Page 38 of Seven Swans a Swimming

Arabella could not help but laugh, and then laugh all the harder at Lady Cartier’s astonished expression. Well, really! Nathaniel was such a tease. She was going to have to get accustomed to his cheek, for she was certain that she would swiftly become the brunt of it at times.

What a relief that she knew him to be kind and gentle under all that gruffness and brashness. Nathaniel was just shy, a man who had not spent enough time with others to understand how brusque at times he could really be.

But she would learn. A rush of affection soared through Arabella as she looked at him, the man she knew she loved. She would learn, and he would learn. They would learn together.

“Now, do not tease me, Nathaniel,” said Lady Cartier reproachfully. “You know your father and I have had high hopes for this arranged marriage for many years, haven’t we, Cartier?”

“What?” said Lord Cartier’s voice from the other side of the newspaper.

Arabella could not help but giggle. To think she had felt awkward with the Cartiers when she had first arrived! It was impossible to imagine now.

And very soon, they would be. Her own family, at least. Arabella was determined, the moment she returned to London and her family returned from Chalcroft, to ask her father about a special license.

Why wait? Why wait for the rest of her life to begin when she was absolutely sure she knew what she wanted it to be?

“Well Mother, I am not sure whether you could have chosen a better partner for me,” Nathaniel was saying, making Arabella flush. “No, truly.”

He reached out a hand, and Arabella, feeling a little warm to do such a thing before his parents’ eyes, took it. His fingers were warm, encircled in hers. She could feel his pulse—or was that her own? It was hard to tell.

“I had thought myself quite of a different nature to Miss Fitzroy, but that was before I knew her,” Nathaniel said, his voice falling into seriousness for the first time that morning. “But I was wrong. We are quite the same.”

Arabella could not help but smile. “Birds of a feather flock together.”

A footman entered holding a silver tray, upon it lying one single envelope. He stepped around the table to stand by Lord Cartier and cleared his throat.

“What?” asked Lord Cartier, still behind the raised newspaper, which was laid down most bad-temperedly. “Ah, the post.”

“I still do not understand,” said Lady Cartier as her husband ripped open the letter without much thought for the seal and started reading. “What has all this got to do with birds?”

“Swans,” said Arabella with a mischievous smile at Nathaniel. He raised an eyebrow, almost as a warning sign, but there was such a delicious smile on his face that Arabella felt confident enough to continue. “We would like them, at the wedding.”

“The—the swans?”

“The seven here,” Arabella said boldly, her hand safely in Nathaniel’s.

Oh, was this what it was to be married? To know the support of your spouse is just there, waiting in the wings to encourage you whenever needed? To know that no matter what happened, they would be there, carrying you, loving you?

“Well, whatever game it is you two are playing, I hope you have joy of it,” said Lady Cartier, a little put out, but she smiled nonetheless. “It does my heart good to see you so affectionate with—”

Lord Cartier cleared his throat impressively. “Before you continue, my dear, I think it only right to read you this letter I have just received.”

Arabella was astonished to see a rather severe look on his face. She had never seen the man so serious.

“What is it?” asked his wife, clearly struck by the lack of levity in his tones.

“It is a letter,” said Lord Cartier impressively, “from Mr. Arthur Fitzroy.”

Now the entire table looked at her. Arabella frowned slightly. She could not think of a reason why her father would be writing to Lord Cartier—if he had anything to say, would he not be writing to her?

And then a horrible memory circled back into her mind. The letter. The letter she had written to her Papa.

She had not posted it—she had left it on her desk in the suite when she had seen Nathaniel walking around the lake.

But she had not seen the letter since. Was it possible…dear Lord, was it possible that someone had gone into her suite, seen the letter, addressed, sealed, ready for the post…and taken it upon themselves to post it?

Heart in her mouth, trembling slightly at the thought of what this reply from her Papa could contain, Arabella had no time to open her mouth and cease Lord Cartier’s reading of it.

“‘My dear Lord Cartier,’ your father writes,” said Lord Cartier stiffly. “‘I regret to inform you that I have received a letter from my daughter, Miss Arabella Fitzroy, stating her distaste for the match we made for our children so many years ago.’”

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