To Pleasure a Lady (16 page)

Marcus nodded in understanding, but when they reached the doors, he paused to gaze out at the darkened terrace. Through a part in the chintz draperies, Arabella could see the dismaying spectacle of Sybil locked in a passionate embrace with Jasper Onslow.

“Wait here,” Marcus murmured. “I can better handle this alone.”

When he stepped outside, Arabella could hear the conversation well enough.

“Ah, there you are, Miss Newstead, I have been searching for you.”

Sybil jumped two feet and scrambled to break away from her lover, then hurried to wipe her damp lips while staring at Marcus in evident chagrin. “M-my l-lord…how you startled me….”

“I could see that.” Arabella could hear the wry smile in his voice when he added lazily, “My apologies if I interrupted anything of import, but you promised me another dance.”

When Sybil looked puzzled, Arabella realized they had made no such arrangement, but before the girl could reply, Marcus addressed Jasper. “Sorry, old fellow, but I have prior claim on this little heartbreaker.” He held out his arm to Sybil. “Will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

“Y-yes, my l-lord…of course.”

Onslow scowled as Marcus led Sybil back inside, while Sybil smiled brightly and shot Arabella a triumphant look as she passed.

Quelling the unexpected prick of jealousy she felt at seeing the girl on Marcus's arm, Arabella caught his eye and offered him a look of relief and gratitude. But it was nearly two hours later before the ball ended and she had the opportunity to express her appreciation personally. When Marcus sought her out on the sidelines, she was moving toward the ballroom entrance doors, where the guests were congregating to claim their wraps and to order their carriages.

“Thank you immensely for rescuing Sybil,” Arabella said sincerely. “I will have to keep a closer eye on her in the future, but tonight you averted a potential disaster.”

“You are quite welcome.” He smiled. “I know how difficult it is for a woman of your independent nature to ask for help from a man, but I am gratified that you need me for something.”

“Men are sometimes necessary,” Arabella agreed with a smile. “And I admit, you handled Sybil better than I could.” She paused. “I also wish to thank you again for being so generous to my sisters.”

Marcus shrugged. “It was of no moment. But I mean to claim a reward.”

“Reward?”

“Nothing too taxing. I require your attendance in London Wednesday evening.”

Arabella sent him a little frown. “In London?”

He smiled crookedly. “Don't look so anxious, sweeting. I merely wish to take you to the theater. I promised weeks ago to escort my sister and aunt to a play at Covent Garden, and I would like you to accompany us. Lady Freemantle has agreed to act as chaperone for you, if you are worried about propriety.”

Arabella's eyebrow shot up. “You mean to say that you have already settled the matter with her?”

“Yes, so you would have no reason to refuse. I thought you might enjoy an evening on the town. You have been working much too hard of late.”

Arabella felt herself searching his blue gaze. When was the last time a man had been concerned with her enjoyment? Certainly not her father or her step-uncle. Not even her betrothed had cared enough about her welfare to put himself to this much trouble.

“Come, admit it, you want to attend,” Marcus coaxed with a disarming grin.

His perceptiveness was unsettling, but Arabella couldn't deny his offer held great appeal. She did long for an evening in London. The academy was close enough to the city that she and the other teachers occasionally accompanied their pupils to plays and operas so the girls could practice their social graces. But attending the theater with her pupils was not the same as attending with Marcus.

Which was precisely why she should decline. It would doubtless be a mistake to spend an entire evening out with him. But if Winifred were to accompany them…

“You cannot use the excuse that you have nothing to wear,” Marcus interjected. “I ordered the modiste to make up a dozen more evening gowns for you.”

Arabella stared at him in exasperation. “After I expressly asked you not to spend your fortune on me?”

“Precisely, my lovely Belle. I didn't want any argument from you about taking my charity. So say you will come. I want you to meet Eleanor. I expect you will like each other.”

Surely it wouldn't hurt to indulge just this once, Arabella told herself. After the intriguing tales she'd heard about his sister, she did indeed want to meet Eleanor. And merely because she accepted Marcus's invitation to meet his family didn't mean she had to accept his proposal of marriage.

“Thank you,” she finally said. “I would enjoy attending the theater with you Wednesday evening and meeting Eleanor.”

The humorous creases around his mouth deepened. “Good. You have spared me having to browbeat you.” He glanced at the diminishing crowd. “I'll order my carriage now if you will locate your sisters.”

Arabella watched him walk away, marveling at how persuasive Marcus could be. Yet it was his genuine kindness that brought a strange ache to her throat. Before meeting him, she had presumed him to be nothing but a bored, selfish rake like so many of his peers, but this past week had certainly dashed all her prior assumptions about him.

His kindness was more devastating than all his sensual efforts at seduction—and made him infinitely harder to resist. And far more dangerous.

Arabella was still following him with her gaze when Lady Freemantle found her.

“I would call the Loring sisters' return to society a triumph,” Winifred declared with delight. “And you have Lord Danvers to thank for it.”

“Yes, we do,” Arabella agreed with a smile. “I have already expressed my gratitude to him.”

Winifred's gaze narrowed on her. “I think you ought to accept his offer of marriage, my dear. He would make you a good husband.”

Arabella felt her smile fading. “Winifred, I know you mean well—”

Her ladyship held up her hands. “I realize you don't want my interference, but it would ease my heart to see you well settled. But that is the last I shall say on the subject for this evening. For now I will take myself home. Give my love to Roslyn and Lilian.”

Arabella couldn't help but laugh as Winifred moved away. But when she turned to scan the crowd for her sisters, she found her mind wandering to her friend's comment.

Was it true that Marcus would make her a good husband? More crucially, what kind of marriage might she have with him if she agreed to become his wife and bear his children?

Noblemen of his stamp didn't readily give their hearts, and no matter how much she appreciated his kindness and protectiveness, she wasn't ready to risk the humiliation and pain of opening her own heart again and having it rejected. And without genuine, indisputable, mutual love, she had no desire whatsoever for marriage.

For the first time since his proposal, however, Arabella allowed herself to wonder what a union with Marcus would be like. If she were his wife, she would have a life of ease and comfort, with no financial worries. And she would be given the respect due his countess. As Marcus had pointed out, Lady Danvers would be able to lord it over all their haughty neighbors. Of course, marrying for status and fortune did not ensure happiness, nor could it prevent the kind of misery her parents had endured.

But could their courtship possibly develop into deeper feelings between them? Or was she just indulging in wishful thinking?

For the most part, she was content with her life. Her school was fulfilling, and she had wonderful sisters and friends. Yet admittedly she was lonely at times and found herself wanting something more. Four years ago, Arabella reminded herself, she had earnestly wanted a husband and family, just as Roslyn did now.

What if she were to seriously consider Marcus's proposal? Could they come to love each other over time? What kind of marriage could she hope to have with him?

More importantly, did she dare risk the hurt she had faced once before? She couldn't deny the thought was a little frightening.

Yet she didn't have to decide now, Arabella reflected. Their wager would last for one more week. When it was over, she could declare her independence from Marcus. But meanwhile…what if she were to pretend their courtship was genuine?

She spied her sisters just then, and when they joined her, Roslyn was smiling serenely and even Lily looked pleased by the evening.

“I gather the ball was not as painful as you feared?” Arabella teased her youngest sister.

“No,” Lily agreed good-naturedly. “It was indeed more pleasant than I expected. No doubt because everyone was eager to gain the earl's favor.”

“But you found him amiable and charming yourself,” Roslyn said, laughing. “Come, admit it, Lily, your opinion of the earl has improved significantly.”

“True,” she conceded. “Perhaps he isn't so very bad after all.”

As Arabella ushered her sisters toward the entrance doors, she had to acknowledge that Marcus had risen significantly in her own opinion. Not enough to affect her willingness to marry him, of course. She would have to think long and hard about taking so drastic a step.

But for the next week at least, she could perhaps allow their courtship to be real.

Chapter Ten

It is foolish to let your heart become vulnerable when your dreams have been shattered once before.

—Arabella to Fanny

“Perhaps you will condescend to explain,” Drew drawled as Marcus strode into the study of his London mansion the following afternoon, “just what the devil you are up to, Marcus. There are rumors flying about that you are engaged to one of your wards. Pray tell us it isn't so.”

“The eldest ward, to be precise,” Heath added in a slightly more forgiving tone.

When Marcus had sent his two friends missives yesterday, asking for their company at the theater Wednesday evening, they'd demanded to know why he had avoided them all week. So he'd driven to London just now to spare them the trouble of hunting him down in Chiswick.

The noblemen were waiting for him when he arrived and gave him no time even to sit down before launching into their inquisition.

With a sigh of resignation, Marcus settled on a sofa, prepared for a long debate. “I am not engaged to Arabella at present, no. But it is true that I proposed to her.”

Drew stared at him, clearly troubled.

“It is also true,” Marcus continued, “that she refused me out of hand. So for the past week, I've been at Danvers Hall, engaged in a campaign to change her mind.”

“Have you lost your own mind, old chap?” Heath said after a moment's silence.

“I am touched by your concern for my mental health,” Marcus replied dryly, “but I believe I am in full possession of my faculties.”

Heath grinned. “Well, I can fathom no other explanation for your demented behavior. You went to Chiswick last week for the purpose of settling your wards' futures, to arrange proper dowries for them so they could entice some suitable marital candidates. It sure as blazes was not supposed to be yourself. I was only jesting before when I ragged you about proposing to one of them.”

“I know you were. And at the time I had no intention of offering for Arabella.”

“So what in hell's name happened?” Drew asked with grave seriousness. “We knew you were attracted to her, Marcus. But that doesn't mean you should willingly hang yourself in a marriage noose.”

“Contain your enthusiasm for me, will you?”

Drew's scoffing sound held impatience. “Come now, you know we can't help but be alarmed and disappointed when you make such a momentous decision that will affect the rest of your life—and ours as well—without so much as a word to either of us.”

Marcus smiled faintly. “Perhaps I said nothing because I knew you wouldn't approve.”

“You're claiming you actually
want
to be leg-shackled for life?”

“I'm afraid so. Don't look so glum, my friend. I haven't expired. It is only the avowed bachelor in me that has met his demise. It happens to the best of us sometimes.”

Drew's gaze narrowed in a scowl. “I never expected it to happen to you—to any of us—for a long time to come.”

“Nor did I, believe me,” Marcus murmured. “It caught me entirely by surprise.”

Heath shook his head in similar perplexity. “It's understandable you would be fascinated by Miss Loring's beauty and spirit, especially if she refused your marriage offer. No other woman you know would dare reject you, so of course you are intrigued by the challenge of pursuing her—”

“It isn't only the challenge,” Marcus interjected.

“Then what is it?”

“I finally found someone I could picture as my countess, one who could prove a good match for me.”

Drew frowned with deep skepticism, but Heath appeared thoughtful. “If that's true,” he said slowly, “then I could almost envy you. I've never encountered any woman whom I considered my ideal match. I suppose you are to be congratulated.”

“I believe I am,” Marcus replied lightly.

It was no surprise that Heath was willing to regard a foray into matrimony as a potential positive rather than catastrophic development. Heath's effortless charm made him a great favorite with women; he'd just never wanted to be tied down to only one of the adoring females who flocked to him in droves. Yet Heath was the most reckless and daring of the three, and the most open to new adventures, while Drew was the most guarded—and the most cynical.

Just now Drew ran a hand through his fair hair in a gesture of frustration. “You cannot have thought this through clearly.”

Yes, he had thought it through, Marcus reflected. But he was acting more on instinct than cold logic.

Arabella brought a much needed spark of fire into his life. She was warm and vibrantly alive….

Marcus smiled as he remembered the laughing gleam in her gray eyes last evening at the ball when she'd handed him the list of young ladies she wanted him to partner. And then later, the grateful emotion in her eyes when she thanked him for rescuing her pupil, her expression soft and giving.

He'd made up his mind then that he wouldn't let her go. His decision, however, was difficult to explain to his closest friends, since they'd never felt such possessiveness toward any woman.

When he remained silent, Drew interrupted his thoughts with a sardonic drawl. “You cannot possibly fancy yourself in love, Marcus.”

Love?
He wasn't certain he even believed in the emotion. At least he'd never seen a true love match among his acquaintances, although he suspected the possibility did indeed exist.

He had never held out the hope, either, of finding intimacy and affection in marriage, but the prospect was highly appealing—and quite possible with Arabella as his wife.

At the very least, their marriage would be exhilarating. Far from the cold, dispassionate union his parents had known, or the bitterly antagonistic never-ending battle Arabella's parents had reportedly perpetuated.

“No,” Marcus said slowly, “I cannot claim to be in love.”

“You relieve my mind,” Drew said, his caustic tone suggesting just the opposite.

Marcus gave the duke an assessing glance. Drew's convictions would be difficult to sway, he knew. “You will be more relieved once you come to know Arabella, which is why I asked you both to join us at the theater tomorrow night. So you can meet her and judge for yourself. I am taking her to dine at the Clarendon beforehand, with her friend, Lady Freemantle, acting as chaperone.”

“Don't tell me you require a chaperone to dine at a public hotel with your spinster ward.”

“Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't be necessary, but with her reputation still under the cloud of her parents' scandal, I think it advisable. I mean to reestablish Arabella and her sisters in society, so I'm prepared to do everything that is proper. I've invited Eleanor and Aunt Beatrix to share our box at Covent Garden, so they can also become acquainted with Arabella.”

Beatrix, Viscountess Beldon, was Marcus's maternal aunt, and an amiable lady herself. All three men were fond of the elderly dame.

“Why not invite us all to dine at the Clarendon with you?” Heath asked.

“Because I am taking my courtship one step at a time,” Marcus explained. “A private dinner with family and friends would be too intimate at this point. I don't want to push Arabella so much that she bolts.”

Heath shot the duke an amused glance. “Sounds as if her aversion to matrimony is as fierce as yours, Drew.”

“It is,” Marcus confirmed. “I had to coerce her just to get her to attend the theater tomorrow night.” He glanced between his two friends. “So you will come?”

“I wouldn't miss it,” Heath said at once.

“And you, Drew?”

“If I must,” he replied more reluctantly.

Marcus smiled. “Good. I expect you both to be on your best behavior. Arabella has a decided distaste for rakes, and all of us qualify to some extent. I want her to see that we do have a few estimable qualities.”

Heath raised an eyebrow. “You mean to say that she is a prude?”

Marcus laughed softly, recalling Arabella's enthusiastic reception of his lovemaking. “Not in the least. But her father was a champion philanderer, so she wants nothing to do with men of his ilk.”

His friend nodded slowly. “I suppose that is understandable, but you had best take care not to let her turn you into a tame milksop.”

“I have little fear of that. Arabella has no fancy for milksops, either.”

“What about her two sisters?” Heath asked thoughtfully. “You say they are both beauties?”

“Yes, why?”

“If you find them half as intriguing as your eldest ward, I might like to meet them.”

He did indeed find them intriguing, Marcus mused. His second ward was the most exquisite of the three, although he preferred Arabella's earthier appearance—red-gold tresses and flashing gray eyes—to Roslyn's golden princess image. Lilian was as captivating but wholly different from either of her sisters; her bold dark eyes and vibrant chestnut hair gave her a vividness that brought Gypsies to mind.

“The middle sister, Roslyn is an extraordinary beauty,” Marcus said, “but a bit on the delicate side for your taste, Heath. The youngest, Lilian, is a true spitfire—more up your alley. Perhaps you might like me to introduce you.”

Heath responded with a grin. “I might at that. I have yet to meet the woman who could tame me enough to make me wish to settle down, but one can always hope.”

“If you would offer for her, I could be rid of the responsibility for her. What about you, Drew?” Marcus asked. “With her elegance and intelligence, Roslyn might kindle your interest.”

“Are you out of your skull?” Drew demanded with a look of mock horror. When Marcus chuckled, Drew skewered him with a glance. “Don't press me, you sorry bleater. It's enough that I am willing to withhold judgment of your new infatuation until I meet her. With any luck, the eldest Miss Loring will have the good sense to rebuff you permanently, so we can return to our normal peaceful existence.”

At that cynical comment, Marcus held his tongue, yet he had no desire to return to his normal existence. He was making slow but sure progress in his courtship of Arabella, and he had every intention of wedding her, despite her tenacious reluctance. Arabella was an ideal match for him, even if she refused to see it yet.

His chief difficulty was holding a tight rein on his lust. He deserved an award of some kind for keeping his hands to himself these past few days when he wanted Arabella so badly. It required extreme fortitude to let her retire alone each night, when he would far rather sweep her upstairs to his bed and spend the next fortnight exploring her lovely body and teaching her about passion.

Hopefully, however, his restraint would not be necessary much longer.

         

Marcus seemed to be intensifying his courtship, Arabella decided as she eyed the large copper bathtub in her dressing room. The tub was appropriately filled with hot water, but much of the surface was covered with pink rose petals. She wondered how he had slipped into her dressing room without being seen by her new abigail, who had taken charge of her elegant new wardrobe.

“Don't those petals smell fine, Miss?” Nan asked cheerfully. “His lordship asked me to sprinkle them in yer bath.”

“Lord Danvers asked you to put them here?”

“Aye, he did. He says you have a fondness for roses, and that petals are good as rosewater to make a body smell sweet.”

Well, at least he hadn't tried entering her private apartments himself, Arabella thought with amusement as she undressed and sank into the hot water. In fact, until this maneuver, Marcus had made no intimate overtures toward her in days.

Feeling the petals caress her skin reminded Arabella keenly that she hadn't seen much of Marcus since the ball. He'd spent last night in London on business, and his absence had disappointed her a little, perhaps because she had decided to give his courtship a real chance to develop. She couldn't deny, either, that she had missed his company at dinner last evening.

She also couldn't deny how much she was anticipating the upcoming evening. It would be a delightful treat to dine at the Clarendon Hotel and attend Covent Garden Theater in such distinguished company as Marcus had promised. Arabella was admittedly eager to meet his sister and aunt and his two closest friends. She only hoped she could hold her own with them.

She was glad, therefore, to be able to wear her new evening gown of rose twilled silk and the stunning ruby pendant and earrings that Marcus had sent up. When she studied her attire in the cheval glass, her image gave her pause. She looked very much the regal lady, worthy of being his countess.

Arabella's expression grew thoughtful. Should she perhaps give his proposal earnest consideration after all?

She was even gladder to see Marcus when she went down stairs to find him awaiting her in the entrance hall. At the sight of him, warmth blossomed out from her belly, and she felt her heart flutter rather alarmingly. He looked breathtakingly handsome in a long-tailed burgundy coat, gold brocade waistcoat, and white satin knee breeches. She took his arm gingerly, though, resolved to conceal her pleasure at seeing him again.