Page 23 of Snowed-in with Scandal
“That went rather well, don’t you think?” he said, moving to close the door behind the departing guests. “Mr. Morley seemed quite convinced of your...priorities.”
Arabella sank back into her chair, her legs no longer able to support her. Through the window, she could see the group climbing into their carriage, Nicholas’s tall figure unmistakable even in the gathering dusk. He didn’t look back at the house. Didn’t spare a single glance for the woman he was leaving behind.
“You see how easily men abandon women they believe to be unworthy?” Algernon observed with cruel amusement. “How quickly their devotion turns to disgust when they think their beloved has chosen wealth over love?”
Through the partly open window, she heard the carriage wheels crunch on gravel as it pulled away, carrying with it any hope Arabella had harbored of rescue, of understanding, of redemption. Nicholas was gone, and he would never know the truth. He would live the rest of his life believing she had betrayed him twice—once for Lord Lushington’s fortune, and again for Lord Pemberton’s diamonds.
The sound of the carriage faded into the distance, and with it, the last of Arabella’s composure crumbled. She buried her face in her hands and wept—for her lost love, for her impossible situation, for the cruel irony that in trying to save everyone she cared about, she had destroyed the only chance she had ever had for true happiness.
“There, there,” Algernon said mockingly. “I’m sure Lord Pemberton will console you adequately. Now, shall we return to those documents? I believe we were interrupted at a rather crucial moment.”
But Arabella could only weep, her heart shattered as completely as if it had been made of glass and struck with a hammer. Nicholas was gone, and she was utterly, irrevocably alone.
CHAPTER 16
The carriage had barely cleared the gates of Lushington Hall before Nicholas slumped back against the leather seat, his carefully maintained composure finally cracking. His hands were shaking—actually shaking—and he pressed them against his knees to still them.
“Good God,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “Good God, what have I done?”
“You played your part perfectly,” Lady Quamby said softly, though her usual brightness was dimmed by what they had just witnessed. “I don’t think I could have managed such... convincing cruelty.”
“Convincing?” Nicholas laughed bitterly. “It was real enough, wasn’t it? Every hateful word I spoke to her—I meant them once. I believed them.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Did you see her face when I wished her joy of her latest lover? I might as well have struck her.”
“You had no choice,” Lady Fenton said firmly. “If Algernon suspected we were there to rescue her?—”
“But we’re not, are we?” Nicholas’s voice was raw with self-loathing. “At least…not now. We drove away and left her there.We abandoned her to that snake’s mercy just as surely as if we’d never come at all.”
“Only temporarily,” Colonel Shankshaft interjected. “You know we needed to assess the situation and confirm our suspicions before we could decide our next step.”
“Our suspicions were well and truly confirmed.” Nicholas turned on him with barely controlled fury. “The man all but confessed he’s holding her prisoner! Did you not hear how he spoke of ‘guidance’ and ‘protecting her from poor judgment’? She’s trapped there, and we—I—left her believing herself utterly abandoned.”
The carriage fell into uncomfortable silence, broken only by the rhythmic clatter of wheels on stone. Nicholas stared out at the darkening countryside, his mind churning with plans half-formed and abandoned. How could he get back to her? How could he rescue her without endangering her further?
And beneath it all, a more painful question: Why was he so determined to save a woman he believed had betrayed him twice? For even if she was prisoner to the new Lord Lushington, it was only because she’d betrayed Nicholas to become wife to the man’s cousin.
“Stop the carriage,” Lady Quamby said suddenly.
“What?” Nicholas looked up to see her peering out the window with alarm.
“There’s a rider approaching at considerable speed. He looks—oh my goodness, he looks quite desperate.”
The carriage rolled to a halt as their coachman called out a greeting to the oncoming horseman. Through the window, Nicholas could see a young man on a lathered horse, his clothes travel-stained and his face flushed with exertion.
“I say,” the rider called out breathlessly, “might you be traveling from Lushington Hall? I’m looking for my sister—Lady Lushington. I was told she might be found there.”
Nicholas stiffened. The family resemblance was unmistakable—the same clear blue eyes, the same determined set to the jaw. This had to be James Beecham, Arabella’s brother.
“Indeed, we are,” Lady Quamby replied before Nicholas could stop her. “You must be Mr. Beecham. Your sister spoke of you.”
“Did she?” James’s face lit up with relief. “Thank God. I’ve been riding all day trying to catch up with her. Is she well? I have the most marvelous news to share.”
“Marvelous news?” Lady Fenton inquired.
“Oh yes! You see, I’ve finally managed to clear my name of those dreadful charges from five years ago. Took me this long to gather the evidence, but I’ve done it at last. I can prove I was innocent of embezzling from the regiment.”
Nicholas felt the world shift around him. “Innocent?”
“Completely! It was actually Sergeant Morrison who was stealing the funds—had been for months before I ever arrived. I only borrowed a mere trifle. But he was clever about it, made it look as though I was the culprit who’d takeneverythingwhen the discrepancy was discovered.” James’s chest swelled with pride. “Took me years to track down witnesses, but I’ve got sworn statements now from three men who saw Morrison with the money. I’m presenting my case to the War Office in two days.”
