Page 6 of Snowed-in with Scandal
Strangely, the more he mulled over the idea, it was with growing conviction that he knew that he could not squander this opportunity for answers.
Surely…finally…Nicholas would hear her version of events. And even as he thought that, a tiny flame of hope flickered in his breast.
Perhaps it would be revealed that Arabella had some reasonable and rational answer for what she had done.
He took a circuitous route via the long gallery. It was calming to gaze upon portraits of ancestors long dead and feel the coldness of armour from battles fought in a previous age. Such things helped to ground him, to remind him that life was very short and that he must seize it with both hands. That happiness was out there if he could only put his demons to rest.
Yes! And perhaps forgive.
The thought stopped him cold. Could he truly forgive her? The very possibility seemed both terrifying and liberating. To let go of the anger that had sustained him through four years of exile, to risk his heart again...
As he stood before a portrait of some long-dead Quamby lord, who gazed down with painted eyes full of stern wisdom, Nicholas felt something shift within his chest. Perhaps it was time to stop running from the past and face it head-on.
Lost in these thoughts, he almost missed the soft murmur of voices drifting from a nearby chamber. He paused, recognizing one voice immediately—Arabella’s, though pitched low and urgent.
He should walk on. A gentleman did not eavesdrop. And yet something in her tone made him hesitate, then step closer to the partially open door.
“...must leave as soon as possible, Sarah.” He frowned. Why should Arabella’s voice carry such a note of desperation?
“But milady, the snow is thick and the roads are treacherous?—”
“I don’t care. Pack the bare essentials. I cannot delay any longer. You know it too, Sarah!”
Nicholas pressed himself against the wall, his heart hammering. Leave? She was planning to leave? And why the urgency?
“Please, m’lady, can you not wait a day?” Sarah’s voice was worried. “Perhaps if you explained?—”
“No!” Arabella’s response was sharp. “Before anyone discovers what I’ve done... Sarah, you must understand, everything depends on my getting there before him.”
Discovers what I’ve done?The words landed badly. What else was his once true love guilty of, Nicholas wondered, his pain ratcheting up.
“But the documents are safely hidden, m’lady. No one will ever find them.”
“But they might! No, Sarah! You know what we learned. If he has suspicions that there are incriminating documents to be found, then I need to get there as soon as possible. I cannot takeanychances!”
“Milady,surelythere’s another way?—”
“There is no other way!” The anguish in Arabella’s voice cut Nicholas to the quick. She was afraid of someone?
“I’ve made my choice, and now I must live with the consequences. You must stay here and make my excuses. And you must send that letter to Lord Pemberton! You will do that for me, won’t you? As for the rest, tell everyone I’m ill. I don’t care what you tell them. Just don’t tell them the truth!”
Nicholas felt suddenly lightheaded. Every fragile hope he’d been nurturing crumbled to dust.
Arabella was on her way to meet someone? Or get to something before he did? A lover she had cheated? That’s what it sounded like. And now, although the storm had delayed her, yet she was so desperate to continue because she had lies to cover up.
And Nicholas… God help him, he had been prepared to forgive her. Had been ready to believe in her innocence, to think that perhaps she’d had noble reasons for her betrayal.
What a fool he was. What an utter, besotted fool.
The woman he’d glimpsed tonight at the piano—vulnerable, trembling, seemingly full of regret—it had all been an act. She was exactly what society had painted her: a calculating fortune hunter who would do anything, betray anyone, for material gain.
The conversation between Arabella and her maid continued in hushed tones, but Nicholas had heard enough. More than enough. He backed away from the door on silent feet, his chest tight with a familiar pain that now felt oddly welcome.
At least now he knew the truth. At least now he could stop torturing himself with impossible dreams of reconciliation.
By the time he reached his own chamber, Nicholas felt strangely calm. The tiny flame of hope that had flickered in his breast was thoroughly extinguished, and in its place was something harder, colder—but infinitely safer.
Let her go to her mysterious lover. Let her continue whatever sordid scheme she’d been pursuing. He was well rid of her, and with grim satisfaction, he realized that being trapped by the storm with her had served a purpose after all.
