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‘Perhaps, but just because Lord Blackwood has a wife does not mean I shall no longer have occasion to see him, Your Grace,’ Arabella said sweetly. ‘We are cousins after all, and no doubt his wife will appreciate my being there to help smooth her transition back into London Society. I understand that she has been keeping a very low profile since putting off her blacks.’
‘Oh, Belle, how generous of you,’ Mrs Harper-Burton said. ‘I thought you might have been…well, resentful of another woman taking your place.’
‘Taking her place. Really, Clara!’ the Duchess of Basilworth snapped. ‘How can Arabella be resentful of someone taking a place which was never hers to begin with?’
‘Indeed,’ Arabella said lightly. ‘I merely came to Lord Blackwood’s aid at a dinner party, and, much to my surprise, he asked for my help at his next one. I really just…slipped into the role.’
‘Well, you are just going to have to slip right back out of it again,’ the Duchess said smugly. ‘I am sure the future Lady Blackwood will not be looking for assistance in domestic matters. I understand she is a sensible young woman. No doubt she will be able to hire a competent staff to attend to such matters.’
Arabella’s smile never faltered. ‘Yes, I am sure she will. More tea, anyone?’
The conversation moved off into other areas and the topic of Lord Blackwood’s upcoming nuptials was forgotten. But as soon as the ladies took their leave and Arabella was left alone the scowl which had appeared on her face upon receiving her cousin’s note abruptly reappeared, wiping out all traces of her earlier complacency.
How could David spring the news on her like that! He had never even made mention of the fact that he was thinking of getting married, and here he was, engaged to some country chit, without so much as a private word to her beforehand. Did he care nothing for her feelings?
Arabella stood up and began to pace the room with the fury of a caged tigress. It was simply too galling! True, there had never been anything of a romantic nature between them, but Arabella had always hoped that, given time, their relationship might develop into something…warmer. But that wasn’t likely to happen now. Because David was replacing her with a wife. His politely worded letter, thanking her for everything she had done, and assuring her that they would continue to see each other on a social basis, did nothing to lessen her humiliation. She had not just imagined the pity in the Duchess of Basilworth’s beady eyes this afternoon. It had been there, as plain as day. The old biddy had been laughing at her; enjoying her fall from grace, as it were.
Well, David wasn’t married yet, Arabella reminded herself, and, until he was, she intended to make very sure that she did not slip quietly into the background. Her cousin was a stickler for propriety, and he would expect his wife, as the future marchioness, to behave in a no less honourable fashion—the way Arabella herself had taken pains to behave every time she had been in his company. Duty meant everything to David and, given that Arabella had heard some very interesting stories about the late Countess of Wyndham, and about the daughter who was rumoured to have inherited some of the mother’s more eccentric qualities, Arabella decided that she would be well advised to stay close to the proceedings. If Nicola Wyndham put a foot wrong, Arabella wanted to be there to point it out.
She wasn’t going to lose David without a fight. And she intended to make very sure that the ladies all laughed on the other side of their faces before this was over!
Chapter Three
At long last, the day of Nicola’s betrothal ball arrived and, with it, the agreement that Lady Dorchester had outdone herself. The servants had been kept busy from morning till night, polishing and dusting, fetching and carrying, and helping to transform the ballroom at Wyndham Hall into a glittering fairy-tale forest, complete with bubbling fountains, miniature trees, and endless pots of white and pink roses which lent their colour and delicate perfume to the exquisitely decorated room.
Lady Dorchester herself had supervised the creation of Nicola’s new wardrobe, and had taken her to her own modiste for the selection of the magnificent gown Nicola would wear on the night of the ball.
‘You simply cannot be seen wearing anything that is not strictly au courant, my dear,’ Lady Dorchester had informed her as the modiste had brought forth yet another bolt of exquisite material. ‘This is the beginning of your new life. You must start as you mean to carry on.’
But as she studied her reflection in the cheval-glass on the night of the ball Nicola was not sure that she was making quite the right statement. ‘Is it the fashion to be so revealing, Aunt?’ she asked in dismay, eyeing the outrageously low décolleté of the gown and feeling that there was considerably more flesh above the neckline than below it.
‘My dear girl, as the Marchioness of Blackwood, you will set the fashion, not follow it,’ Lady Dorchester told her confidently. ‘I only wish your dear mother could have been here to see you. She would have been so very, very proud. But we mustn’t stand here dithering. I am sure Lord Blackwood is anxiously waiting for you to appear.’
As it happened, David was in the hall when Nicola and her aunt made their descent down the grand staircase. He had purposely arrived early in the hopes of spending a little time alone with his fiancée before the arrival of their guests, since there was one more thing he wanted to do before making their betrothal official. But as he stood and watched Nicola walk down the staircase towards him, looking a vision in a magnificent gown that flattered every sensuous curve of her body, he almost forgot what he had come early to do.
‘You look…stunning,’ he said quietly and with complete sincerity. He raised her gloved hand and pressed his lips warmly to the back of it. ‘I am honoured to be at your side this evening, my lady.’
Nicola blushed prettily at the charmingly old-fashioned gesture, and then withdrew her hand. ‘Thank you, my lord. I am delighted by your approval. I wonder, are you acquainted with my aunt?’
‘I most certainly am,’ David said, turning now to bow towards Nicola’s aunt, who was equally resplendent in a gown of emerald-green satin. ‘It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Dorchester. And, may I say, looking every bit as radiant as your niece.’
There was a twinkle in Lady Dorchester’s eye as she curtsied and said, ‘And you are every inch as charming as I remembered, Lord Blackwood. My niece is a lucky young lady indeed to have secured the affection of such a gentleman. But then, I believe you to be even more fortunate in having secured hers.’
David chuckled deep in his throat. ‘Indeed I am, Lady Dorchester, and, if I may be so bold, I would like to have a few minutes alone with Nicola before the evening gets underway. There is something I should like to give her.’
Lady Dorchester beamed. ‘I would not mind at all. As long as you promise to have her back in time to greet your guests.’
‘I give you my word.’
Thus assured, David took Nicola by the hand and led her through the house to the conservatory, which was located well away from all the hustle and bustle of the festivities.
‘My lord, what is this all about?’ Nicola asked when they stood alone in the middle of the spacious, plant-filled room.
About to make the formal presentation of the ring, David turned towards her, and then abruptly went silent. The room was illuminated by nothing more than the glow of the full moon shining in through the glass windows, and by the flickering light of the candles in the sconces lining the walls. Even so, it was enough to show him how truly beautiful was the woman he had asked to be his wife. In the shimmering silk gown, with the high-waisted bodice delicately beaded and hugging a creamy expanse of bosom, and the skirt falling in gentle folds to reveal tiny feet shod in dainty satin slippers, Nicola’s loveliness nearly took his breath away.
And then there were those eyes. Deep-set and fringed with the most impossibly long, gold-tipped lashes he had ever seen, they were eyes that stirred the passion in a man’s heart and coaxed the soul from his body. Eyes which, in the soft light of the moon, glowed a deep, luminous green.
Witch’s eyes.
‘My lord?’
‘Mmm?’
‘You’re staring at me.’
‘Am I?’ David shook his head, wondering at the turn of his own imagination.
Witches indeed!
‘Forgive me, Nicola, I fear my mind must be wandering tonight.’
‘Well, I think even the great Marquis of Blackwood should be allowed to daydream once in a while. Don’t you?’
David smiled to himself. What would she say, he wondered, if she knew exactly what he had been daydreaming about? He quickly thrust such frivolous thoughts aside, and said, ‘I wanted to have a moment alone with you to give you something.’ He drew forth a small velvet bag from his breast pocket and tipped a ring with a magnificent square-cut emerald surrounded by sparkling diamonds into his hand. ‘I chose it with your eyes in mind.’
Nicola gasped as she caught the flash of diamonds and gold in the pale moonlight. ‘Oh, my! This is…for me?’
‘It is.’ Slowly, Blackwood reached for her hand and reverently slid the ring onto her slender finger, knowing that it was only the first of many such heirlooms he would bestow upon his new marchioness. ‘Now we are officially betrothed.’ Then, to Nicola’s astonishment, he bent his head and kissed her full on the lips.
Nicola had not been expecting his kiss, nor was she prepared for the devastating effect it had on her senses. As his mouth moved gently over hers, teasing her with its warmth, a strange new excitement began to stir within her body. She felt his arm close firmly around her waist and pull her close; so close that she could smell the clean masculine fragrance of his soap and feel the warmth radiating from his body. Goodness, no one had ever told her that a kiss could be like this, and, flustered, Nicola drew back.
David drew back too, though he didn’t release her hand. He continued to gaze down into her face, committing to memory the elegant line of her nose, the feathery curve of her eyebrows and the intoxicating dimple at the left side of her mouth, and felt an inexplicable tightness in his chest. ‘Does that please you, Nicola?’ he whispered hoarsely.
‘Y-yes. It was…very pleasant indeed.’
‘Was?’ Puzzled, David paused for a moment. Then, realizing what she was saying, he began to chuckle softly in his throat. ‘I was referring to the ring, my dear.’
Nicola was eternally grateful for the darkness which hid her blushes. What a widgeon he must think her. Of course he was referring to the ring. He would hardly need question the expertise of his kisses.
‘It is…truly beautiful, my lord,’ she said, glancing down at her hand to avoid the dark, probing eyes.
‘I am very glad to hear it. But, now that we are officially betrothed, do you think you could bring yourself to call me…David?’
It was such a silly oversight that Nicola started to laugh. ‘Oh, dear, yes, I think I most probably could…David.’
And so, in a spirit of mutual charity, and much pleased with the events of the last few minutes, Nicola accompanied her fiancé back to the ballroom to await the arrival of their guests.
It did not come as any surprise to David that the evening—and Nicola—were a complete success. Chatting easily as the seemingly endless flow of people made their way down the reception line, David watched his future bride smile and greet their guests, and knew that he had not been mistaken in his assessment of her abilities. The confidence and the poise with which Nicola carried herself would have made any man proud, and, indeed, a duchess could not have been more dignified.
‘Well, David, I am delighted to see you looking so settled,’ the regal Duchess of Basilworth said, breaking into his reveries. ‘And not before time either. I was beginning to wonder whether the fifth Marquis of Blackwood was not destined to become the last Marquis of Blackwood.’
‘I assure you, Your Grace, I had no intention of allowing anything of the kind to happen,’ David said, turning to offer her a warm smile. ‘I was simply waiting until the time was right. And, of course, for the right lady to come along.’
‘Yes, well, I am sure you aged most of the mothers in this room waiting for just the right time and the right lady,’ the Duchess chided him affectionately. ‘I know of at least five young ladies who turned down estimable proposals on the off chance that you might favour them with yours.’
‘Really? I cannot think why. I am hardly such a worthy catch as all that. And I am old enough to be a father to some of these girls.’
The Duchess tapped him lightly on the arm with her fan. ‘I assure you, there was nothing paternal in the way any of them viewed you. Still, I am glad that you have made your choice, and that you have chosen so wisely. Lady Nicola is a sensible young woman with the manners of a queen. Look at her dealing with that odious mushroom, Mrs Bonguard. One would never know that she was anything but delighted to be talking to her.’
‘Perhaps she is.’
‘Fustian, how could she be?’ the Duchess disclaimed. ‘The woman is married to a Cit and thinks that by virtue of her husband’s wealth she is entitled to an entrée to Society. I wonder that someone hasn’t put her in her place.’
David tactfully hid his amusement at the Duchess’s remark. ‘I am sure someone will, Your Grace.’
‘Perhaps, but I fear it will not be your future bride. Too nice for her own good. Speaking of which,’ the Duchess said, her sharp gaze returning to Blackwood’s face, ‘have you seen Arabella Braithwaite this evening?’
‘Only in the receiving line,’ David replied. ‘I intended to speak with her later, though.’
‘Yes, do that, David,’ the Duchess advised. ‘It would be wise for you to settle things between the two of you as quickly as possible.’
‘Settle things?’ David’s brows knit together in confusion. ‘I do not see that there is anything to settle, Your Grace. The day before the announcement appeared in The Times, I sent Arabella a note, personally informing her of my intention to marry so that she would be advised beforehand.’
‘And have you had word from her since?’
‘No, but—’
‘I thought not. I am going to give you a piece of advice, my boy, and you would do well to mind it.’ The Duchess leaned forward and lowered her voice. ‘Watch her carefully.’
David looked at the woman in surprise. ‘Nicola?’
‘Gudgeon! Arabella. She has enjoyed playing the part of the Marchioness of Blackwood, and she don’t like being displaced,’ the Duchess told him bluntly.
If he hadn’t been so surprised, David would have been tempted to laugh. ‘Nonsense! She can hardly be displaced from a position she never held.’
‘No, but you had her act as hostess at your dinner parties, did you not?’
‘A few, but—’
‘And she saw to the arranging of your receptions and to various other sporting functions, did she not?’
‘Again, yes, but—’
‘Then what would you call that, if not playing the part of your wife?’
‘I would call it lending assistance as a friend,’ David replied calmly. ‘And as a relation. Need I point out that Arabella is my cousin?’
‘Yes, and one ill-content to be so. Oh, come along, David, everyone knows that cousins marry, and pray do not attempt to appease my sensibilities by pretending they do not. I am telling you that Arabella had it in her mind to become the next Marchioness of Blackwood, and if you paid any mind to Society gossip at all you would have known that.’
Uncomfortably reminded of his uncle’s words, David frowned his displeasure. ‘I do not care for rumours and speculation, Your Grace, as I think you know. It is enough for me that Arabella helped me when I asked her to. I am sure she has no amorous intentions towards me, and I can assure you that I have none towards her. Our relationship has never strayed beyond the walls of the dining room, if you follow my meaning.’
‘I know precisely what you mean, Blackwood,’ the Duchess commented dryly, ‘and I am not trying to ascertain whether your conduct towards your cousin is, or was in any way lacking. All I am saying is that spurning an ambitious woman can sometimes lead to trouble. It is entirely up to you whether you heed the warning or not. Now, having said that, I must go and have a word with Lady Fayne. She still owes me fifty pounds from our game of whist the other evening. No doubt she has forgotten again, poor dear. Mind like a sieve. I shall see you at supper, David,’ the Duchess said, before moving away like a regal battleship at full sail.
David watched her go, surprised and not a little troubled that she could have misjudged his cousin so. Arabella jealous? Impossible. There had never been anything in her conduct to suggest that she was in the least interested in him romantically. In fact, David was sure that, when they had last ridden together, Arabella had expressed an interest in Lord Wickstead, a prominent peer with extensive holdings in Kent and a reputed income of some fifteen thousand a year.
‘You look very deep in thought, David. Thinking about your new lady love?’
Startled out of his deliberation, and by the very person he had been thinking about, David turned to see Arabella wearing a gown of dark maroon silk, and looking as beautiful at eight-and-twenty as she had as a bride of eighteen. As the widow of a wealthy man, she could hardly lay claim to the mannerisms of a blushing bride, but there was still a touch of coquetry in her ways that a number of gentlemen found attractive.
To David, however, she was just his cousin Arabella, and he smiled at her accordingly. ‘As a matter of fact, I was thinking about you, Belle. You are looking exceedingly lovely this evening.’
‘I thought it only fitting that I look my best for my favourite cousin’s betrothal ball,’ Arabella replied in a carefully nonchalant voice. ‘So, you have finally decided to settle down and marry. I am happy for you, David, and delighted that you have found someone with whom to share your life. After all, is that not what we all look for?’
‘It is, and I am pleased to hear you say so, Belle. I would not wish to offend you in any way.’
‘Offend me! My dear man, how could I possibly be offended?’ Arabella said, her laughter just a shade too bright. ‘You have always treated me with the utmost courtesy, and it has been a pleasure to preside over your various functions. But I am well aware that it was only a temporary measure until you found someone who could do it on a more…permanent basis. Which you now have. I just hope you won’t cut me from your life altogether.’
‘Of course I do not intend to cut you,’ David told her, wondering at her making such a remark. ‘We are family, after all. And as an old married man—’
‘You will never be an old married man,’ Arabella said fervently. ‘You will always be my dearest cousin David.’ Then, fearing that she may have sounded a trifle bold, she added quickly, ‘Now, why don’t you bring your lovely fiancée here? I should like very much to spend a few minutes chatting with her, and getting to know her better.’
‘I am sure Nicola would enjoy that,’ David said, turning to look for Nicola. Unfortunately, a quick search of the room failed to reveal the whereabouts of his Titian-haired beauty.
‘How strange,’ he said after glancing around the room. ‘I can’t imagine where she would have gone. Excuse me for a moment, will you, Belle?’ Moving away, David did a quick circuit of the room, but to no avail. Nicola was simply nowhere to be found.
‘Lady Dorchester, have you seen Nicola?’ he asked, coming upon her aunt a few minutes later.
‘No, Lord Blackwood, I have not. At least, not for a little while. The last time I saw her she was sipping champagne with old Lord Wexler.’ Lady Dorchester glanced around the room and then suddenly began to frown. ‘Oh, dear, you don’t think the odious man has run off with her, do you?’
A faint smile briefly ruffled David’s mouth. ‘At sixty-eight, I doubt Wexler’s heart would stand the strain. Funny, though, her disappearing like this. Perhaps I should take a look outside.’
‘Yes, do that, Lord Blackwood,’ Lady Dorchester said, glancing around the room again. ‘I shall look for her father. Perhaps the two of them have gone away together for a talk. It would not be the first time.’
Little did either of them know, however, that at that precise moment the young lady in question was neither chatting to her father nor enjoying a stroll around the gardens. She was standing in the middle of the darkened billiards room, an expression of deep concern marring the tranquillity of her lovely features.
‘And you are sure you saw her fly in here?’ Nicola asked the young lad standing nervously beside her.
‘Aye, m’lady. Saw it as plain as the nose on me face.’
‘But how did she get out of the cage?’
The boy, who looked to be about eleven years old, fiddled anxiously with the cap in his hand. ‘I just turned me back for a minute to get the piece’v meat Cook give me, and when I turned back round there she was—gone!’
‘Oh, dear, this really is most inconvenient.’ Nicola cast anxious eyes towards the ceiling. ‘The wing was not set nearly well enough for her to fly. I am surprised she made it this far.’
‘I did see ’er go down once, m’lady,’ the lad admitted, ‘and then she kind of ’obbled, like.’
‘But how did she get in here?’ Nicola murmured, moving slowly about the room. ‘The windows are all closed.’
