Page 40 of The Earl's Heiress
Anderson Estate
After receivinga lovely letter from her parents, Arabella returned home. She missed her family and wanted to be with them. True to their word, her parents did not mention Temple. They would give her the time she needed to decide if or when she would speak to him. It didn’t help to know that he was so close. She knew he wanted her to return to England, but she wondered what motivated him to come after her. Was his ego bruised because she left? Or was it that he wanted to have dominion over her life? It must be hard for him, knowing she didn’t need him for survival.
Tonight was the Harlands' ball, and Arabella took great care with her appearance, determined to make an impression. She had selected a gown of rich golden silk, the fabric shimmering like liquid sunlight with every movement. The bodice, delicately fitted, was adorned with intricate embroidery of vines and blossoms in a slightly darker hue, adding depth and texture. The neckline, modest yet flattering, framed her collarbones with a delicate lace trim.
The gown featured a slim bustle at the back, its understated structure lending her an elegant silhouette without the excessive extravagance often favored by the more ostentatious ladies of society. The skirt cascaded in graceful folds, the hem edged with fine Chantilly lace that whispered softly against the polished floor as she moved.
Arabella's gloves, a pale ivory, reached to her elbows, and a delicate golden bracelet circled her wrist, catching the light as she adjusted a stray tendril of hair. Her dark curls were swept up into an artful chignon, secured with a comb studded with tiny pearls that glimmered faintly under the soft glow of the lamplight. She studied her reflection in the mirror, smoothing an invisible crease in the gown, and allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.
This evening, she intended to shine—not as a gaudy display but as a subtle beacon of elegance and grace.
She had just stood up her dressing table when Winnie barged through the door.
“Arabella, you look stunning. Do you think you will see the earl tonight?”
“I don’t know, but I must be prepared.”
“I suspect he will be there. He was adamant that he would see you and this is a big social event.”
“Perhaps you’re right.”
“What will you do when you see his handsome face?”
“Winnie … ”
“Well, you don’t have long to decide. Papa asked me to fetch you. They are ready to leave.”
Arabella drew a deep breath before leaving her room and descending the stairs. The carriage was already waiting, so she entered and sat across from her mother. A sense of unease caused her skin to prickle, followed by a sinking feeling in her stomach and tightness in her chest. Feeling this vulnerable at the mere thought of seeing him was not something she had anticipated. For the last few weeks, she had tried to convince herself that she would eventually forget about Temple, but the image of his handsome features haunted her every day. They were ushered into the ballroom as soon as they arrived, and her eyes scanned the crowd. There was a hushed whisper as Harland’s came forward to greet them. Arabella barely heard the exchange, and before she knew it, she was being led through the crowd.
With each step a cold, spiderlike finger raced up and down her spine. Arabella steeled herself, but when Temple didn’t appear, she began to relax. She was at the back of the room before Mrs. Harland spoke.
“Would you like some refreshments, my dear?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Harland.”
Mrs. Harland opened the door and led Arabella inside, but she did not walk toward the table. Instead, she spun around and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
“Arabella, I’ve longed to see you.” His rich, deep voice came from the shadows.
Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she was afraid to speak. Would her voice tremble if he did?
“I know that you’re angry with me, but please don’t leave. I would like you to hear me out.” He stepped out from his hiding place, and the first glow of the lamps illuminated his face. Howmuch she missed him. Their eyes locked as they stood transfixed before she realized that she hadn’t replied.
“Very well. Speak your mind.”
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
Her throat was parched. “Thank you.” She walked over to the table. He took a few steps toward her, and now he was close, too close. She wanted to step away, but her legs failed to obey her. Instead, she accepted the glass he offered and quickly took a sip. He poured himself a glass.
“Shall we sit?”
They sat on the sofa in the far corner of the room that was bathed in shadows and the room suddenly felt smaller.
“For a while, after you left England, my mind was languid and without hope. I was a fool not to listen to you and to hear what you were trying to tell me. I was selfish and conceited. I became fixated on restoring the estate to its former glory. I needed to be honest with myself and figure out why.”
“And did you?”
“I did. It was a combination of guilt over my father's death and the need to prove myself to him.”
