time too many.” He paused. “If you have taken a fancy to him, I would urge you to look elsewhere. He is not the man for you.”
“Are you my mother and father?” Arabella bristled.
“What do you mean?”
She sat up straighter. “Would you tell me who I can and cannot like, or even wed, if such a thing came to pass? Am I in the same situation, being commanded to do your bidding instead of theirs?”
Immediately, she felt sorry for sharpening her tone like that. Whether or not he knew she had been faking it, he had just saved her life, and now she was scolding him. Moreover, she understood that he was Seth’s friend, and that made him more conscious of whom she might select as a potential husband.
She touched his hand gently. “I apologize. I should not have spoken to you like that. It is the heat, bringing out that rare monster in me.”
