An Accidental Affair (28 page)

“I would never have guessed her to have been injured and afraid. She didn’t confess the extent of the situation yesterday.” Gray tilted his head. “Thank you for looking after her so well. For a scoundrel who can have almost any woman he wants, I’m rather proud of your restraint.”

“Past tense.” He shook his head. “I did what you suggested. I asked Arabella to be my wife this morning, well before the timing was right, and have been refused. I don’t know what to say to convince her I don’t want anyone else. She knew about the special license already. Found it herself and pretended not to until this morning. I fear the existence of the damn thing has convinced her I’m in a hurry to wed.”

Grayling’s gaze grew shrewd. “She grows more reserved when troubled. She looks about to weep every time your aunt speaks. I take those two things as a very good sign. She’s conflicted about what to do. Augusta used to worry when Arabella tried so hard to be agreeable. Rosemary has voiced the same concerns in different ways. The only thing I can suggest is patience. Destroying the license or allowing the license to lapse might ease her tension. How patient are you prepared to be?”

“I’d wait an eternity just to see her smile again.” Hearing his own conclusions from Grayling’s lips brought relief. He might still have a chance to change her mind, but revisiting the subject today wouldn’t help. He’d have to give her time. He could do that. “The license is still in London, so I can do nothing there. Let’s return to the ladies.”

Merrick stepped back into the drawing room and glanced around without seeing Arabella. Lady Grayling was still trading subtle barbs with his aunt, the three children lolling on the thick carpet between them. Although Merrick listened for her footsteps, Arabella appeared nowhere nearby. He glanced at his pocket watch, wondering how soon after his departure she’d slipped away. He and Gray had spoken perhaps a quarter hour. It was unlike a hostess to desert her guests for that length of time.

When the ladies paused in their conversation, Merrick cleared his throat to interrupt. “When and where did Lady Farnsworth go?”

The pair glanced at each other, then at the clock. His aunt’s expression grew disapproving. “Close on a quarter hour. She did not say what she needed to do, either.”

Lady Grayling rose from her chair. “She excused herself soon after you left. I assumed she needed a private moment or was coming to speak with you.”

“We did not see her at all. If you’ll excuse me, I would like to check on her.”

Merrick left them quickly, took the stairs two at a time, and barged into Arabella’s bedchamber. The room was empty, as were all rooms above stairs when he inspected them. Sure that he’d overlooked no smaller chambers, he headed below and poked his head into every chamber he remembered from his tour of the house. In the small room where Arabella’s fledgling greenhouse resided, Merrick found his half brother sprawled on the floor untidily, unresponsive when his name was called.

Merrick rushed to him and shook his shoulder. “Holland. Wake up, brother.”

Holland stirred slowly, blinking at the room as he turned over. Blood oozed from a nasty head wound and Merrick quickly pressed a clean handkerchief to the injury. “What happened to you?”

“I don’t remember.” Holland slowly sat up and rested against him a long moment, one hand held to his head. “I heard a sound in here and thought to inquire if Lady Arabella needed my help.”

Relief coursed through him. “Did she?”

“She wasn’t here. I never saw her.” Holland fumbled for his pocket watch and stared at the time. “I don’t remember anything beyond that moment. I think it was a little after the hour when I came in.”

Merrick peeled the cloth from the wound as Holland put his pocket watch away. The bleeding didn’t seem too bad, but he wasn’t used to such matters. He’d need help with his brother. “Someone else must have been here though.”

He put his arm about his brother and lifted him carefully to his feet.

“The way my head hurts, I’m not surprised.” Holland groaned. “Do you think Farnsworth returned?”

Cold fury filled him. “He better not have. I’ll get you settled to rest, then search for Arabella.”

Holland waved his hand. “Find your lady first. I can rest here as well as anywhere.”

“Don’t be absurd. I’ll not leave you alone.” Merrick bore the bulk of Holland’s weight and shuffled him from the room. By the time they reached the drawing room doorway, Holland was passing in and out of awareness. Merrick was terrified. “I need some help,” he shouted.

Aunt Penelope turned as he came through the door and then fainted clean away, settling to the floor with a sob.
Some use she would be
. Grayling reached them first and helped settle his brother on the fine damask sofa, and then Merrick checked on his aunt.

“She’s only fainted,” Lady Grayling said as she fanned the older woman’s face briskly. “I’m sure she’ll recover.”

Merrick shrugged and then put his aunt back in her chair. “So much for her reputed strong stomach. I never imagined a little blood could upset her so badly.”

Grayling helped his wife stand and then glanced at his brother. “What happened to Holland? Did you find Arabella?”

“I don’t know and no, I haven’t located her yet. She is not upstairs and while looking for her I found Holland out cold on the floor of Arabella’s green tiny greenhouse. He thought she was there but said he saw no one in the room.”

Holland groaned, his eyes fluttering open again. When he made to rise, Merrick pressed his hand to the man’s chest. “Rest. You’ve taken quite a blow.”

“I need to help you find your bride,” he insisted. “Don’t let her get away.”

 
Merrick patted Holland’s chest. It seemed at least his brother agreed with his decision to marry Arabella. Holland’s approval meant a lot to him. “Not a chance. You must promise to remain here until I return. If you cannot, I’ll have young Danny come sit on your chest to hold you still.”

Holland’s eyes flickered across the room and an embarrassed expression flickered across his face. When Merrick lifted his gaze in that direction, his aunt watched them, a strange, almost wistful expression evident.

“Are you well now, Aunt Pen?”

“Of course. Go find Lady Farnsworth,” his aunt croaked, tears filling her eyes as she stared at them. “I can watch over him.”

An odd look passed between her and his brother, and though unwilling to leave him in the dubious care of his maiden aunt, he was comforted by the knowledge that Lady Grayling would be there too. She certainly would send word to him if Holland worsened.

Merrick approached his aunt as she continued to stare at Holland. “Promise me you will take good care of him while I am gone. He is more important to me than you’ll ever understand.”

“I see that. I’m sure that between us we can manage his requirements with ease.” She drew in a deep breath, then stood and crossed the room, pulling up a footstool to sit beside Holland. Although rather shocked by her actions, he walked away. He had bigger problems than Aunt Pen’s sudden compliance to deal with.

Together with Grayling he searched the main floor and, on the off chance that Arabella had returned abovestairs in the interim, sent a servant up to her room to check again. She wasn’t found and no one remembered seeing her.

Merrick returned to the green room and studied the space. A faint breeze stirred through the room, rustling the leaves of the delicate orchids Arabella kept here. Merrick approached the tall windows and tested the latches. One was unlocked, and as he paid closer attention, he saw a thread caught on the window frame.

His blood ran cold as he surveyed the view from the window. With all the trees studding the grounds, it was impossible to see far outside in any direction. Arabella could be anywhere, and he very much feared that Farnsworth had returned to take her away.

His hands curled into fists. If Farnsworth had harmed her again, he’d kill him this time.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

The ties on Arabella’s wrists had long since burned tender marks onto her skin as she’d tried to free herself again through the endless day that had just passed. She stared at her throbbing wrists helplessly. It was no use. Despite her best efforts, the knot remained firmly tied. She was hobbled—hands tied to her feet by a short rope between—denied any freedom of movement or any hope of escape from Winslette’s ruins.

As the sun lowered in the sky, tendrils of fog rose from the nearby river, gradually cocooning her and her brother-in-law in a private world. She shivered as a chill swept over her skin. Cut off from everything and everyone she held dear, she’d no idea what plans Farnsworth had made, but she was sure she wasn’t going to like them.
 

She hunched forward, attempting to reach her chilled legs and rub some warmth into them while scanning the view available to her for a means of escape. There were one or two rough-looking men outside the ruins, but they didn’t look her way once.

Across the ruins, Farnsworth stared intently into the thickening fog, looking not at Winslette House but away from it. When he’d taken her from the house, he had spoken only a few words, threatening to hurt Merrick if she didn’t come quietly. He’d already killed Holland simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Once she’d glimpsed the rough company he now kept, she’d agreed to go quietly as there were three little girls, Rosemary, and Lady Penelope in the house.
 

Arabella bit her lip to hold back tears.

“Won’t be long now,” Farnsworth said with a terse nod in the direction of the disused road.

“What was that?” Arabella had kept up a constant stream of questions but had received little by way of response. All Farnsworth had said about his intentions so far was that he was waiting and then everything would be well again.

“The solution is at hand.” He smiled and the sight chilled her to the core.

She swallowed the hard lump forming in her throat. She considered asking him to explain but decided against it. “May I have a drink?”

She might need to scream or to plead for help from whomever was on his way. Her mouth tasted of ashes. Surprisingly, Farnsworth revealed a travel case and produced a fine crystal goblet and bottle of red wine. He poured her a glass as if they were on a picnic and held it to her lips as a lover would. She attempted to sip, but his hand rose, forcing too much into her mouth at once. She swallowed quickly, only to regret it. The wine was rancid. Bitter.

She turned her face away, but his fingers dug into her hair, tugging her head around painfully until she held still. He forced her to drink the rest.

“You’d best learn to do what you’re told now or come to regret it later.” A cruel smile twisted Farnsworth’s lips. “He won’t like disobedience from you.”

Arabella blinked as a wave of tiredness swept her. “Who?”

“The man you were too stupid to marry.” He shrugged. “Now who knows what his intentions are? It’s none of my business. All debts will be paid and I’ll be free of the yoke about my neck. It’s a shame you had to be so disobliging to your family.”

In the failing light, she studied her brother-in-law critically, determined not to give in to fear and fall to pieces at the news that he was again using her as a means to cover his debts. Farnsworth appeared disheveled and weary. He was desperate.
 

“There,” he said suddenly.

Arabella jerked her head up as he stepped from the ruins and strode a few yards farther away. Arabella watched him carefully for signs he would turn back to check on her and then tried to stand. Pain exploded as sharp needles of pain lanced her feet. She sat with a thump, realizing that her feet were utterly numb from being bound like this. She couldn’t run fast if she tried. She bit her lip as the world swayed just enough to make her feel she could fall.
 

When she raised her head, the rough fellows Farnsworth had employed had come closer and were laughing at her. Their images danced in her vision and her stomach rolled disconcertingly.

Farnsworth stopped at the edge of the old roadway and set his hands to his hips. Arabella caught the sound of movement beyond him and fought to focus her eyes. She heard horses, tack jingling in the distance, and then men carrying lanterns appeared.

“This is the devil of a place to meet, Farnsworth. I thought Winslette would offer a finer welcome than this. You’d better have delivered what your invitation promised.”

A dark shape joined Farnsworth, though she could not identify who it might be immediately. He was tall. His voice held a demanding edge to it that nagged her memory.

“She’s waiting. Exactly as I believe you like your women.”

 
“Good.”

Farnsworth turned and gestured to where she sat. “There she is. As you can see, Parker, she’s docile enough for your plans.”

Lord Parker came closer, his smile showing his delight and his greatcoat sweeping back from his body like the giant wings of death. “My dear lady. How well you look this evening.”

“Help me,” she begged, her words slurring. She lifted her heavy, bound wrists for him to inspect. It was growing harder to focus. “Farnsworth stole me away.”

She shook her head, hoping to clear her foggy mind.