Page 34 of A Fake Courtship with the Marquess
“A mercy.” Seth winked. “What was Mother thinking, dressing you in that purple monstrosity?”
“That, being betrothed, I ought to be utterly repulsive to every gentleman in attendance,” Arabella retorted. She had never appreciated her brother’s company in the past, for he had never really been around, but she was glad of him, now.
He snickered. “At least you will be able to find peace at Haskett’s estate. You must pity whomever my bride turns out to be, for she will have to suffer the wrath and judgment of Mother in your place.”
“The poor creature.” Arabella smiled.
Just then, a shadow stretched across the brother and sister, followed by a soft clearing of the throat coming from behind her. Arabella turned, not knowing who she might find.
A grin cracked Seth’s face. “Bilverston, my good man! How splendid to see you in the South. I thought it would take a miracle to prize you away from your Northumbrian castle.”
“I am here every Season,” Lord Bilverston replied flatly, evidently missing the jest.
He was vaguely known to Arabella. A few years ago, not long after she had come out into Society, Seth had brought several friends to the Bowles Estate to hunt. Henry had not been one of them, though she could not recall why. Nevertheless, Lord Bilverston had not made much of an impression then, and he made even less of one now.
“You remember my sister?” Seth stood between the pair like a priest about to speak the wedding vows.
Lord Bilverston nodded. “Of course, Milford, or I would not have come over with the intention of greeting her.” He bowed awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Arabella.”
“Yes, quite.” She allowed him to take her hand and tried not to grimace as he kissed it, for though he was somewhat handsome, he had particularly wet lips. During their last encounter, she remembered him having little, constant crescents of white at both corners of his mouth.
Straightening up, Lord Bilverston closed his eyes rather suddenly. “Lady Arabella, would you do me the great honor of dancing the next set with me? I hear the Viennese Waltz is over for the evening, so the dances will all be proper and suitable.”
Seth bent close to his sister’s ear. “He is one of the friends I was telling you about.”
Ah…That did not inspire encouragement.
For a few tense moments, Arabella did not know how to reply. The gentleman was undeniably peculiar, his eyes still closed as he waited. She wondered if, should she refuse, he would walk away with his eyes shut. Did that make rejection easier to bear?
However, as her gaze was pulled toward the center of the ballroom, where Henry continued to whirl and circle with Olivia, a sharp spike of jealousy made her decision for her.
“I would love to, Lord Bilverston,” she said. At that moment, Henry’s gaze met hers and his smile faded.
No, Henry, do go on. Do not allow me to stop you.
After all, no one else was going to stand up for her, so why not fight back in kind and see how he liked it? She only wished Lord Powell were here, for that would have ensured the desired effect.
Chapter Sixteen
The ensuing half hour was, perhaps, the most agonizing of Henry’s life. Not only did he have to field the attentions of Lady Olivia, who seemed determined to stick to his side like a fly caught in honey, but he also had to watch some floppy-haired, pasty-skinned, wet-lipped ingrate whirling Arabella around the ballroom. To make matters worse, the fellow was an extraordinary dancer.
“Have you visited the Bowles Estate often? I used to spend summers there, though I have not in a long while. There are too many other amusements, away from the countryside,” Lady Olivia chattered on and on. “My home is in the countryside, and I could not bear to be locked up there as Arabella is. Give me London! Give me the city! Give me civilization!”
Henry had let her voice melt into the background hubbub. His attention was fixed solely on the orchestra, who were rather good, and the only couple worth watching. Or, rather, the only lady.
“Have you been to the theater recently, Lord Haskett? I saw a wonderful rendition of Twelfth Night not a fortnight ago. Or do you prefer opera? I cannot bear opera. I know it is supposed to stir emotion, but all I hear is screeching and yelling,” Lady Olivia continued, undeterred. “Do you visit the botanical gardens often? I adore the butterflies, though it is viciously hot inside those greenhouses. They ought to make them out of stone, so we might be cooler.”
Henry cast her a sideways glance, unable to resist. “That would rather defeat the point, Lady Olivia.”
“Hmm?”
“The greenhouses, Lady Olivia. That would rather defeat the point.”
Lady Olivia frowned. “I am afraid I do not understand your meaning.”
“Never mind,” he replied, knowing Arabella would have stifled a snort.
Just then, the orchestra came to the end of the piece. The partners bowed and curtseyed, and those who wished to remain did so. Henry fidgeted with his cravat, hoping he would not have to endure another half-hour of Arabella and whoever this other fellow was.
