Page 26 of Harpy of the Ton
“What was that about?” Dunton asked. She leaned toward him and muttered something. Then Dunton turned and stared at Lawrence before curling his lips into a sneer. “Quite so,” he said. “The ditch is where he belongs.”
Then they resumed their path along the road disappearing at the far end.
Spiteful creature! First she’d ruined him, now she humiliated him—taking pleasure from both acts. But, despite her cruelty, he found himself wanting only one thing.
To see her smile—not the cold smile of calculation, but a genuine smile of pleasure.
How might those beautiful eyes look, illuminated with joy?
But, given the future she had consigned herself to, joy would forever elude her.
Chapter Seven
The bonfire crackled,distorting the air with ripples of heat as smoke rose into the sky. Flames licked over the book, curling around the pages like a caress, until they twisted and distorted, then finally surrendered, disintegrating into ash.
But her triumph was replaced by self-loathing and a deeply rooted throb of fear, a thick, advancing tide. And in the background…
The shadow of death.
Bella!
Her name, uttered in a shrill scream, crackled in the air as the fire raged before her, angry red wraiths reaching out with clawlike fingers…
“Mama!”
She thrust out her hands to fend off the inferno, then threw back her head and screamed. Pain exploded in her mind, and she fell back. The ground met her body with a jolt, and she opened her eyes.
The flames had gone—replaced by the cold blue light of the dawn.
“That’s quite enough ofthat,” a sharp voice said.
Arabella blinked, and her vision cleared.
She was in her bedchamber. Aunt Kathleen stood beside the bed, in her dressing gown, reams of lace rippling in the air as she moved.
“F-forgive me, Aunt,” Arabella said. “I was dreaming.”
“I don’t care. You could be heard halfway across the house. Most unbecoming.”
“But…”
“Don’t answer back!”
“But I always have that dream,” Arabella protested. “I’ve told you before. It ends with a burning building, and a voice calling my name—like a memory reaching out. Then it slips away.”
“There’s nothing to remember, child,” her aunt said. “Your parents were killed in a fire, and your cousin sent you to me to take care of you. And I’ve been taking care of you ever since. Rather than waste your time trying to rememberthat, you should remember everything I’ve done for you and be grateful.”
“I can’t help having bad dreams.”
“Yes, you can, Arabella. It’s a matter of self-control—a quality expected in a woman of your rank. You must act with decorum in private as well as in public. What do you think the duke would do if he knew of your nighttime ravings? He’ll not want a bride who suffers from insanity.”
“I’m not insane!” Arabella cried. “How can you—Ouch!”
She let out a shriek as her aunt slapped her across the face a second time.
“Isaid, that’s enough! Even if the duke didn’t hear you, the servants are about. And you know whatthey’relike.”
Arabella flinched at the contempt in her aunt’s tone. “Tell me what they’re like, Aunt.”
