Page 74 of Wickedly Yours
Jemma stood and brushed a few stray crumbs from her skirts. “All of life is a gamble, Arabella. If you want Rowan, you must fight for him. Petra’s party is in two days and she’s already written to her brother he must be there. Gwendolyn will be in attendance and telling anyone who will listen you are to be discarded in her favor. Do you really wish to relinquish Rowan to that pea-wit?”
“No.” The words cut to the quick. She wasn’t about to let go of her husband so easily.
“Wear the dress and demand his attention.” Jemma snatched the remaining sandwich off the tray. “Arabella, he was caught off guard when Barker approached him. Yes, he was incredibly angry and disgusted with what you almost did. As we all were. But,” Jemma gave a great sigh, “even I concede that you are not the same person who made such a poor decision.”
Arabella looked down at her hands as her sister-in-law raised herself off the couch and waddled to the door. She looked over her shoulder at Arabella.
“Do not let love go so easily.”
42
Arabella paced towards her dressing room and halted at the sight of the crimson ballgown left where Edith had hung it. She shook her head, walking back into her bedroom.
“I can’t do such a thing,” she muttered out loud. “What if he rejects me outright? Gives me the cut direct in front of everyone?”
What if he doesn’t?
She spun about and headed back to the dressing room. Since Jemma’s visit, Arabella had done nothing but consider her sister-in-law’s suggestion. Wear the red dress. Attend Petra’s ball. Seduce Rowan.
But what if he no longer wants me?
Chewing on her fingernail, Arabella considered her options. She was a woman of action and rather rash decisions on occasion. Not always with the best outcome.
She shot another look at the ballgown. Could a man who didn’t want her have chosen such a dress for her? Or the undergarments that went with it?
She looked again to the door separating her rooms from Rowan’s and walked slowly towards it. Lowering her hand, she threw the lock with a soft click and swung open the door.
The faint smell of leather and tobacco invaded her nostrils along with a clean masculine scent that was all Rowan’s. She inhaled deeply almost feeling his arms around her. Walking to the enormous bed, she ran her fingers over the dark blue coverlet, remembering the nights spent on this bed naked, her body wrapped around his. A book lay on the side table, a piece of leather sticking out to mark the reader’s last page. The tome was Mr. Faraday’s, the gift she’d brought him from Thrumbadge’s. He’d been reading excerpts out loud and debating the finer points with her wearing his dressing robe and nothing else before their estrangement.
Arabella clutched a hand to her stomach, feeling his loss keenly. For the first few days after their argument she’d thought he would return to the house, but instead he fled to Surrey, so repulsed by her he couldn’t bear the sight of her. She’d survived for twenty-six years without him and could certainly continue with her life, she’d finally convinced herself. She could start afresh and move to the Continent. Maybe America, although the accent grated on her ears.
But none of those things would stop her from missing Rowan.
The thought of approaching her husband at Petra’s ball in what was essentially hostile territory was rather daunting. While she was assured he would attend the celebration for his sister, he’d not sent word to the servants to ready his chambers, nor sent her a note that he would return. He did not mean to come home to her. He had not forgiven her.
“He cannot just discard me.” Her hands clenched. “I will not allow him to do so. Not without a fight.” Jemma, though Arabella was loath to admit it, was correct. If Arabella wanted her husband, she would need to convince him of her sincerity. The alternative was to relinquish Rowan and make plans to leave London; Arabella was far too possessive to give in so easily.
Full of resolve she stalked back to her room and closed the door behind her. She purposefully did not lock it. Grabbing the bell pull she rang for Edith and a bath.
It was time for Arabella to claim her husband.
* * *
“What doyoumeanshe’s not here?”
Rowan was tired, dusty and needed to see his wife. The journey from Surrey had taken far too long, or perhaps it was only his own impatience which made it seem so. After the Duke of Dunbar left Surrey, Rowan had done nothing but try to reconcile his disappointment in what he viewed as her betrayal with his feelings for her. It was unfair for Rowan to punish the woman she was now for the mistakes made as the unpleasant girl she’d been. And he didn’t wish to spend the rest of his life missing her. The last few weeks felt as if he’d lost part of his soul.
“Forgive me, my lord. Lady Malden is not at home. She has gone out for the evening.”
Their butler, a rather portly man with the whimsical name of Oberon, looked up at Rowan with apology. “Would you like your rooms prepared my lord? We were unaware of your return.”
“Yes. Immediately. And find someone who knows where Lady Malden has gone.” Rowan regarded the butler, frustration making his voice caustic. “Now.”
Oberon bowed, his mustache quivering at Rowan’s displeasure. “Immediately, my lord.” The butler clapped his hands and a footman appeared. “See to his lordship’s things.”
Rowan raked a hand through his hair and took the stairs up to his chambers. Good God, he’d ridden as if the devil was after him and Arabella wasn’t here? She didn’t attend parties. Nor musicales. God knows she detested the opera. Where would she go? Especially alone? A flash of jealousy caused his step to falter. Had she sought a lover after he deserted her and even now was with him?
Storming into his rooms Rowan called for his valet, Parker. He’d left Parker in London when he left for Surrey, much to the valet’s displeasure.
