Duke of Arrogance, page 13
He took her hand and brought it to his lips, turning it over and placing a kiss in the center of her palm.
“Let me take you upstairs. You’ll slip in first. I will find another entrance.”
“But . . . Lord Kenyon knows you came after me. He’ll know what we were up to.”
“Kenyon would have done the same thing if I hadn’t come along. He is a scoundrel and you’d do well enough to stay away from him. Still, he won’t say a word.”
“Why not?”
“Because he knows I’ll beat him to a bloody pulp if he did. I have before and wouldn’t hesitate to do so again.”
“Jon!”
He took her face in his hands. “I like hearing my name on your lips, Arabella.” He chuckled. “Even if you’re upset.”
“It was a mere slip of the tongue,” she retorted.
“I do like tangling with your tongue.”
“Jon!”
“Quiet, now. Let me take you back to the balcony.”
“Will you kiss me once more?”
He bent and touched his lips to hers for a sweet kiss. Reluctantly, he broke it.
“Come along, Lady Arabella, else you’ll get into trouble.”
“I think I already am,” she admitted softly.
Jon thought the same true for himself as he took her hand and led her back to the balcony.
“Go,” he urged and watched her until she slipped through the French doors.
He waited several minutes and then entered from the opposite side and skirted the ballroom. He stopped a footman and inquired what dance the musicians were on and learned the supper dance was next. When it arrived, he went to Arabella and took her onto the dance floor. It was a waltz and he eased her into his arms, wishing he could do much more than dance with her.
They twirled passed Lord Dorsley and Elise, who’d stopped dancing because Weston stood beside them. Jon decided his friend had exercised all the patience he had and was ready to declare for Elise.
“What do you think is happening?” Arabella asked, her eyes turning toward the threesome who stood while others twirled about them.
“I believe Treadwell is about to make his intentions known. To Lady Ruthersby and everyone in this ballroom,” he replied, watching Dorsley step away and Weston sweep Elise into his arms.
Moments later, they stopped and Weston’s voice carried through the ballroom as he said, “It’s one of the things I love about you. There are many things that make me love you.”
Jon stopped dancing, knowing this show would be too good to miss. Other nearby couples also halted, looking on in curiosity.
Elise stammered, “I . . . surely . . . I mean . . .”
Weston pressed a finger to her lips. “No more talking. Listen.”
Now, the musicians became so interested that they lowered their instruments.
Weston took Elise’s hands and declared, “I love you, Elise. Madly. Deeply. Passionately. Maturely. That is what matters. I thought once, long ago, that I was in love but after knowing you, I finally know what true love is and that I could only love you. I asked you to help me find a wife this Season—when all along I knew you would be that woman. Every characteristic I gave you to search for in my future duchess was one you already possess. Intelligence. Compassionate. Kindness. Humor. I wanted a woman who loved children. No one is a better mother than you are to Claire. I need you to be my friend. My conscience. My everything.”
His friend’s words seared into Jon’s soul. Weston leaned in and said something privately to Elise and then he tenderly kissed her hands.
“Please, love. Say you’ll marry me. Be my companion and lover. The mother of my children. Grow old with me, Elise. Our lifetime will be an adventure.”
Suddenly, Elise was telling him yes and they kissed in front of the entire ballroom. Jon sensed the shock pouring through those gathered as Weston broke the kiss and lifted Elise in his arms. They stared at one another a long moment and then kissed again before he marched through the parting sea of still dancers and left the room to the sound of thunderous applause.
The moment moved Jon—and also broke him.
He looked back at Arabella, who gazed after the couple with a tender smile upon her rosy lips. He didn’t love her. He lusted after her, especially since the taste of her was still upon his lips. But he didn’t know if he could ever love anyone and he certainly didn’t think he deserved love. Not after what he had done to Arch.
With a weight squeezing his heart, he knew this beautiful, kind, wonderful woman deserved better than he could ever give her. She deserved a good man. An honest man. One who would love her completely. Love everything about her and give himself wholly to her.
He wasn’t that man. He was an imposter. A pretender. A man who never should have been made a duke. He might become a better man if he wed her but guilt at murdering his brother would always plague him. Arabella deserved the best. He was far from that. She needed to know. Now. He must let her go before she gave anymore of herself to him.
“Arabella, we must talk,” he said quietly.
She turned. “Oh, wasn’t that wonderful? You can’t say now that love doesn’t exist, Jon.”
“Come.”
He led her from the floor, where voices buzzed, discussing the outlandish behavior of the Duke of Disrepute and Lady Ruthersby. Jon entered the corridor in front of the ballroom.
“I have misled you terribly, my lady,” he said formally. “I should never have asked permission from your father to court you.”
Her brows knitted in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. I was a fool to think I could be like my friends and find happiness.”
He took her hand and brushed his lips to her knuckles. With regret, he met her gaze. “You are free to seek the company of others, my lady. I no longer will take up your time.”
Jon turned and strode away, each step taking him away from Arabella breaking his heart.
Chapter Sixteen
Arabella stood frozen to the spot as she watched Jon abandon her. It wasn’t that he physically walked away. It was also the swift rush of the emotional abandonment that cut her to the quick.
What had changed in the space of a few minutes?
Not half an hour ago he’d given her her first kiss, one turning into another and another. She hadn’t a clue what was involved with kissing but he was obviously a master at it. His drugging, intoxicating kisses had swept her up high to the sky, where she felt as if she were running free, released from the bonds of Polite Society and discovering who she was—and who she might become.
With him.
When he’d joined her minutes later for their dance in the ballroom, nothing seemed to have changed. He had a playful, teasing light in his eyes as he’d taken her into his arms and they had begun to waltz. When they’d passed the curious trio of the Duke of Treadwell, Lady Ruthersby, and some unknown peer all standing in the middle of the dancers, Jon had seemed to know exactly what was going on. That Treadwell was declaring for Lady Ruthersby in the midst of the dance.
Treadwell’s words had moved Arabella. His love for Lady Ruthersby shone in his eyes and through the magical words he spoke. Arabella thought Jon was pleased for his friend.
Then without warning, everything changed—and she had no idea why. He’d told her he’d misled her and he would no longer court her, pressing her to see others. His words baffled her, especially after the heated kisses they had exchanged below the terrace. Kisses that branded her as his.
She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. That was the last thing she wanted to do, cry in front of the vipers of the ton. Fortunately, they were all still in the ballroom or would be going into supper. She decided to retreat to the retiring room as a few tears fell.
Once there, she washed her face and dried it, staring into the mirror. She didn’t look different but she felt like another person after those kisses. She longed for Jon to come back and tell her everything he’d said was a mistake. She liked Jon. Not the haughty Duke of Arrogance who wore a mask when he stepped out into the world. Polite Society had no idea of the lighthearted, intelligent man Jon truly was, except for his small circle of friends.
Arabella wondered if she had done something wrong and decided she hadn’t. Whatever had gone wrong between them wasn’t her fault. She didn’t think it was his, either. She had seen the struggle and reluctance in his eyes when they had parted. He hadn’t wanted to go.
Then why had he?
She needed to be alone. To think. To reason. To see if she could discover what had happened and how she could repair the damage. Jon had mentioned that he was a fool to think he could find happiness as his friends had. She needed to mull over his remark. That meant leaving the ball. She had no taste now for gaiety and pasting on a false, social smile to the world.
As she started to exit, a woman brushed by her and then turned. She was an exceptional beauty, with dark hair and large, brown eyes and a complexion as smooth as milk.
“Lady Arabella, isn’t it?” she said, judgment in her voice.
She didn’t recognize the women as one who had snubbed her during that first ball but obviously the gossip about Arabella had reached this woman’s ears.
“And you are?” she challenged, not willing to remain shy or timid when confronted by this type.
“Lady Walton. I noticed you’ve danced with Blackmore twice. And I saw you with him in the park, as well.”
Just hearing Jon’s name felt like a punch in her gut but Arabella stood her ground. “What of it? He asked. I accepted.”
Lady Walton shook her head, pity in her eyes. “My dear Lady Arabella, I know you are new to London and the ways of the Polite Society. You would do yourself some good if you avoided the likes of Blackmore. He is a rake to the extreme. Your reputation is already in tatters, thanks to your ghastly wardrobe and lack of social graces. Don’t harm it further by keeping company with such a blackguard.”
She leaped to Jon’s defense, despite the fact he had just abandoned her.
“First, I am not your dear lady. We are not acquainted and I can tell I would not wish to be so. What do you know of him, Lady Walton? Blackmore has been nothing but a gentleman to me. Very amusing and quite kind. His sister, too, has been lovely to me, as have his friends.”
The woman’s brows arched. “Oh, you seem quite protective of him. His beautiful manners and sinfully good looks can fool anyone, Lady Arabella. Especially some naive country miss such as yourself. Let me be frank. Blackmore is interested in only one thing and that is to get into your bed. I should know. I am one of those who has tangled in the sheets with him.”
Arabella felt her face flame.
“Blackmore is an expert lover. He has slept with half of the women in the ballroom tonight. He will merely add you to his conquests and then drop you. He is mercurial to the extreme. Cool. Wild. Moody. He never follows any rules. And if he does bed you, he’ll soon tire of you.”
Despite the sick feeling in her belly, she said, “As he did you? You sound jealous, Lady Walton. I’m sure Blackmore grew bored with you. He is a highly intelligent man. I can see where he would lose interest in you quickly. As for me, I have no intentions of sleeping with the duke. If I decide to seek a husband this Season, it is one who would be faithful to me.”
The woman laughed harshly. “That certainly isn’t Blackmore.”
“Then I suppose he is not for me. You are welcome to him, my lady.”
Without excusing herself, Arabella left the retiring room. Her legs shook something awful.
Jon had slept with that snake of a woman. And with a good many of the female guests here tonight. She’d known he must have a black reputation but she hadn’t thought about him hopping from bed to bed. It bothered her that she still ached at his absence and that she needed to find out why he’d departed so abruptly, ending the chance of anything between them before it had a chance to flourish.
With a calming breath, she headed to the card room, knowing her father would be found there. She knew females weren’t allowed inside but she didn’t care. Let the ton gossip about her if they wished. She didn’t want any other suitors coming to call. She only wanted Jon. Her Jon. Her duke.
As she tried to cross the threshold into the card room, a footman stepped in her path, blocking her from entering.
“How may I help you, my lady?”
His jaw set stubbornly and since he was as big as the side of a house, there would be no getting around him.
“I need to speak to my father, Lord Barrington. At once,” she said crisply.
“I’ll fetch him straightaway, my lady,” the servant promised and turned away, his tone forbidding her to take another step before he returned.
Arabella saw him go to the table where her father sat, halfway across the room. The footman bent and whispered in her father’s ear. The earl nodded and placed his cards face down, saying something to the other players at his table. He then whipped out a handkerchief, gathering up the winnings in front of him, scooping the pile atop the handkerchief and knotting it before placing it in his pocket. He bid his companions goodnight and came to her.
“What’s wrong, my dear? Have you a headache? You look unwell.”
She supposed she looked ghastly after having the man who held her heart break it in two and shove it in her face.
“I do have a headache, Papa. Could we leave?”
“Of course.”
He led her to the foyer and said, “Wait here. I’ll see that the carriage is fetched at once.”
As she waited, she saw the Duchess of Colebourne exit the retiring room, looking even paler than she had at tea yesterday. The duchess spied her and crossed to her, smiling broadly.
Tamping down her hurt, she mustered a smile. “Congratulations, Your Grace. I know you are pleased about your brother’s upcoming marriage.”
The duchess laughed. “I most certainly am. The Duke of Disrepute gave the ton plenty to talk about tonight with his public proposal and declaration of love for Elise. I daresay they’ll be wed before the week is out. George teased Weston that the special license is burning a hole in his pocket.”
“Oh, so they will wed by special license?”
“Yes. I suppose I will need to throw together a wedding breakfast.” The duchess sighed.
“Are you up to doing so, Your Grace? Are you in good health? You seem most weary.”
“I am weary but for an excellent reason.” She leaned close to Arabella. “We are going to have a child next fall.”
Arabella smiled at her new friend. “That is most wonderful news.”
“The sickness seems to come and go. More coming than going these days but I am assured that it will pass. I was returning to the supper room. We wondered why you and Blackmore had not joined us as planned.”
She steeled herself. “Blackmore left the ball.”
“He left? In the middle of a ball? How peculiar. Did he say why?”
Tears stung her eyes. “I only know he told me he was no longer interested in me and told me I was free to seek the company of others.”
“He what?” Anger sparked in the duchess’ eyes. “How dare he? George said Jon is quite taken with you. Why on earth—”
“I don’t know,” she interrupted. “I am leaving now. I need time alone.”
The duchess nodded wisely. “You have feelings for him.”
“I do,” she admitted.
“Arabella?” her father called. “The carriage is here.”
“Coming, Papa,” she said.
The duchess took her hands. “I will come see you tomorrow. We will talk about this and see if we can come up with why Blackmore would behave so oddly.”
“You may not feel up to it, Your Grace. Might I come visit you instead? Of course, I have not had calling cards made up yet.”
The duchess surprised Arabella by kissing her cheek. “Friends do not need a calling card. They are always welcome. Come for tea tomorrow. I will ask Lady Elizabeth to come, as well. She might have some insight as to why her brother is behaving so out of character.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I bid you a good evening.”
Arabella joined her father and they went outside. In the carriage, he was quite chatty. She found she couldn’t listen to him and only interjected a few murmurs every now and then, which kept him talking. They arrived home and she went to her bedchamber, where Annie helped remove her gown and dressed her for bed.
Alone, Arabella finally gave into her tears, soaking the pillowcase as she fell into a restless sleep.
*
Arabella rode dry-eyed in the carriage along with Annie. It still irritated her that at four and twenty she was expected to have her lady’s maid act as a chaperone whenever she went anywhere in the city. There was something said for being middle class and living outside of London. She desperately missed her old life in Oxford but knew it was foolish to dwell on it. She was the daughter of an earl now and nothing would ever be the same.
What had changed most was how her heart could hurt so. She had never been one to allow emotions to dictate her mood. She had been proud of being self-reliant and not behaving as a typical female. She was intelligent and she used it without shame. Even when they had left the academic world of Oxford, she had been able to play to her strengths as she managed the Wiltshire estate.
Now, though, as a pampered lady of London, she had little to do other than make herself presentable to go to social affairs. The only thing that had made those seem worthwhile was seeing Jon. With him tossing her away as if she were rubbish, emotions she had never experienced came to the surface. He’d shown her a tantalizing glimpse of paradise—and then yanked it away. Perhaps his sister might shed some light on the reason why he’d chosen to part ways with her.
The carriage arrived at the Duchess of Colebourne’s residence and a footman helped her and Annie from it.
“I’ll go around to the kitchens, my lady,” her servant said. “Send word when you’re to leave.”
