Page 2 of Unmasked By a Captivating Lady
She had almost made it to the staircase when she heard footsteps approaching. Warily, she turned around. Her heart sank further. It was her mother, staring at her with thunder in her eyes.
“Mama,” she said, smiling weakly. “I was just about to go to the parlour…”
“Arabella,” growled her mother, her eyes trailing over her. “You are a disgrace! You are positively windblown. Your hair looks like a bird’s nest, your gown has sand all over it, and Mrs. Gibbs has been forced to leave for another appointment.”
Ara hung her head. “I am sorry, Mama.” She looked up at her mother pleadingly. “But it was such a beautiful morning for a ride! I did not intend to be so long…”
“You never do, do you?” said her mother sharply. “It is always the same. Always the same excuses and apologies, and yet it never stops you doing it again the next time, does it?” She sighed huffily. “I despair of you, daughter! How on earth are we to find you a good husband when you insist on still being a tomboy? You are too old for this now, Arabella! You must set your mind and heart in the right direction…”
Ara stiffened slightly. She was used to her mother’s tongue lashings, but it still rankled.
“We are heading to London next week,” continued her mother. “It is important that you are fitted for new gowns. Because of your rudeness, I have had to schedule an emergency appointment with Mrs. Gibbs in Frasby tomorrow. She has only just managed to squeeze us in, and only because she values our custom.” She paused for breath. “How will you ever entice a suitable young man to pay court to you if you are not properly attired? They notice such things in London…”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mama,” interjected Ara, impatience overcoming her. “I do not care for things like that! I do not care a whit for any of it!” She took a deep breath. “All I want is to stay here, at Rudwick House, and ride. I do not care for London, or new gowns, or for finding a husband there! It is all so insufferable that I could scream!”
Mrs. Nott gaped at her, looking completely flabbergasted. “Youmustfind a good husband! How can you say such things? It is the only goal a well brought up young lady should have! And there are no suitable candidates around here, as well you know. All the young men are either already married or not good enough…”
Ara sighed heavily. “As you have told me a hundred times or more, Mama. I simply do not care! Why should a young lady’s only mission in life be to find a husband? It is so utterly wearisome.” She looked mutinous. “I will not partake in it anymore! I am not a horse to be paraded at auction, with the fashionable young men of London the buyers…”
Mrs. Nott paled. “I do not understand you, daughter.” She paused, her bottom lip trembling, as if she would surely break out in tears at any moment. “I do not understand you at all. After all that I have done for you! All the balls I have taken you to, all the London seasons, all the gowns and jewellery that we have spent a small fortune on…”
Ara glanced at her sharply. “I did not ask you for any of it. I do notwantany of it. I have no need for a man telling me what to do! I want to live my own life, just the way that I want to!”
Mrs. Nott stared at her as if she had lost her wits entirely. Behind her, Ara could see Ruth hovering near the doorway to the conservatory, wringing her hands. For a moment, Ara felt a stab of guilt. It always distressed Ruth when she and her mother locked horns like this. And she knew from long experience that poor Ruth was always the peacemaker afterwards.
Mrs. Nott drew herself up to her full height. “Go to your room, Arabella. Your father shall hear of this. I do not want you to leave it until he sends for you…”
Ara gazed at her contemptuously. “That is just fine with me, Mama. At least in my room, I do not have to listen to talk ofhusbandsall the time.”
She didn’t wait a moment longer. With a pounding heart, she ran up the stairs, tears stinging behind her eyes.
I am a duck out of water, she thought sadly. And it seems that I shall never find my lake.
Chapter 2
Lord Miles Comerford tossed back the last of the whiskey in the glass, feeling it sting as it hit the back of his throat. He gazed at his elder brother, Andrew, the Duke of Lancaster, who was sitting across the table from him with slightly bleary eyes.
“We are rather longer here than intended,” he said, his voice thickened by the drink. “We were stopping by for just one whiskey and one game of cards, were we not?”
Andrew grinned. “That we were, brother. But then I beat you into the ground as I always do, and you had to seek solace in a bottle of Michaelson’s finest.” He paused, staring at the man walking towards them. “You save it just for us, do you not, Michaelson?”
Miles laughed, staring at the man as well. Richard Michaelson was the owner of the establishment. Brown’s was one of the finest and most fashionable gentlemen’s clubs in London, located on Bond Street. Michaelson sat down opposite them, gazing at them both fondly.
“You both know I always keep a few bottles just for the two of you,” he said, smiling. “The Duke of Lancaster and Lord Comerford are two of my finest customers.” His smile broadened. “May I tempt you to more indulgence, maybe of the feminine kind…?”
Miles stirred uneasily in his chair. He was slightly too drunk forthat. And besides, even though he had partaken of Michaelson’s high class escort services more than once in the past, he had never really felt comfortable with it. He just wasn’t the type to love and leave a lady in that way.
Andrew shook his head firmly. “Heavens, no, Michaelson! We should leave. We are hours beyond what we thought we would be and are expected for dinner at home.” He gazed at the owner of the club. “Can you put it on the tab?”
“Of course,” said Michaelson. “Anything for you, Lord Comerford.”
“But not me?” said Miles, a little cheekily. “I am Lord Comerford too, you know. Even though I am not the Duke…”
“For both of you,” smiled Michaelson.
“Come on, old chap,” said Andrew, heaving himself out of the chair. “We should be off, before we really cannot move at all!”
The two brothers walked down the steps of the gentlemen’s club, down Bond Street, towards their waiting carriage. Andrew always asked it to park a fair distance down the street. He didn’t like to advertise that he was in Brown’s.
