Page 11 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Beast
Chapter Five
“What do you think you were doing, talking to Lord Drover?” Arthur threw his hands up as he continued to parade up and down the drawing room as soon as they got home. “Lord Drover isnotthe sort of gentleman any young lady ought to be introduced to and certainly notyou.”
His sister sat quietly in her chair, her hands folded in lap as she continued to watch him. His mother also sat beside her daughter though her expression told Arthur that she, at the very least, knew what he was talking about.
“I do not know what it is I have done wrong,” Isabella said, quietly. “All that took place was that I was introduced to a few new acquaintances and one was the Earl of Drover. You have never once spoken of him, never once remarked that I was required to stay away from him. Now, however, you rail at me as though somehow, I knew what I was doing wrong and did so deliberately!”
“It was also my fault, Crestwood,” came his mother’s quiet voice. “I forgot entirely about Lord Drover even though he is cousin to Lady Clara.”
Arthur scowled at the very name and continued his pacing, absent mindedly running one hand down over his cheek. Lord Drover had once been a friend and indeed, had been the one who had introduced Arthur to Lady Clara, given that they were second cousins. In the months which had followed, however, Lord Drover had become something of an enemy, choosing to spout lies and foolishness about Arthur whenever he wished to and some of that had, unfortunately, become gossip. In his previous Seasons, before he had left for war, Lord Drover had told thetonthat Arthur was a gentleman without fortune, that he had lost all in gambling dens and the like – and Arthur had been forced to defend himself. Lord Drover had been proven incorrect, of course, and he had then apologized for saying anything like that but had laughingly said he had been in his cups at the time and could not be held responsible for what he said. Because of his charm, his easy smiles and good natured remarks, thetonhad quite forgiven him, believing what he had said about being much too drunk to make sense and thus, all had been forgotten.
Except, it had happened again. Arthur had heard Lord Drover whisper to another gentleman about Arthur’s proclivities for a certain gambling den where ladies of the night might be found in number – and he had lost his temper in a dreadful way. He called out Lord Drover, had demanded swords the following morning so he might regain his honor and Lord Drover had done the honorable thing and had accepted, though he had begun by making as many excuses as he could for why he hadspoken so. Arthur had believed none of them, of course, and thus, the swords at dawn had been accepted.
Lord Drover had not been as good as his word, however, and had not come to the field the following morning. In fact, it had been whispered thereafter that he had left London altogether and Arthur had not known the truth of what had happened to him. To see him here now, back in London, made his stomach twist so painfully, it sent red hot heat right through every part of him. The last thing he wanted was to see Lord Drover anywhere near his sister.
“Lord Drover is a decent gentleman, surely?” Still clearly confused, Isabella looked first to Arthur and then to their mother. “I do not think society would have accepted him if he was not.”
“That is not how society works,” her mother told her, before Arthur could speak. “There is a disparity there. Lord Drover had a foolish tongue and, for whatever reason, a dislike of your brother. He spoke gossip about him, gossip that was entirely false and when he was called out, when he ought to have drawn swords against your brother, he fled. That was before your brother went to war, of course, but all the same, it was grievous indeed.”
“But society should have thrown him from themselves, then.”
Arthur shook his head. “Society is a little less severe on the gentlemen who call themselves rogues,” he reminded her, quietly. “Lord Drover can be charming – as you yourself experienced – and he made a good many excuses as to why he did what he did and for whatever reason, thetonaccepted it without question. That does not mean that they were contented with what he had said and what he had done, simply that they were not about to throw him from their company because of it.”
Isabella frowned. “That makes very little sense.”
“I quite agree,” Lady Crestwood sighed, shaking her head. “But society is a fickle creature and we must often bend to its will – though not in every regard, of course. One thing I willnotstand for is for your brother to be demeaned merely because of how he appears.”
“And that is a very kind and generous thing, Mother,” Arthur replied, quickly, “though you need not come to my defence. I will always have people looking at me, people gazing at me as though I am some sort of creature. Your consideration ought to be for Isabella, given that she lacks some knowledge of others in thetonwho might cause her some difficulty.”
“Such as Lord Drover.” With a nod, Arthur’s mother looked again to Isabella. “You must not go near Lord Drover again, do you understand? He is a gentleman set on making a great many difficulties for yourbrother, though he has never explained his reasons as to why he attempts to do so.”
Isabella ran one hand over her chin, clearly thinking about what had been said. “Did Lady Clara ever believe what he said of you?”
Arthur shook his head. “No, she did not.”
“I see.” Isabella frowned. “If he is determined to do you harm, brother, then what possible purpose might he have for being kind and generous to me? Why speak to me at all? Why ask me to dance?”
Arthur grimaced. “I do not know, Isabella, but what Iamaware of is that Lord Dover is not a gentleman you ought to even think of considering. No doubt he will have had his reasons for asking you to dance and I am entirely disinterested in all of them.” With a slight lift of his chin, he looked to Isabella, his expression firm. “You are not even to speak with him. Do you understand me?”
Much to his surprise, Isabella’s chin tilted up in response and rather than looking at all upset or cowed, her eyes sparked with determination. “You need not speak to me as though I have deliberately done such a thing,” she replied with temerity. “You mayaskme not to speak with him and I will, of course, agree given what I have learned about his behaviour towards you. To demand it, however, is not required and not fair.”
“Isabella, please.” Reaching across, Lady Crestwood took her daughter’s hand and squeezed her fingers lightly. “Just do as your brother asks. This Season is difficult enough already.” Slowly, her gaze drew itself back to Arthur. “Though I did see Lord Townsend speak with you, however.”
Arthur grimaced, his fingers curling up into a fist as tension ran through him. “Yes, Mother, you did.”
“And were you introduced?”
Glancing to Isabella, who was watching the exchange with wide eyes that held clear confusion, Arthur sighed inwardly and then shrugged his shoulders. “Yes, I was introduced to his daughter, Miss Abigail Townsend.” Ignoring the way his sister’s eyes rounded all the more, Arthur continued on. “She is not unpleasant as regards her appearance though she was a little more forthright than I had expected, given what her father said of her character.”
“That is good.”
Blinking, Arthur let a frown pull at his eyebrows. “Why would her forthright manner be pleasing?”
“Because I do not like it when I hear that young ladies have very little to say for themselves,” came the reply. “Young ladies ought to be able and willing to speak a little of what they think and feel rather than keeping entirely silent.” Evidently seeing Arthur’s frown, she smiledbriefly. “You may not think that such a thing is agreeable but I can assure you, it is.”
Arthur took in a breath, set his shoulders and turned his head away. “I have not yet decided, Mother, before you ask.”
“Decided what?”
