Page 14 of A Virgin for His Grace
Once again, his words seemed to carry meanings beyond their surface interpretation, and Arabella found herself struggling to maintain her composure under his penetrating stare.
As the evening drew to a close and they prepared to retireto their respective chambers, Devon offered his arm to escort the ladies from the dining room. Arabella found herself walking beside him through the candlelit corridors, acutely aware of his warmth and strength, the subtle scent of his cologne and the way he moved with such predatory grace.
"I do hope you will make full use of the library during my absence tomorrow," he said quietly as they paused outside the entrance to the blue suite. "I believe you will find much there to interest you."
"Thank you, Your Grace," Arabella managed, her voice slightly breathless despite her efforts to appear unaffected. "I shall look forward to exploring your collection more thoroughly."
Devon's smile was enigmatic. "As shall I, Miss Greystone. As shall I."
Chapter 5
The second day of Arabella's residence at Ravenshollow Manor dawned bright and clear, with Devon departing early for his appointment with his solicitor and leaving the two women to their own devices. Livia seemed more animated than she had been the previous day, chattering excitedly about her plans for the morning as they shared breakfast in the sunny morning room.
"I thought we might begin with some preliminary lessons in deportment," Arabella suggested as they finished their meal. "Not that your posture requires correction, but there are certain subtle techniques that can enhance one's presence in company."
Livia nodded eagerly. "Devon has engaged dancing masters and deportment instructors before, but I confess I found them rather intimidating. They seemed to expect instant perfection."
"Perfection is overrated," Arabella said with a smile. "Authenticity is far more attractive than artificial accomplishment. We shall focus on helping you feel comfortable in your own skin rather than forcing you into some predetermined mold."
They spent the morning in the music room, with Arabella providing gentle guidance on posture, movement, and the art of graceful conversation. Livia proved to be an apt pupil, her natural elegance needing only minor refinement to achieve true poise.
"You have a gift for this," Livia observed as they paused for refreshment. "Most instructors make one feel as though every natural impulse is wrong. You make it seem effortless."
"Because it should be effortless," Arabella replied. "True grace comes from confidence, not from rigid adherence to arbitrary rules. Once you believe in your own worth, everything else follows naturally."
As the afternoon wore on, they moved to the drawing room for practice in the art of receiving callers and managing social conversation. Livia's progress was remarkable, her initial shyness giving way to genuine animation as she gained confidence in her abilities.
"I begin to think I might actually survive the Season," she confided as they settled into comfortable chairs by the window. "You make it all seem so much less frightening than I had imagined."
"The Season should be enjoyed, not endured," Arabella assured her. "You are a lovely, intelligent young woman with much to offer. Any gentleman worthy of your regard will recognise that immediately."
Livia blushed with pleasure at the compliment, but her expression grew thoughtful. "And what of you, Arabella? Surely you must have had many suitors during your own Seasons. Why did you never marry?"
The question struck closer to home than Arabella cared to admit. "I suppose I never found a gentleman who could accept me as I am rather than as he wished me to be. Too many menseek wives who will serve as decorative additions to their lives rather than true partners."
"How lonely that must have been," Livia said softly. "To be surrounded by admirers yet never truly seen."
Arabella felt a pang of recognition at the younger woman's words. Indeed, that was exactly how she had felt during her three Seasons. Constantly observed yet fundamentally misunderstood, valued for her accomplishments and connections rather than her authentic self.
"Perhaps," she said quietly, "that is why I found myself in my current circumstances. Sometimes it takes a fall from grace to discover what one truly value."
Before Livia could respond to this rather cryptic comment, they were interrupted by a soft knock on the drawing room door. Mrs. Henderson appeared with a tray; her usual composed expression slightly flustered.
"Begging your pardon, Miss Greystone, but there's been a delivery for you. Rather unusual, if I may say so."
"A delivery?" Arabella frowned, unable to imagine what might have been sent to her at Ravenshollow Manor. "What manner of delivery?"
"Flowers, miss. Quite an elaborate arrangement, with a card. The gentleman was most insistent that they be delivered immediately."
Arabella's stomach clenched with sudden apprehension.Surely Devon had not... but no, he was meeting with his solicitor and would hardly be sending flowers to his sister's paid companion. Yet who else knew of her current residence?
"Please have them brought in, Mrs. Henderson," she said, striving to keep her voice steady despite her growing unease.
The arrangement that appeared moments later was indeed elaborate; an enormous bouquet of hothouse roses in shades of pink and cream, their heady fragrance filling the drawing room with almost overwhelming sweetness. Nestled among the blooms was a small white card bearing her name in elegant script.
Arabella's hands trembled slightly as she opened the card, dreading what she might find within. The message was brief but unmistakable:
To the enchanting Miss Greystone. May these flowers bring beauty to brighten your temporary exile. Your devoted admirer awaits your return to society. —J.W.
