Page 9 of Wickedly Yours
Corbett’s grip on her arm was tight as he approached a husky, red faced man holding two empty tankards of ale in one hand, wiping the sweat off of his brow with the other. Seeing Corbett, he stopped and nodded.
“Can I help you, my lord?”
Arabella’s nose wrinkled. The man smelled as if he’d fallen into a bucket of ale.
“I’m in need of a room where my wife can rest for a bit before we continue our journey. We’d also like to have a bit of supper.”
Wife. He called her his wife.Nausea filled her and she opened her mouth to object but stopped.It will be true soon enough.
“I do, my lord. One last room. A bit small and not our finest, but you can eat and rest. Lucky you came now. If the rain continues, you’d be fortunate to find even space in the taproom. He waved to a thin, harried girl who was making her way through the taproom. “Bess will show you up.”
The sudden urge to flee was so strong, Arabella’s feet actually moved back and forth.
Bess gave them a tired smile but led them up a flight of narrow stairs and down a poorly lit hall. She stopped in front of one door and swung it open to reveal a small, sparsely furnished room. A bed sat against one wall covered with a faded quilt. Even from the door Arabella could see the lumps in the mattress.
Probably full of vermin.
The center of the room held a scarred wooden table and three battered chairs. A chest of drawers stood against another wall holding a pitcher and wash bowl.
Bess hurried to the hearth, efficiently lighting the fire. She turned and bustled out of the room to reappear a moment later with hot water, towels and a bar of soap. Arabella pulled away from Corbett to approach the warmth of the flames ablaze in the hearth and hopefully chase the chill from her skirts.
“I’ll send up something to eat for you milord. My lady.” The girl bobbed, peering at Corbett from under her lashes. “Will there be anything else?”
“A bottle of wine as well.” Corbett smiled in his charming manner and the girl giggled.
Arabella’s lip curled.Disgusting.
Reaching into a side pocket, he produced a small purse heavy with coins. Pressing several pieces of gold into the girl’s palm, he said something in a low voice before shutting the door.
The purse bore the initials M.T.Marissa Tremaine.
“Why do you have my aunt’s coin purse?” Arabella made to snatch it from his hands and Corbett sidestepped her. “You promised she wouldn’t be harmed.”
“Lady Cupps-Foster is fine. I imagine she’s on her way to London by now. Seagraves, while rather slow-witted, knows how to follow orders. I left plenty of funds to see dear Aunt Maisy home.” He presented the same charming smile he’d given the maid. “I merelyborrowedher purse. I’ll repay her once we’re wed. I promise.”
He’s lying.
The purse slid back inside his coat pocket. “I’ll give you some privacy, my dear. Don’t fret, I’ll be back soon.” He moved towards the door.
Arabella had never ‘fretted’ in her entire life. And she doubted Corbett gave a fig for her well-being. “I shall miss your delightful company.” She took great satisfaction watching the smile fade at the scorn in her voice.
He slammed the door behind him.
Arabella’s self-satisfaction dissolved at the click of the lock. Now that she was alone, without Corbett’s constant presence, the unease which had been building since she’d agreed to this terrible bargain made itself known. What had seemed like an excellent way get back at everyone in her life for all the wrongs done to her now seemed the actions of a petulant and spoiled child. She would be stuck with Corbett, a man she now knew she detested, for the remainder of her life. Her family would despise her. Miranda would be forced to avoid her. She told herself she didn’t care.
My actions are not those of an intelligent woman.
Grandfather had often praised her intellect stating that Arabella possessed more brains than most of the men in Parliament. She wondered what he would say of her acceptance of Corbett? The idea of marrying for revenge?
He would be ashamed and demand I fix the situation.
Carefully she untied the strings of her bonnet allowing it to fall from her head. She begged her hands to cease their shaking. Arabella had always considered herself to be rather fearless. One scathing look from her could freeze water. No one liked her, true, but neither did anyone in thetonrisk offending her. It struck Arabella her fearlessness was born of the fact that she’d never been intrueperil before.
Well, she was certainly in perilnow.
“Dear God, I do hope I don’t collapse into a fit of vapors,” she whispered out loud. The thought of being at Corbett’s mercy while unconscious and prone was incredibly unappealing.
Dabbing at her face with a towel, she carefully wiped away the grime beneath her chin. The action helped stall the cry of panic rapidly bubbling up her throat. She was very neatly snared in a trap she herself had willingly walked into.
