Page 6 of An Earl's Scandalous Return
The room was too hot; there were too many people, and his cravat was too tight. The music wasn’t very good either. His mood lowered the closer he got to his father, who was already conversing with one of the white-haired gentlemen.
“Ah, here is my son, Edward, The Earl of Jameson, as you know. Back from his long trip to the continent.”
Edward nodded in greeting to them all, handing his father his wine. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, and his father grinned.
“Of course. Plenty of young ladies to ask to dance.”
The old men chuckled to themselves, and Edward rolled his eyes at his father’s wink. He left with his own glass, drinking nearly half of it before he found a place by the wall where the dance floor was in full view.
It felt like a lifetime ago, this charade of attending balls and dancing, speaking with new and old acquaintances. He could feel eyes still on him, especially those of young ladies and their mamas, but he was not in the mood to ask any young lady to dance that night. He wanted to forget about her, all about her, and he hoped that seeing her again could quash whatever feelings still remained once and for all.
“Jameson, is that you?” a familiar voice asked, and Edward turned to see an old friend, Baron Farthing, looking at him with a smile.
“Farthing,” he said with a genuine smile, shaking his hand. “Good to see you.”
“And you.” Abraham Farthing leaned against the wall next to him, a cup of something in his hand as well. “It’s been a long while, but it seems you still can find the safest place in the room.”
Edward laughed, grateful for the kind company, as he sipped his wine, his eyes straying once more to the dance floor.
Where is she?
“I heard you were here before I saw you. You’ve only been here a few minutes, yet your surprise arrival after four years is on everybody’s lips. Did you enjoy your time?”
“Yes, very much.” He sighed, looking into his old friend’s kind green eyes. “But I’m glad to be back to see my father.”
“Of course.”
“And how has London been? Entirely dreadful? Are you married?”
“Dreadful, yes, of course. No, not yet, but my mother is still hopeful, dragging me to every event under the sun during the Season. And you are not married, either. I feel certain we would have heard of it if so. Duke’s son and all that.”
Edward smirked, a little twinge of pain in his heart. “No, not married.”
He finished his wine and looked again at the dancing as a new song began. And it was then that his heart stopped. He saw her. The vision of beauty, longing, life, and everything wrapped into one:Her.
“Oh, eyeing the lovely Lady Arabella?” Farthing said with a smirk. “So is every man in here, although they say she’s an odd sort.”
Edward blinked, turning to see his friend watching her with just as much relish as he had done, and jealousy curled in his belly.
“Is that so?” he asked in a tight voice. “Married?”
“No. Although her brother’s just recently engaged.”
Edward felt something like relief, and he hated himself for it. He finished the wine, watching as she danced as elegantly as she always had, her gown pale green and her hair golden under the candlelight. He swallowed.
It was going to be a long, bloody evening.
Chapter 7
“You’ve been dancing quite a bit, Arabella,” Alvin said, his eyes flashing at her over his glass as they stood closer to the balcony to get some fresh air.
Her cheeks were warm, and her shoes pinched. She was ready to go home, for her mood was not getting any better that evening, and she wanted to be alone with her strange thoughts until she could be rid of them.
“Yes, well, I suppose it is all part and parcel of the Season.”
“And you, dear sister? Will you think of marriage this Season?” Her brother was smiling, but she could see the discomfort in his eyes.
He knew a little of her pain four years ago, but he did not know all, and she was certain he feared asking her.
