Page 65 of Wickedly Yours
Rowan’s parents questioned him on a variety of subjects in which he gave pat answers. He laughed and entertained them with bits of gossip, as if he spent his days flitting about thetonenjoying all the delights society offered. He never mentioned the textile mills nor the rail line he would soon build. There was no discussion of steam, a topic Rowan debated with her endlessly. Her husband worked either with his solicitor or in his study, brow wrinkled in concentration. He employed two secretaries. Sometimes if he were completely immersed Rowan would lose all track of time and Arabella had to remind him to eat.
He caught her eye as he twirled the stem of his glass, a silent plea for understanding.
Rowan was rather skilled at projecting an amused, devil may care attitude which for some reason his parents admired. The only mention of anything serious was a brief conversation on the repairs needed to a roof at one of Lord Marsh’s holdings which Rowan promised to see to.
The Dowager had mentioned Rowan once had an elder brother who perished many years ago. Arabella had broached the subject once, but her husband put her off. After seeing tonight’s display, she figured out quickly that Rowan’s elder brother had not only been the heir, but Lady Marsh’s favorite. Arabella understood Rowan’s behavior as she was well-versed in pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
But I’m not any longer.
Turning her attention to Petra, Arabella was mildly successful in getting Rowan’s sister to speak about the Season. While Petra mentioned several young gentlemen’s names, Lord Percival Dunning was not one of them. Arabella almost felt sorry for Petra. Clearly Lady Marsh had already mapped out her daughter’s future.
Gratefully she pushed back from the table as the meal ended. Rowan had spoken little to her as his parents managed to monopolize most of the conversation. Lady Marsh chattered throughout the meal deliberately excluding Arabella. She’d even brought up Lady Gwendolyn several times.
“Rowan, let us retire for a drink before joining the ladies.” Lord Marsh clasped Rowan’s arm and nodded.
Arabella watched with dismay as they retreated to enjoy a brandy and a cheroot. Determined to continue to project a serene manner, she followed Lady Marsh and Petra to the drawing room, comparing the situation to a felon being forced to the gallows. Or perhaps Marie Antoinette on her way to the guillotine. Nothing positive could come of her spending time with Rowan’s mother and sister. The separation of the sexes after dinner was a ridiculous tradition and just now, Arabella wished fervently it didn’t exist. The urge to stay with Rowan was so strong, she nearly turned on her heel to follow him.
Lady Marsh immediately perched on the divan, reaching out to grab her daughter’s hand, forcing Petra to sit next to her, leaving Arabella to choose one of the uncomfortable looking chairs across from them.
“I believe I’ll have a sherry.” Lady Marsh intoned to a waiting servant, not bothering to offer a sherry to Arabella.
She wouldn’t wish one anyway. Sherry was not something Arabella cared for. In the time she’d been married she had enjoyed wine with her husband and tried spirits, but nothing so missish as sherry. She wondered what Lady Marsh would do if she asked politely for a glass of scotch. While she didn’t care for the aftereffects, Arabella thought becoming numb to the veiled insults of her mother-in-law held vast appeal.
As she settled herself in the chair, Arabella decided she’d had quite enough of Lady Marsh’s behavior. Clasping her hands in her lap she surveyed both women with a bold stare.
Petra returned her gaze instead of looking away as she used to. It appeared Rowan’s sister had gained additional backbone. Likely Jemma’s influence.
“How did you enjoy Lady Galsped’s fete the other night?”
It took Arabella a moment to realize Lady Marsh addressed her. She would not meet Arabella’s eyes but glanced instead at a painting on the wall.
Perhaps she thinks I have the power to turn her to stone should she look directly at me.
“I found Lord and Lady Galsped to be excellent hosts,” Arabella answered, “and the music to be delightful.” She flushed slightly thinking of what had comeafterthe evening at the Galspeds. The things Rowan had done to her. “I danced.”
Lady Marsh pursed her lips and turned to her daughter. “Did you know, Petra, Lady Gwendolyn attended?” Her eyes slid to Arabella. “Are you acquainted with Lady Gwendolyn, Arabella?”
Arabella’s hand twitched against her skirts. “We’ve been introduced.” She kept her tone mild.
“Such adeargirl. Quite a catch.” Lady Marsh sipped at her sherry and shrugged. “I appreciate the fact she is forgiving of mistakes and exhibits patience. One never knows when the wheels of fate will turn in another direction.”
“Mother.” Petra hissed under her breath in admonishment. “Stop.”
Good Lord, was Petra trying to protect Arabella? The very idea was absurd, but possibly she’d underestimated Perfectly Perfect Petra.
“Lord White is highly regarded in Parliament. He’s told me there are ways to correct mistakes, especially those made under duress. Not common, of course, but possible.”
This time Petra frowned in horror at her mother.
Lady Marsh insinuated, and none too subtly, Rowan could seek a divorce under the condition that he’d been forced to marry Arabella and, in the process, made clear her preference for the saintly Lady Gwendolyn.
At least now I know the source of the gossip I heard earlier today.
The idea Rowan could no longer be hers nearly caused a hitch in her breathing. Divorce or annulment were ludicrous, but as she looked at the determination stamped across Lady Marsh’s face, Arabella decided the notionwasn’tso ridiculous. Nor impossible. And the thought was quite painful. The hurt rapidly crystalized into something much more useful.
Anger.
“Lady Marsh.” Arabella stood and walked over to her mother-in-law. She tilted her chin at just the right angle of arrogance and laced her words with ice. It was time to remind Lady Marsh exactly who she insulted. Arabella might be a baron’s wife by marriage, but shewasthe daughter and sister of a duke, neatly outranking Lady Marsh.
