Courtship Wars: To Pleasure A Lady Part 18

Arabella knew very well Marcus wouldn't give up his pursuit of her until one of them won the wager. He was determined to wed her because he wanted a genteel wife to bear him heirs-although his courtship had definitely changed since the day of their picnic. It was as if he was giving their friendship a chance to catch up to their physical relationship.

She suspected it was a patiently calculated strategy to undermine her resistance. If so, she had to admit it was effective. In truth, she enjoyed the quiet evenings she spent with him. During the day, the house was overrun with modistes and workmen who needed her approval, and with ill.u.s.trious callers who required her polite attention, so the peace was welcome after the hectic pace of the day. But it was Marcus himself who made the interludes so enjoyable.

He seemed to find them enjoyable as well, and he said as much the last evening before the ball. A comfortable silence had fallen between them as they took tea together in the drawing room while outside a late spring storm spent its fury.

"This is remarkably pleasant," Marcus commented lazily, stretching his long, lithe legs out toward the cheerfully crackling hearth fire. "We might as well be an old wedded couple." Then his amused smile flashed at Arabella. "Although if we were indeed wed, you would not be sleeping alone each night."

Arabella felt her cheeks flush at his suggestive remark. This was more like the Marcus she had first come to know. For the past three nights when she retired for bed, he had given her nothing more than a chaste kiss on her fingertips. But even that mild caress had her skin tingling, and she lay awake each night thinking of him, remembering the startling pleasure he had given her the afternoon of their picnic and wondering when he would attempt any repet.i.tion.

It would not be tonight, Arabella realized a half hour later, for all he did was wish her sweet dreams, without so much as touching her hand.

His tame dismissal left her strangely dissatisfied-until she scolded herself and resolved to focus her energies on tomorrow's ball rather than on the provoking Earl of Danvers.

The next afternoon Arabella ended her labors on the house early in order to dress for the important event. She and Marcus were to take his carriage to Tess's house to collect Roslyn and Lily and Tess and escort them all to the ball.

Since he had hired an abigail to look after Arabella's wardrobe and to help her dress, it took her less time than usual to bathe and arrange her hair and don her ball gown. When she studied herself in the cheval gla.s.s, she was quite satisfied with her appearance.

Her new abigail, Nan, was more effusive. "Oh, Miss, yer a breathtaking sight!"

Her gown was indeed an exquisite confection-silver net over emerald sarcenet that set off her gray eyes and red-gold hair, while the moderately low decolletage and puffed sleeves exposed a fashionable amount of skin.

She was about to go downstairs when Marcus surprised her by sending up a footman bearing a velvet jeweler's box, which contained a delicate emerald necklace and matching earbobs. Arabella hesitated at first to accept such an expensive gift, even though it wasn't improper between guardian and ward. But when Nan cooed over the jewels, she relented enough to try them on and discovered they embellished her gown perfectly.

Marcus seemed to agree, for when she joined him in the drawing room, he stared at her for a long moment before offering her a devastating smile. "That lovely gown and necklace almost does you justice."

"You should not have gone to such expense," Arabella remarked, hiding her flush at his flattery.

"Of course I should have. It was entirely my pleasure."

Marcus himself looked irresistibly handsome in black-and-white evening clothes, and Arabella was keenly aware of him as he helped her on with her satin wrap and then escorted her to his carriage. As they drove the short distance to Tess's house, however, she distracted herself by reviewing for him the names and ranks and relationships of the guests he was likely to encounter at the ball, some of whom had already called at Danvers Hall to make his acquaintance and scrutinize her.

Her sisters and her friend were awaiting them with varying degrees of eagerness, Arabella discovered when they were admitted to the house.

Tess was definitely the most sanguine about attending this evening's ball. She was always welcomed at a.s.semblies and b.a.l.l.s, for despite her lack of significant fortune, her birth and breeding were exceptional.

And since her mother's family hailed from nearby Richmond, Tess was a great favorite with the older matrons and dowagers in the district.

Roslyn, who looked stunningly beautiful in her new evening finery, maintained an appearance of cool detachment, but Arabella suspected she was keenly hoping the evening turned out well. Roslyn stood the most to gain from their reinstatement, since she was not quite ready to abandon the prospect of having a husband and children someday. And after the mortification of being offered several shameful propositions by various rakes and reprobates, she was more willing than her sisters to accept their new guardian's protection and support.

Lily, Arabella knew, had no desire to a.s.sociate with any of the disdainful arbiters of the haute ton. Yet even Lily understood how momentous this evening could be to their futures. Thankfully, she had agreed not only to attend, but to make an effort to be charming and ladylike.

"You promised to exhibit no trace of the hoyden tonight, remember, Lily?" Arabella reminded her as Marcus helped the ladies on with their cloaks and wraps.

Lily gave a droll smile. "I remember. You needn't worry, Belle. I would not have endured all those excruciating fittings or primped for hours this afternoon if I planned to spoil our big night."

"Well, the result is splendid."

Lily dimpled before twirling around in her new apparel. "We do look elegant, don't we?"

Arabella had to laugh. While Lilian felt more at home in a shabby old riding habit, she was feminine enough to appreciate a beautiful gown.

Arabella was as pleased with her sisters' ball gowns as she was with her own. Roslyn wore elegant white lace over deep rose silk that set off her fair delicacy, while Lily sparkled in gold-shot tissue over pale gold crepe that accented her vivid coloring. Dark-haired Tess looked just as lovely in lilac l.u.s.tring, even though her gown was two Seasons old.

When Marcus complimented all the ladies on their appearance, however, Lily's lively good humor disappeared to be replaced by wary politeness as he escorted them out to his carriage.

During the drive, the conversation was amiable enough, with Tess and Marcus upholding most of the discussion. Roslyn was unusually quiet, Arabella noticed. And by the time the carriage drew up before the brightly lit Perry mansion, Arabella herself had developed an unexpected case of nerves. When she felt Tess squeeze her hand in sympathy, she gave her friend a grateful smile and then steeled her spine for the ordeal ahead.

She needn't have worried, Arabella quickly realized. The reception she and her sisters were given by their hosts and the other guests was beyond anything she could have hoped for-all because of Marcus.

Judging by the excessive toadying and bowing and sc.r.a.ping the company did for his benefit, one would have thought the Prince Regent himself had appeared in their midst. What a difference his sponsorship made!

Lady Freemantle noticed also, and told Marcus so at the first opportunity, during a lull before the dancing began.

" 'Tis commendable, the interest you are taking in your wards, Lord Danvers," Winifred said, beaming at him in approval.

Standing beside him, Arabella saw Marcus acknowledge the praise with a slight bow. "It is only my duty, my lady."

Winifred snorted. "A pity your predecessor didn't share your sentiments. If Lionel had put out the least bit of effort, his nieces would have had far easier a time of it. Maybe even weathered the scandals their mama and papa incited."

"His neglect was criminal," Marcus agreed. "But I shall do my best to rectify it."

Winifred suddenly gave Arabella a sharp glance. "You should appreciate his lordship, my girl. Your success is now a.s.sured."

Just then, Lady Freemantle was hailed by one of her cronies, and she turned away, leaving Arabella alone with Marcus, since her sisters and Tess had drifted off earlier to speak to some other guests.

"I agree, you should appreciate me," Marcus said, amused.

Arabella couldn't help but smile. "Oh, I most certainly do...especially for my sisters' sake."

"And what about your own?"

Her expression turned thoughtful as she considered his question. "I am indeed grateful, of course. But surprisingly, the prospect of being reestablished in this ill.u.s.trious company"-she waved a hand at the crowded ballroom-"doesn't mean as much as I thought it would. I learned to live without the ton's approval for the past four years, and I suspect I can do without it in the future. But for Roslyn and Lily...I truly do thank you, Marcus."

Their gazes locked for a long moment, before Arabella managed to tear hers away from his unexpectedly tender one.

"Will you honor me with the first set?" Marcus said, changing the subject.

She shook her head. "Thank you, but I planned to remain on the sidelines tonight with the widows and spinsters as usual. The teachers at the Freemantle Academy are expected to behave with proper decorum and to set a good example for our young ladies."

It was Marcus's turn to shake his head. "It is not improper to dance with your guardian. And you aren't here tonight as a teacher. You are here as Miss Loring of Danvers Hall, the ward of an earl." When Arabella hesitated, Marcus prodded her. "Come, admit it, you would enjoy dancing."

"Well, yes...I would. But it should not be the first set. Lady Perry will be heartbroken if you don't lead her out, since you are the highest ranking guest of honor."

"The first waltz, then."

Again Arabella hesitated. She had never danced a waltz with anyone but the academy's dancing master.

Once considered scandalous because of the couple's intimate embrace, the waltz had not been introduced from the Continent until two years after her betrothal ended. And the prospect of being held so closely in Marcus's arms worried her a little.

As if he could read her mind, Marcus raised a challenging eyebrow. "Are you being missish again, love?

Surely you aren't afraid to waltz with me in public?"

Naturally Arabella couldn't resist his dare, as he doubtless intended. "Certainly I am not afraid. Very well, the first waltz. But I hope you will dance with my sisters as well."

"Of course, I intend to."

Arabella smiled sweetly. "Then as long as you are being so gallant, my lord..." From the sleeve of her glove, she drew out a small sc.r.a.p of paper. "This is a list of our academy's pupils who will be attending tonight. Perhaps you will be so kind as to ask them also."

Marcus took the list and scrutinized it with amus.e.m.e.nt. "A half dozen simpering young ladies. You are all d.a.m.ned heart, trying to palm me off on your pupils."

Arabella's smile widened. "I am only thinking of their feelings. They will be thrilled to be singled out for your attention."

There was a gleam of laughter in his eye. "You realize this hardly falls under the rules of 'fair play.'"

She raised an eyebrow herself. "I seem to recall you have bent the rules more than once in your own favor, Marcus. And I do still have a wager to win, if you recall. Who knows? One of our young ladies might sweep you off your feet and convince you to abandon your courtship of me."

Her teasing reply made him laugh. "Very well, vixen, as long as you recognize what lengths I'm willing to go to in order to curry your favor. But I will take you and your sisters into supper later."

"Certainly. We would be honored."

If Marcus was reluctant to dance with their hostess, Lady Perry, he gave no indication but soon went in search of her.

Arabella was about to take her usual place on the sidelines with the chaperones when Winifred sailed up to her with an elderly gentleman in tow, whom she introduced as a desirable dance partner. Thankfully, when the orchestra prepared to strike up the opening cotillion, Winifred abandoned her obvious attempts at matchmaking and instead sought out the card tables in the nearby parlor while Arabella took the floor with her partner.

After that she danced with four different gentlemen, and she was gratified that her sisters found suitable partners as well. Their popularity was a far cry from what they'd been accustomed to the past four years.

And then it came time for her waltz with Marcus. Arabella felt a nervous flutter in her stomach as he led her onto the floor and drew her into the proper stance-one hand clasping hers, the other pressed lightly at her waist.

Being held in his embrace was as unsettling as she expected, but her nerves melted a little when Marcus swept her into the lilting rhythm of the waltz.

"You are a remarkably good dancer," Arabella praised him after a moment.

He smiled down at her. "I am gratified you think so. You are quite remarkable yourself."

A warm flush washed over her, making her feel almost light-headed. For a long moment as their gazes held, the rest of the world faded away and only the two of them existed. Eventually, however, the music came to an end.

Arabella was oddly sorry when Marcus bowed to her and turned her over to yet another gentleman.

And admittedly, every subsequent dance afterward seemed rather flat to her. Being with Marcus, she had felt almost...jubilant.

Then again, Arabella reminded herself, he had that effect on a good number of people, especially the female population. For the next hour, she watched Marcus work his charm on the company. He dutifully danced with every one of her pupils and awed their wealthy parents, much to her grat.i.tude. Such rare attentiveness from an earl would highly benefit her academy, Arabella knew. But the female guests fawned all over him not simply because of his rank and stature but because he was so charismatic and compelling.

He secured a second dance each with Roslyn and Lily, also. It was interesting to watch her sisters'

reactions toward Marcus. Roslyn treated him with thoughtful reserve, while Lily was unusually cool. Yet *

both clearly understood the extraordinary effort he was making on their behalf tonight, as did Arabella.

It had been something of a revelation for her earlier when Marcus had made her question her feelings about her newfound acceptance. The ton's approval was not so very important to her now, she was surprised to realize. She was supremely grateful for her sisters' sake, though. Particularly Roslyn.

After the virtual destruction of their lives four years ago, they each had responded differently: Arabella had become fiercely set on gaining independence. Lily had rebelled outright. And Roslyn had vowed to make her own fate rather than becoming some wealthy gentleman's mistress.

Roslyn's alluring beauty enchanted men of all types, and out of sheer self-defense, she'd become expert at warding off the pestering advances of unsuitable admirers. It warmed Arabella's heart, therefore, to see the legitimate attention her sister was receiving just now from one of their n.o.ble neighbors, Rayne Kenyon, the Earl of Haviland.

Lord Haviland was the black sheep of his family who had unexpectedly inherited the t.i.tle earlier this year. His dark, dangerous looks were a perfect foil for Roslyn's delicate fairness. But despite the fact that they appeared opposites, Arabella suspected that Roslyn had developed a secret tendre for the earl.

Her lovely cheeks were flushed now with animation as she conversed with him.

Arabella's delight in seeing her sister's happiness, however, abruptly faded when she recognized the fashionable young buck who had just sauntered up to Roslyn.

Despite his relative youth, Mr. Jasper Onslow was dangerous to any lady's reputation. A rake and a wastrel who urgently needed to marry a fortune, Onslow was one of the scoundrels who had propositioned Roslyn barely three months ago, offering to set her up as his mistress in a cozy love nest in London.

That he dared approach Roslyn now had Arabella bristling with anger and outrage. She had just started across the ballroom floor to intervene when Lord Haviland said something to Onslow that sent the blackguard packing. In response, Roslyn bestowed such a breathtaking smile of grat.i.tude on his lordship that he went completely still, clearly captivated by her expression.

Halting her needless attempt at rescue, Arabella breathed a sigh of relief and muttered "Thank heavens"

under her breath.

"Why are you so thankful?" Marcus asked curiously at her shoulder.

With a start, Arabella turned to glance up at him. "Oh, no particular reason," she replied quickly, not wanting to trouble him further with her sisters' affairs.

But he evidently had seen some of the interchange involving Roslyn, for his perceptive gaze lingered on her thoughtfully before returning to Arabella. "You will let me know if she needs my help?"

At his kindness, Arabella felt her heart twist with an odd little ache. "I will, thank you. Fortunately, your a.s.sistance appears unnecessary at the moment."

Marcus nodded, apparently willing to let the matter drop. "It is time for supper," he said instead. "Shall we collect your sisters and proceed to the buffet?"

When he offered his arm, Arabella willingly took it.

The fare proved delicious, with expensive delicacies such as lobster patties and meringues that the Loring sisters rarely enjoyed. Lady Freemantle and Tess joined their table, so Marcus had five ladies on his hands. Arabella would have invited Lord Haviland to eat with them, except that he had already taken his leave of the ball. Roslyn's private smile, however, suggested that her evening had turned out better than she could have hoped.

Their party was surprisingly jovial, since Winifred kept them entertained with tales of her late husband and Marcus did likewise with stories about the sporting exploits he and the Duke of Arden and the Marquess of Claybourne indulged in. By the time supper concluded, Arabella was feeling a pleasant little glow that had more to do with seeing her sisters genuinely happy for the first time in years than with the warmth of the night or the costly wine she had drunk.

When Marcus escorted her back to the ballroom, however, she came up short, for she had suddenly spied Jasper Onslow again. This time he was showering his attention on her most vexing pupil, Sybil Newstead. From all appearances, Sybil was flirting outrageously with him.

Quickly Arabella glanced around the ballroom, searching for the girl's chaperone, who was nowhere in sight.