Belle of the ball (27 page)

"I am not mocking you," he said, gently. "Now, my knee is getting cramped, and I think you sprained my thumb that last time you jerked your hands away from me, so let me get this out. You know the drill. You have heard the question before. You have even said yes before, so none of this is new to you. Arabella, will you marry me?" He grinned up at her. "Now it is your turn to smile sweetly and say yes. Say it; say, 'Yes Marcus, I will marry you.' "

"I—I c—can't!"

He sat back on his heels. "What? Yes you can. Why can't you?"

She reached out one trembling hand and touched his face, trailing her fingers down his cheek, tracing the lines that led from his nose to his mouth. He was serious! He was really asking her to marry him, despite his joking demeanor. He really was asking her just as she had fantasized once. "I can't!" Blinking away the tears in her eyes, she continued. "Every time you looked at me, you would wonder if I married you for your money or for yourself."

He grinned. "I believe you once accused me of being too sure of myself. Marry me, and keep me on my toes. It will give me something to strive for, if I am not too sure of your love."

"Seriously, Marcus, I can't. I just can't. It would break my heart I would spend every day trying to convince you that I loved you, and never being sure if you really believed it, if you knew it in your heart." She placed her hand over his heart.

"So convince me," he said, covering her slim, white hand with his larger brown one.

"Don't! Don't joke! I cannot have you doubt me like that. And you—oh, Marcus, you deserve to know how much you are loved, every single day. I have seen that here, with Drake and True. There is so much between them, so much love and trust. You deserve that"

"So convince me," he said, huskily. He took a seat beside her. "Convince me now." He put his arms around her and kissed her deeply, passionately, letting his love flow through her like honeyed wine. She succumbed, and he felt wave after wave of love and longing and pain and deeply felt need coming from her, shaking her, quivering in her lips and arms and fingers. He felt a deep exultation well up in him as he understood how much she loved him. In that moment, his heart needed no more convincing.

"I love you," she whispered in his ear. "I love you so much it hurts to be near you! How can that be? Why does it hurt so much to love you?"

He claimed her mouth with his and kissed her deeply. "I love you, you tormenting little witch! I have loved you for so long, with no hope of return. That is when it hurts. The pain, my dear, is just fear, and I know you are brave enough to overcome it" He kissed her again. "I love you, Arabella, forever and always. Does it hurt a little less now?"

"Less." She sighed. "A little less. Kiss me again."

Obliging as always, he did.

Twenty-one

It was September, but summer still. The fat, nodding roses still bloomed along the walk, the willows still draped leafy fronds into the brook, and the sun still gilded the verdant countryside. And in the garden of Thorne House, under a blue sky, Arabella Swinley became the Countess of Oakmont. But more important to her—far more important, she had learned at long last—she was marrying the only man she had ever loved!

"We are joining our lives together from this time forward, but more importantly, we are fusing together two halves of a whole. Life made us two, love makes us one," Marcus said, taking her ungloved hands in his.

Lady Swinley sniffed and whispered, "This is not at all the done thing, to say such nonsense during the ceremony. What is wrong with a few verses from the good old King James?"

But Marcus and Arabella had wanted to say something to each other during the ceremony, rather than just repeat the vicar's words. True, whom the baroness sat beside, just smiled and played with Sarah on her lap. She liked the informality of this rather hurried wedding, though Lady Swinley had spent the previous weeks condemning it. She had wanted a full court ceremony at St George's in Hanover Square as befit such a brilliant match, though even she knew that was impossible.

The groom was still in mourning for his uncle, and the ceremony could only be small and restrained.

But still, Lady Swinley had said, they could have waited the required year and married in style. What was the hurry, after all, she asked, not understanding the nature of love, and the eagerness with which her daughter anticipated marriage. In her mind it was a social coup, a brilliant match, and she credited her daughter with more conniving than she had previously thought Arabella capable of. She had always known her daughter was going to marry well, and was on her way to convincing herself that she had arranged this marriage. Her only wish was that her new son-in-law was a little more generous to her, but she already had a few schemes in mind to enlarge her newly arranged allowance.

Arabella, with tears in her eyes, looked up at her groom, handsome and tall and incongruously wearing a colorful beaded sash given to him by his friend, George Two Feathers. "I didn't know what love was and that is the only reason I can give why I did not recognize it when it stole into my heart But you taught me that life is not complete without it, and that all the wealth in the world, or all the riches of the world, could not make me happy."

"Easy for her to say now," Drake, on the other side of True, whispered. "Oakmont is ten times wealthier than I am."

True put one hand over her husband's, determined not to let even his cynical observation destroy the day. He was just on edge because of all the hubbub surrounding the marriage and all of the guests at Thome House. He preferred a quiet life, and life had been anything but quiet lately. He would be fine once Arabella and Marcus were gone, and Lady Swinley had departed for her now mortgage-free Swinley Manor.

The only thing that had mollified him somewhat was Marcus's offer to sell him whatever he wanted out of the library of Andover, the hunting lodge. He was to go down there and catalogue it all and decide what he wanted, while Marcus and Arabella were away on their extended honeymoon to Lakelands, Oakmont's proper seat up in Cumbria. Marcus had never yet seen it, and was curious now to see it with his new bride.

At last, as the morning sun reached its zenith, the wedding was over and Marcus and Arabella were now man and wife, earl and countess.

For Arabella the day went by in a swirl of dizzying tableaux, the wedding breakfast, gifts to be opened, trousseau to be packed—the same trousseau that had been prepared for her wedding to Lord Pelimore, who was now back in London with his new wife.

And then, at long last, as the afternoon sun slanted through the line of trees that marched down the long drive from Thorne House, farewells to be said. She was in the carriage and Drake, happy now that the end was near, held little Sarah, whom Arabella had come to love as if she were her own, up to the open window. Arabella took her, cuddled her on her lap for a minute, and then whispered in the baby's ear, "I shall try to give you a couple of cousins to play with very soon, my little love."

"I am in great anticipation of that event myself, my darling wife," Marcus said, his own lips close to Arabella's ear. "But maybe not too soon." They had finally spoken of children, and agreed that despite his fears for her health in childbearing, they would welcome the coming experiences together.

She blushed a fiery red, and said, "You were not supposed to hear that, sir."

"Nevertheless, I did." He took the baby, who promptly started crying, and gave her a kiss on her button nose. "Good-bye, little one, and now I think I should give you back to your papa." He leaned across his wife and handed Sarah off to Drake much as he would a valise or hatbox.

True came to the window and looked up at Arabella with tears in her periwinkle blue eyes. She handed Arabella a small package through the window and sniffed back her tears as best she could.

"Don't cry, True!" Arabella said, taking the package and holding on to her cousin's hand. "I am not a weeper, but if I see you sniffle I shall be off like a watering pot!" She gazed down at her cousin and thought how tired True looked. She felt a sudden streak of worry dart through her, and she set the package down on the seat and took both of True's hands in her own. "Say you will rest for days and days now that this is all over. Say it, or I shall worry myself sick!"

Her cousin cast a fond look over her shoulder at her husband, who still held their baby. "Do you think Wy will let me do anything? He has been beside himself for days, and only the promise that I would have a good, long, lazy period after the wedding would convince him to allow the wedding here at all."

"I hope this has not been too much for you. You must evict my mother immediately. She has Swinley back and her debts are all settled. She has no excuse to linger."

"Arabella, do not worry so much! Wy will do all that is necessary, and your mother will travel wherever she wants in our carriage. I do not think she will want to stay; she and Wy do not see eye to eye on anything. I think it is already arranged that she is going over to visit Wy's mother at Lea Park for a couple of days, and then she will travel on to Swinley." True's face took on a more serious expression. She squeezed her cousin's fingers, and said, "Bella, be happy. It is all I have ever wanted for you, and at last I think it is in sight."

"I am too—oh, too delirious to be happy yet, but I

think I will be. I think so, and soon." She glanced over at Marcus, who was on the seat opposite her now, talking out the window to Drake. "I am a little nervous about . . . well, about things, but I will be fine."

True gave her a glowing smile. "There is nothing at all to be nervous about, my dear. Please trust me."

"It is just that Mother made some things sound so— so sordid, and unpleasant, and it is not that I believe her, but what if—" She left the rest unsaid. Silent worries had plagued her that she would find the physical side of marriage unpleasant, for she had never been one of those women who felt a need for male affection. She enjoyed Marcus's kisses and his caresses, but what if she did not like the rest of what was to come?

"Don't worry. You will soon find that there are few things as pleasant as the moments when you and Marcus are alone together in your room."

Lady Swinley moved forward, her mouth working as if she were having trouble keeping from crying, and her beady eyes bright and fixed. True moved away, with just a whispered "Be happy," as her farewell to her cousin.

"Mother, are you—are you all right?" Arabella gazed at her mother with worry.

"I am just fine. I do not know why Oakmont finds it necessary to take you to the ends of the earth on a wedding trip when the Little Season is just about to begin. We could all go to London! You should be introduced to society with your new tide! But I will be fine, all alone."

Arabella was silent. She could think of nothing to say, for she had her own cherished dream that would take her much farther away before long, and she would not give it up easily. She wanted Marcus to take her to Canada, and she wanted to sail before winter arrived. She had not broached the subject yet, but planned to while they traveled to Cumbria.

"Mother Swinley, I am only taking her north for a month or so, and then we shall come back to London and see you." Marcus voice was stern, but he smiled at his new mother-in-law kindly. He had found the only way to deal with her was to tell her how things were going to be, and let her squawk about it. There had been many discussions in the past month where he had had to talk long and loud over her protests, and he had won every disagreement simply by dint of being persistent and insistent.

She gave him a look of dislike, but tempered it quickly. "You may call me Isabella, Marcus." She put her hand out and he shook it, then glanced at his wife, and kissed it. She sniffled and said, "I wish you well. Be ... be kind to my darling daughter." Her voice broke on the last word and she turned away.

Arabella caught her hand before she moved off. "Mama?"

Lady Swinley turned back after hastily applying a handkerchief to her eyes.

"Mama, I ... I love you." And she did. It was amazing, but after everything, even after finding that Lady Swinley had gambled away a good part of the money that had been left her to run Swinley Manor, even after the Conroy debacle and the Pelimore episode, she did love her mother.

Lady Swinley burst into tears and stumbled away to indulge in a private bout of weeping. It was all right. Arabella had left her a letter telling her things she had never been able to say. It had felt good to express some of it, but there was much less anger and much more love in the letter than she would have thought possible a month before. Happiness had made her forgive much that she had thought unforgivable.

Finally they pulled away from Thorne House as the sun sank below the treetops. They were alone, and Arabella felt a wave of shyness engulf her. She covered her nervousness by opening the package True had given her at the last moment. It contained a golden locket with the words LOVE IS ALL engraved on it. She held it for a long while, thinking how lucky she was to have found love when she had pushed it away with both hands.

They traveled for a time in silence, the interior of the carriage growing dim as night closed in. Marcus purposely let the silence go on, knowing his new bride needed some time to recover from the emotion of the day, and of the parting.

But finally he pulled her to his side. 'I have reserved a room for us at the White Boar on the road into Basingstoke. It is a lovely little inn I discovered on my way down to Hampshire. They have clean sheets, good food, and a very private room." He felt her shiver. She was frightened. He was a little nervous, too, but it must be much more awkward for her, not knowing exactly what was to come. He needed to lighten the mood.

*T think I shall require some convincing, my elegant, lovely wife, that you married me for reasons other than my pretty purse and handsome new title."

"Marcus," she said, turning to him with a stricken expression in her glowing green eyes. "Please don't say that you don't believe me! Oh, this is what I was afraid of—"