Page 4 of Wickedly Yours
“You.” A dizzying sensation made her ears buzz as she regarded the man before her. He looked only slightly different from their last meeting. Still boyishly handsome, the smug grin he perpetually wore gracing his lips.
“Lady Arabella,” he said softly. “How lovely to see you again.”
3
Augustus Corbett, lately of Bermuda and the cause of Arabella’s exile, sat back, his handsome features full of amusement as he enjoyed her shock at the sight of him. He adjusted the sleeves of his once fine coat, now tattered and frayed around the cuffs and edges. Several buttons were missing from the front or dangling by a mere thread.
“I have a proposition for you.”
Arabella sat back against the ragged seat cushions, trying to ignore the distasteful stain in the corner of the floor hovering near the edge of her skirts. The coach was filthy and looked as if it had been used to cart about a herd of orphans. She gave Corbett a brittle smile. He didn’t frighten her, not in the least. Corbett always reminded her of a child about to throw a tantrum.
“Is there a reason you stopped my coach? Accosted me and my aunt? Surely you could have sent me a note or visited me in Wales for tea.” She gave him a pointed look. “Well, possibly not as my brother is determined to rid the world of your presence.”
“Arabella.” He shook his head and a shock of brown hair fell over his brow. “Accost is such anuglyword. I merely wished an opportunity to speak to you. And as for tea, well there were too many fierce Welshmen surrounding Twinings to make that a possibility.”
“I have nothing to say to you. You manipulated me.”
“My dear Arabella,manipulateis rather strong. I prefer,influenced. Mother may have bent the truth a bit about some things, but not about the deceit of Jemma’s father, William. Hedidcommit treason and allow the blame to fall on your father, that much is true. As to the shooting which made you an orphan…” Corbett lifted his hands carelessly. “Who is to say?”
“Your father protected him.” Arabella needed no reminder of the death of her parents and the horror she witnessed as a child.
“True. My father was the Lord Governor of Bermuda and gave William a safe place to hide from your family for many years. What can I say? They were friends.” His gaze traveled up the front of her serviceable brown wool traveling dress, seeming to strip it from her with a glance. “You wear such staid garments, Lady Arabella. Covered from neck to toe. One wonders what you are hiding?”
The question unnerved her, as did his attention. Arabella had spent a lifetime taking great care to be unattractive to the opposite sex. She did not elicit flattery nor flirtation. Gray and brown were preferred for her wardrobe, though she did not stint on the quality of the fabric. No embellishment. A severe cut, suitable for a matron or a vicar’s wife. Not so much as a hint of her generous bosom could be seen.
“Instead of being concerned over my clothing, you would do better to be concerned for your welfare. It is doubtful you will survive another meeting with my brother.”
He had the grace to flinch at her words. “I purchased passage to America. I imagine your brother assumes me to be in Boston else he would have sent a small army to escort you back to London instead of a young boy and two questionable footmen. Besides, he never found me to be particularly daring. Or devious.” Corbett’s tone was smug. “Won’t he be surprised? Besides the Devil of Dunbar could care less aboutyou,Arabella.”
“Do not call him that.” Arabella hated the reminder that London society considered Nick to be cursed. As angry as she was at him, he was still her brother.
Corbett gave a choked laugh. “Ever the protective sister.” He folded his hands into a peak and peered at her over his fingers. “How did you enjoy your banishment to Wales?”
Heat flew up her cheeks as his words hit home.
“Aren’t you the least curious why I went to all this trouble? Placing two men in your brother’s employ? Stopping your coach?”
Arabella opened her mouth to spit out a biting comment but stopped. Shewascurious. Of course, any intelligent young lady, perhaps one who wasn’t still smarting over being sent far away from home as punishment,wouldhave started screaming.
Glancing out the window to her left, she peered through the grime to see the Dunbar coach rock slightly. John and Teddy Mac were still outside in the muddy road. “What could you possibly offer me? You’ve nothing I want.”
“You are such a delightfully sour creature, Arabella.” His voice lowered into a silky whisper, “your reputation in thetonis well deserved.”
“You know nothing of my reputation,” she snapped. Her reputation wasunimpeachable. Her entire life had been spent struggling to keep free of the gossip that swirled around the Duke of Dunbar and her family, like moths circling a lantern. Mindful of her father’s reputation as a drunkard, not a drop of alcohol ever touched her lips. Charlotte, her mother, was a known wanton. God forbid anyone should ever hear a flirtatious comment from Arabella. She’d never even been to France least her loyalty to the Crown be questioned as her father’s had been. “I am above reproach.”
“Yes, my dear. You most certainly are. Every action is proper and orchestrated. You are a paragon of morality, a bastion of discipline, a woman who demands the respect of society. A woman whose dour manner and constant frowning have warned away all but the most determined. No matter how many orphans and widows you support, or ladies luncheons you host, you will always shoulder your family’s reputation. But I suppose fear is preferable to frivolity.”
Arabella’s fingers twitched against her skirts as she absorbed every word, knowing how close to the truth he came.
“Despite your best efforts to garner a place for yourself you are not well-liked in theton. No one regards you as a friend save Miranda. At best you are an acquaintance, invited so as not to insult your powerful and wealthy family.”
Arabella sucked in her breath.
“But I feel certain you could have tolerated such treatment and convinced yourself you were happy, until your brother had the audacity to wed the daughter ofthetraitor. You’ve devoted your life to being, as you say,above reproachand your sacrifices mean nothing to him.” He slapped his thighs and sat back. “How that mustrankleyou. If I were in your shoes, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have committed murder by now. I wonder the news of your brother’s affection for Jemma didn’t hasten your grandfather’s demise.”
Arabella bit the inside of her mouth so hard she tasted blood, for she had often thought the same thing. “Do not speak of my grandfather.” The previous Duke of Dunbar had gone to his grave cursing Nick for not inflicting the revenge the Dunbar honor demanded.
“Thankfully, Lady Miranda begged for your return to London. Your dearest friend. How she must long to rub her marriage, a great love-match, in your face.”
