Page 149 of Harpy of the Ton
“I know the way to my chamber,” she said.
“The master wishes me to accompany you.”
There was little point in arguing when all she craved was the sanctuary of her chamber. She swept past the footman and climbed the staircase, aware of his heavy footsteps following her.
“I’ll expect you at dinner,” Dunton said. “Eight o’clock. Don’t be late. Your maid will help you dress.”
Ignoring him, she continued her ascent.
“My dear!” he cried, an edge to his voice. A thick hand grasped her upper arm, and she drew in a sharp breath at the squeeze of pain.
“The master asked you a question, your ladyship,” the footman growled.
Quelling the tremor in her stomach, she stopped and turned. “Of course, Your Grace.” Bella forced a smile. “I’ll be there.”
Dunton gave a self-satisfied smile. “That’s better, my dear. I’m glad to see you’re coming to your senses. Thomas, I believe you can release Lady Arabella. She knows her place—do you not, my dear?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” she said coldly.
The footman released Bella’s arm, then followed her to her chamber.
“I’ll send for your maid, your ladyship,” he said as they reached the door.
“There’s no need—”
“Master’s orders. You’re not to be left unattended. For your safety.”
“Then bring her to me at once, Thomas.”
He ushered her inside, then closed the door behind her. Now alone, she let the façade disintegrate. The tears she’d kept at bay formed hot, fat droplets that splashed onto her cheeks. She held a fist against her mouth to suppress her cry.
“Lawrence…” A sob escaped her. “Why did you make me fall in love with you?”
The door burst open, and she jerked back, retreating further into the chamber until she collided with the bed.
Connie stood in the doorway.
“Lady Arabella!”
The maid stepped forward, arms outstretched. Bella’s heart almost cracked at the concern in Connie’s eyes—almost as if she cared for her—and she fought the urge to run into the girl’s arms.
Then the footman appeared, towering behind the maid.
“Connie, bring me a fresh gown,” Bella said. “And I require a bath. Immediately.”
Her smile fading, the maid addressed the footman. “Thomas, can you bring hot water for Lady Arabella’s bath, please? Quick as you can.”
She curtseyed to Bella. “I’ll bring you a fresh gown, Lady Arabella. Shall I choose one for you, or bring a selection?”
“Do I look as if I care, Connie?”
“Of course, Lady Arabella, forgive me. I’ll be back directly.”
The maid slipped through the adjoining door to the dressing room, while the footman remained in the doorway, his gaze wandering over Bella’s form, a flare of lust in his eyes.
“Don’t just stand there,” Bella said. “I want my bath.”
The footman’s mouth curled into a grin.
