Page 4 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Beast
“I understand that.” Arthur managed to smile though it did not linger long. “I suppose I must wonder who, if anyone, would agree to a connection with someone who has the appearance of a beast and who wishes only to retreat back into the confines of their house rather than remain in London.”
“You are not a beast and nor do you have the appearance of one,” the Captain replied, firmly. “You bear the scars of war, that is all.”
Arthur’s smile diminished quickly. “I highly doubt that those in thetonwould think so.”
“Mayhap,” the Captain agreed, quietly. “But it would be a good thought to find a young lady, if you could, would it not?”
Sighing, Arthur spread his arms wide. “Mayhap, I do not know. I will think on it, at least.”
The Captain nodded and they returned to their game of billiards, though Arthur’s thoughts did not sit heavily on the game as they had done before. Instead, he found himself frustrated and confused, thinking on about their upcoming visit to London and silently wondering if what Captain Harrington had suggested would be the right thing for him to do.
And if it was, what sort of young lady would be willing to marry someone such as he?
Chapter Two
“And so we are in London.”
“We are.” Abigail offered her mother a smile though Lady Townsend did not return it. A little concerned, Abigail shared a glance with her younger sister Charlotte, though her sister and she quickly returned their attention to their embroidery rather than speaking any further with their mother. Though Abigail would dearly have liked to ask what it was that brought her mother to such a silence, she chose to keep those questions back rather than offer them to her. If Lady Townsend wished to speak of her present thoughts, then she would do.
Though I am a little troubled by what I overheard on my way to the drawing room.Biting her lip, Abigail kept her eyes cast down to the needle and thread in her hand rather than looking elsewhere, recalling the quiet conversation she had caught when walking through the hallway. Her father had been saying something about his debts and her mother had sounded very concerned, though Abigail had hurried her steps so as not to overhear more. It was not her place and, besides which, should there be anything of importance, she was certain her mother or father would speak to her of it themselves, in their own good time.
All the same, she was rather worried about what these financial difficulties – whatever they were – would mean for Charlotte and for herself. This was Charlotte’s debut year while she was still waiting to find herself a suitable suitor, though she did not think that Charlotte would have any difficulty in finding herself a match. She was the prettier out of the two of them, with long, dark hair and vivid green eyes, a smooth complexion and rosebud lips. Abigail, on the other hand, had only dull brown hair, eyes which only sparkled when she was in the very best of moods and skin which was much too inclined to flush red at even the smallest embarrassment. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she had not yet managed to secure a husband, though it also, no doubt, came from the fact that her dowry was a good deal smaller than the other ladies in London.
“Your debut ball went very well last evening, Charlotte.” Lady Townsend sat down and putting her hands in her lap, clasping them together, smiled at Charlotte though she did not look once towards Abigail. “I have had five lots of flowers delivered this morning! I have no doubt you will attract many a gentleman caller.”
“That is wonderful,” Abigail remarked, truly pleased for her sister. “I hope one of them will prove worthy of you!”
Lady Townsend smiled at this as Charlotte blushed, though Abigail only looked back to her embroidery, recalling how few she had receivedafterherdebut ball. She was quiet and rather retiring, whereas Charlotte was a good deal more amiable, able to speak to anyone who greeted her without so much as a hint of a blush in her cheeks. There were times that Abigail envied her, envied the confidence which she could pull around herself whilst she, by comparison, struggled to think of what to say in any given conversation.
“My lady?”
Abigail looked up as the butler came in, handing a note to Lady Townsend before asking if there was anything else she required. With a wave of her hand, Lady Townsend dismissed the butler before opening her letter, sinking down into the chair opposite Abigail as she read it. Abigail continued on with her embroidery, only for her eyes to flare in surprise as her mother let out a loud exclamation.
“What is it, Mama?” Charlotte asked, before Abigail could ask the same. “Is there something wrong?”
“The Beast of Crestwood Hall has returned to London!”
“The Beast of Crestwood Hall?” Abigail repeated, sharing a puzzled look with her sister. “Who is that?”
Lady Townsend’s eyes roved over the letter in her hand one more time before she finally answered, giving Abigail a long look before she spoke as though she was thinking something that Abigail could not quite yet understand.
“The Earl of Crestwood,” she began to explain, “is a gentleman who has been absent from society for the last few Seasons. Do you remember him, Abigail? He was tall, with broad shoulders and averyfine appearance. He was very distinguished and with a good deal of wealth also! Many a young lady wished to push herself towards him though none succeeded save for one. But that engagement came to a swift end!”
“And why is that?”
Lady Townsend set the letter down in her lap. “Because the gentleman decided to go to war. It was foolish of him, given that he bore the title and had a responsibility not only to that but also to his family, but he was evidently quite determined! Thus, he went to war and though he returned to England, he did not come back to London. The engagement came to an end once Lord Crestwood had returned.”
Abigail looked again to her sister, though Charlotte showed no understanding in her expression whatsoever.
“Why did it come to an end?”
“Because Lady Clara stated that he was so disfigured, so altered, that she could not bring herself to marry him!”
A hand squeezed Abigail’s heart, though whether it was from sadness, sympathy or fear, she could not tell. “Is that why he has not returned to society, Mama?”
“Yes, because he is naught but a beast now!” Lady Townsend exclaimed, throwing up one hand. “From what Lady Clara told society, his face has been quite ravaged by the dangers that come with war and his spirit, it is said, was quite broken. Instead of coming back to London, he has lived the last two years within Crestwood Hall, seeing no-one save for his mother and sister. He has never shown an interest in returning to society and even those near to his estate have not been invited in. You must understand, Abigail, that there are those who know a good deal more than I andtheyhave said that he is a gentleman so unlike his former self that he is barely recognisable.”
Abigail searched her mind to try and recall whether or not she had been introduced to the Earl of Crestwood during her very first Season but she could not immediately recall him. After all, there had been a good many introductions over the Seasons and none had brought her any sort of happiness as regarded making a match for herself. Lady Clara, however, shedidrecall and that memory made her frown.
