Page 34 of Wickedly Yours
“I wouldn’t know for I’ve never played cards with Malden. I will let you know if I ever do.” She pushed a rock around with her toe. “I’m sure he only wished the use of your fleet, though why I’m not sure.” Arabella gave Nick a curious look. “You know why though, don’t you?”
“I suspect there are several reasons. But you may perish the thought he only wishes an alliance. I’ve told him he will have the use of the ships and does not need to marry you to do so. Rest assured I did not coerce Malden. He wishes to do the right thing and his reasons are his own.”
He threw an arm around her and pulled her close in a hug before standing. “I am a great believer in fate. I also believe there is something between you and Malden. Do not be so anxious to discard it.” Nick pulled her from the bench. “Come. I asked Cook to make you cherry tarts. Your favorite.”
23
Acircus freak would receive less attention.
Arabella lifted her chin in defiance, determined to ignore the dozens of eyes watching as she made her way to the box of the Earl of Marsh. Whispers and the snapping of fans followed her every move, though in all fairness she supposed some of the gossip was directed at her brother and sister-in-law.
As she followed demurely behind her brother, she reminded herself that no one attending tonight knew anything about her association with Corbett. Not a soul knew she’d agreed to being abducted. A carefully placed word here and there assured all of London she and Rowan were merely overzealous lovers who’d wished the Duke of Dunbar’s approval. Let them murmur in confusion that no one had ever seen them together or knew of their mutual affection. Many doubted such a thing, preferring to think Rowan was forced to marry her. Or perhaps she’d tricked him into ruining her. No one thought Rowan couldactuallywantto marry her. Especially Lord White, who by all accounts was quite angry Rowan would not be wedding his daughter.
It had all the makings of a Greek tragedy.
The Duke of Dunbar, resplendent in black, hovered protectively over his still slender duchess while Arabella followed a step behind. The crowd parted around them, keeping back a respectful distance, the ladies nearly toppling over in an effort to give a proper curtsey. The gentlemen bowed politely, some even greeted the duke in a friendly manner, but not many. Arabella felt a surge of pity for Nick, though after so many years he was probably used to such treatment.
The Duke of Dunbar wore a tiny smile on his lips as if amused by the blatant show of fear and respect showered upon him. Jemma was not nearly so entertained. For every remotely insulting look the duke received was returned tenfold by his duchess. Jemma tilted her head arrogantly, allowing herself to dangle in a reckless manner from her husband’s arm, a chilling look of warning given to anyone who thought to disparage Nick.
Arabella watched her sister-in-law with renewed respect. She had spent so much time convinced Jemma was merely a fortune hunter who wished to use Nick for her own ends, she’d never truly considered the depth of her sister-in-law’s feelings. Those feelings were on display this evening. JemmalovedNick.
I very nearly took her from him.Regret and relief mingled inside her that she had not succeeded. Because of Malden.
She smoothed down the rustling silk of her skirts hoping Malden would understand the dress was a peace offering of sorts. Created of deep indigo, the gown’s color was so dark it appeared black. Tiny bits of brilliants had been sewn into the skirt, sparkling beneath the lamps until Arabella appeared to be lit by blue fire. The heart-shaped bodice clung to her curves, pushing up the swell of her breasts. Honestly, she felt a bit naked with so much of her skin exposed but in comparison to many of the gowns worn by the other ladies in attendance, hers would still be considered prim rather than daring. The thick strands of her hair had been piled atop her head in a series of luxurious waves, with several curls left to dangle down her back. A pair of sapphires hung from her ears, a Christmas gift from Grandfather. She’d never actually worn the earrings before tonight as her usual wardrobe didn’t require jewels. The earrings went perfectly with the gown, she thought, and had nothing whatsoever to do with pleasing Malden.
Liar.
Entering the box, her eyes searched the small area, but his tall form was nowhere to be seen, only Lord and Lady Marsh, along with Lady Petra, Malden’s sister seemed to be in attendance. Arabella’s stomach dropped.
Malden was not here.
Perhaps he’d finally come to his senses and decided to end their association. That would be rich. Her first instinct tonight had been to plead a headache and stay home safe in bed. Or wear a gown of pewter satin.
Nick and Jemma greeted Lord and Lady Marsh with smiles and warm hugs. Petra even giggled at something Nick said. When the trio turned to Arabella they looked askance as if she might suddenly attack them.
“Lady Arabella.” The Earl of Marsh took her hand politely, his eyes flat and suspicious upon her.
“Lord Marsh. Lady Marsh.” Arabella tried to keep her features serene and pleasant. “Thank you for the invitation this evening.” Her manners were flawless. She could feel her brother’s approval.
“Goodness, what a lovely gown, Lady Arabella. The color is magnificent.” Lady Marsh was equally polite although her dislike of Arabella bled into her voice. “We are so pleased you could join us.”
Arabella nodded, lowering her eyes. She’d no wish for Lady Marsh to notice the twitching of her lips. The woman’s abhorrence for Arabella was blatantly obvious. Apparently, the affection Lord and Lady Marsh felt for Nick was not to be extended to his sister.
A small frown crossed her brother’s lips. He too noticed Lady Marsh’s attitude.
Jemma gave his arm a tight squeeze and a look passed between them.
“Lady Arabella.” Petra, Malden’s sister, dipped into a perfect curtsey, her dark blonde hair glowing in the lamp light. Petra was heartbreakingly beautiful, with her lovely oval face and rosebud of a mouth. Her words were polite but her gaze no less hostile than her mother’s.
“Lady Petra.” Arabella wished to ask after Malden, but fear kept her from doing so. What if hehadbegged off? The thought was not appealing. His family detested her, that much was clear and her typical method of dealing with such…censure, would be a well-placed scathing remark.
I promised Nick I’d behave.
Lady Petra was clearlyappalledat the thought of Arabella sharing the Marsh box and unable to maintain her polite demeanor, took Jemma’s arm and moved away. The Marsh box was situated to the left of the stage on one of the balconies with a spectacular view of the stage. If Arabella had cared about the opera in the least, she would have been thrilled at the view.
Petra led Jemma to the first row of seats closest to the railing. She giggled and clasped Jemma’s hands, obviously happy to see her cousin. Lady Marsh barely gave Arabella another glance before joining Jemma and Petra. Lord Marsh asked Nick something in a low tone and they moved to the far corner of the box.
Lord Marsh was probably trying to convince Nick to send her back to Wales.
