Page 23 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Beast
“No, not in the least.” Recalling how she had been embarrassed that he had overheard her speaking of Lord Crestwood, fire light her cheeks. “I was speaking of our impending marriage with my friend, Lady Chesterton. Lord Drover joined in the conversation and then apologised for eavesdropping.”
“As well he might,” the gentleman muttered, shaking his head. “No doubt the man did such a thing purposefully. He will want to glean whatever he can from you in the hopes of using it against me.”
Abigail bit her lip then closed her eyes. “I did not say anything untoward,” she said, quickly. “He assured me he would not repeat what I had said solely to my friend, stated he was an acquaintance of yours and that you had been friends for some time. From what I remember, he offered congratulations and very little else. The conversation came to a swift end.”
Lord Crestwood closed his eyes and nodded, only to rise to his feet abruptly. Abigail did so also, thinking now that he intended to take his leave, only for Lord Crestwood to walk across the room, grasp both of her hands in his and look down into her face.
“Please, do not speak again to Lord Drover. If he should come near you, then walk in the opposite direction. If he should talk to you, ignorehim or again, walk away. I cannot tell you how much I need you to do this. Lord Drover caused me a great deal of pain and I will not have him do the same to you.”
The way his fingers tightened around hers sent Abigail’s heart into a flurry of both astonishment and a strange sense of happiness. It was not that she did not take his warning seriously but rather that his concern was so evident, it filled her heart with a joy which, as yet, she could not quite understand. She could not take her gaze from his face, looking up and seeing the clouds which held fast to the blue in his eyes. Not once did she let her gaze pull to his scars, not once did she have any desire so much as to glance there. All she cared about was the softness of care and concern in his eyes – care and concern which was held only for her.
“I promise you, I shall do all that you ask.”
Lord Crestwood let out a slow breath, his shoulders dropping. “You do not think to question me about it?”
“Why should I?” she asked, quietly. “You have asked me to trust you and I shall. After all, you are to be my husband and if I cannot trust your word, then where should I be?”
A hint of a smile brushed against Lord Crestwood’s mouth. He released one of her hands but kept the other in his, still letting his gaze hold fast to hers. To her utter astonishment, he lifted her other hand to his lips and, as she watched, pressed a light kiss to the back of her hand.
Flames tore a path up her arm and towards her heart.
“Thank you, Abigail.”
His eyes melded to hers for another few moments and then, without warning, he turned and walked from the room, leaving her standing entirely alone.
Chapter Eleven
“Good evening, Lord Drover.” Arthur drew himself up to his full height as his one-time friend turned to see him, though he noted how the man started in obvious surprise upon seeing him at the ball they were both attending that night. “I hear that you have been greeting my new bride to be.” He tilted his head. “As well as my sister.”
“And why should I not?” Lord Drover’s eyes gleamed, his surprise fading to vehemence. “There is nothing wrong with a gentleman greeting a lady.”
“You know very well that it is no mere lady that you greet,” Arthur replied, harshly. “Stay away from both Lady Isabella and Miss Townsend.”
Lord Drover shrugged. “I have no difficulty in doing as you ask.”
Arthur, making to move away given that their conversation was now over, paused for a moment. “You have never informed me as to why you changed towards me with such severity,” he said, as Lord Drover’s brows knotted. “We were good friends were we not? Why then did you alter? Why did you attempt to spread such gossip about me?”
There came a tightening around Lord Drover’s lips. “I do not know what it is you are speaking of.”
“Yes, you do.” Growing frustrated, Arthur made to turn away. “Though if you are not even going to admit it openly then I see little point in continuing our conversation.”
“Oh, Lord Drover, Lord Crestwood!”
Arthur’s frustration grew to even greater heights as none other than Lady Templeton came near to them both. “How very good to see you both conversing again! It gives me the greatest pleasure to see it.”
“We are not conversing,” he said, stiffly. “I was just taking my leave, in fact.”
“Oh.” Lady Templeton’s eyebrows lifted. “Is there any particular reason that you do not desire to speak with my cousin’s son?”
Arthur looked back into Lady Templeton’s wide eyed, rather cold expression and understood precisely what it was she was trying to do. “Merely that I have no wish to.”
“Mother, have you heard about Lord Crestwood’s house party? I… oh, do excuse me.”
A long breath escaped from Arthur as none other than Lady Clara staggered back from where she had swung into her mother, her face turning a color of pink as she realized exactly who it was Lady Templeton had been speaking with. This was the worst possible situation he could find himself in, stuck in conversation with both Lord Drover and Lady Templeton, with now Lady Clara come to join them. Surely LadyTempleton and Lady Clara already knew that he had no inclination to speak with them given the last time she had come to call upon him? So why was she lingering next to him now?
“You are having a house party?”
Arthur cleared his throat. “Yes, to celebrate my engagement.” Seeing one or two others from thetoncome to join them, extending the small group, Arthur quickly realized that his chances of escaping the conversation were now entirely taken away from him. His frustration bloomed to anger, though he kept his expression and his voice tightly under control. “It is only a small gathering and only for a few short days.”
