Page 38 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Beast
“You say you have let the past go.” Lady Clara searched his face but Arthur only glanced at her before looking away again. “You say that is due to Miss Townsend. Might it not be something else also?”
Frowning, Arthur looked at her. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Could it not be that seeing me again, speaking with me and permitting our hearts to soften has brought about this healing?”
Arthur let out a bark of laughter, spinning Lady Clara around. “I can assure you that it is not. There is nothing between us any longer and I am glad of that.”
Her expression crumpled but Arthur did not let his heart soften in sympathy. He had to be truthful, had to make certain she understood and that meant speaking with her in a clear, precise manner even if it did bring her a little pain.
“I care for Miss Townsend,” he found himself saying, the wonder of it catching in his chest as he looked back at Lady Clara, seeing her eyes flare. “What we once shared is no longer a part of my life and I do not feel broken over that any longer.”
“Then you mean to say you can never come to care for me again?”
Arthur almost stumbled at her question, astonishment rushing right through him and kicking at his heart. In all of his conversations with Lady Clara, he had never once expected her to be hoping for this sort of thing! She had always apologized, had always seemed embarrassed by what her mother had hoped for or had asked him to do – but now, Arthur wondered, had she secretly been hoping for the very same?
“I am engaged, Clara.” With a frown, he saw her blink furiously as though she had been hoping for another answer and was now entirely broken over his response. “As I have said, I care for Miss Townsend.”
“But you cared for me, once,” she cried, as the music began to slow, bringing the dance to an end. “You cannot tell me that there is nothing within your heart for me any longer for theremustbe something. There must be even the smallest – ”
“There is not!” Arthur released her, relief pouring through his veins as he let her go. “It is as I have said, Clara, there is nothing between us and I now have a growing affection in my heart for Miss Townsend. I am to marry her. I amgladto marry her for it is she who has taken a hold of my heart – though I confess that I am still learning what that means and how I am best able to express it.” Bowing, he waited until she had curtsied before he finished. “We are barely acquaintances, Lady Clara, and that is all that we shall ever be.”
Lady Clara let out a sob and, to his shock, launched herself into his arms. He caught her, only to realize that her lips were seeking his and, horrified, he caught her arms and set her back. “You are unwell!” he exclaimed, hoping that those around them, those who had witnessed her attempts, would hear what he had to say. “Footman! Fetch Lady Clara a glass of water at once. Come, Lady Clara, you must go to the parlour and lie down.”
Grasping her arm gently, he led her from the floor, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. Keeping his eyes fixed, he suddenly caught sight of Miss Townsend – and the look on her face had him stumbling. She was white faced, her eyes staring and, as he held her gaze, she clapped one hand over her mouth, tears burning in her eyes, and turned away, hurrying through the crowd and disappearing entirely from his view.
Chapter Eighteen
“Are you quite well, Abigail?”
Abigail flew around the room, her maid’s attempts to pack her things seemingly not quite good – or hasty – enough for her. “I am, Mama.”
“Then whatever are you doing? We are not to take our leave of here until tomorrow!”
“No, we must leave now.”
Lady Townsend’s mouth dropped open but Abigail ignored her, blinking back hot tears that she prayed her mother would not notice.
“But why?” Lady Townsend stepped closer but Abigail continued to evade her gaze. “I do not understand.”
“You were not there last evening so you would not understand.”
Before Lady Townsend could say any more to this, the door flew open and Charlotte hurried in, not so much as glancing at Lady Townsend.
“Abigail, are you all right? I heard what took place though everyone thinks to blame Lady Clara!”
“Lady Clara?” Lady Townsend put both hands to her hips, her eyes narrowing a little. “What is this about Lady Clara? I know I had to take to my bed a little early last evening but I did not think I had missed anything significant!”
Abigail tried again to keep her tears back but, unfortunately, they only forced their way forward all the more until she was forced to dash them away with the back of her hand. Her mother, noticing this at once, hurried over to Abigail and grasped her hand. “What is it, my dear? What is it that has you so upset?”
Swallowing tightly, Abigail pulled the handkerchief from her pocket with her free hand and dabbed it at her eyes. “Lady Clara danced in my place.”
Lady Townsend’s eyes flared and she quickly led Abigail over so they might sit on the edge of her bed, though she never once took her gaze away from Abigail’s face. “What do you mean?”
“The waltz,” Charlotte replied, taking a chair opposite them both, her expression rather worried. “That is what Abigail means. There is a waltz at every ball, I think, and Abigail had promised it to Lord Crestwood.”
Their mother nodded. “Of course. That would be expected.”
“But when the dance was announced, I was suddenly pulled back from going to find Lord Crestwood by a most insistent Lady Templeton.” Closing her eyes in the hope that further tears would be held back, Abigail let out a shuddering sigh. “She continually stepped in my path and wouldnot let me past. I told her that I had to go and find Lord Crestwood and she quickly directed me to where she had last seen him – though when I went to the other side of the ballroom, he was not there. Only then did I see him lead out Lady Clara and they danced together as though this was always meant to have occurred.”
