Page 7 of An Earl's Scandalous Return
“No, brother. I have no plans to.” Changing the painful subject, she asked, “Where is Jacinda? I haven’t seen her.”
“Nor I.” Alvin frowned as she sipped her cool lemonade, hoping it would quell the heat in her cheeks. “I’ve received no note from her, but perhaps she is ill.”
“I hope not. I’ve been corresponding with the duchess about the wedding, and we have a few ideas we want to talk to her about.” Yes, thinking about someone else’s wedding plans would help to keep Arabella’s thoughts distracted.
In a few days, once the plans increased and the business of the Season would as well, she would be able to let go of the heaviness of dread in her belly.
“Ah, of course.” Alvin grinned. “I will leave you ladies to discuss, but please allow me one dance with my betrothed.”
She chuckled at his waggling eyebrows. “Yes, yes. I will. Oh, there she is.”
Arabella spotted her walking through the crowd, dressed in a lovely pink gown, but her cheeks were pale. Her eyes were red, too, as if she’d been crying, and Arabella wondered what the matter could be. The Jacinda she knew was rarely sad, and since her engagement had been announced, she had been positively gleeful.
“My love,” Alvin said, grasping her hands when she approached them.
“Good evening,” she said to them both in a slightly hoarse voice. “Alvin, I need to speak with you. Privately.”
“Of course, my dear.” Alvin nodded at Arabella, and Arabella gave them both a weak smile as they left arm in arm.
She sighed, finishing her lemonade and placing it on a passing tray. Her card was nearly full, but right then, she had a little break and wished to find a friend. It would be much more fun to pass the evening chattering about gossip than watching to see if someone else could possibly replace the ‘him’ in her mind.
Arabella scanned the rather large crowd, seeking out her dear friend Charlotte. Charlotte could make everything better and make her laugh. But then she saw something she thought couldn’t possibly be. Her eyes had skimmed past it too quickly, and then she darted them back again. Her breath caught in her chest. Everything in the room stilled, and the sounds dulled.
Edward.
He wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was speaking to an old friend, Baron Farthing, and they were laughing about something. Or rather, the baron was laughing, but Edward looked grim and taut as he listened. Her body stiffened as well, old feelings rushing forward, escaping from the tight, locked box she’d kept them in for so long, pressing against her chest until she wasn’t sure she could breathe.
Arabella knew she should look away, but she couldn’t. Her eyes had been hungry for him for so long, and now they were drinking their fill. Besides, his four years on the continent had served him well. He seemed a little broader in the shoulder, his coat tight across his back, and his waistcoat smoothed over a flat belly.
Her eyes drifted down to his waist and the snug breeches on his firm, athletic thighs. When her gaze returned to his face, she could see the Adam’s apple over his cravat and the fact that his skin was more tanned than she’d ever seen it. Dark stubble lay over his jaw, and his dark curls were a little more devil-may-care than usual.
That wasn’t fair. He looked positively roguish. Roguish in a way that made her heart trip into a new beat. That made her cheeks continue to warm and her belly swirl with nerves. She had looked into those eyes, kissed those lips, and been touched by those hands.
She licked her lips when she looked at his hands now, clutching a glass of wine, also tanned and strong, perhaps even bigger than she remembered. He looked different, but she could still see the same Edward, the one who always made her laugh, always knew everything about everything, and loved his father very much.
But then, at that moment, he turned, and their eyes met. Arabella thought she could hear a little whimper escape her lips as a heated wave tumbled from her head to her toes. All memories came crashing down, not one of them having been forgotten as she’d thought, and tears sprung to her eyes.
This was her Edward, the one she’d loved with everything she had, and he was staring at her with those hazel eyes, the eyes she had never been able to banish from her memory. But while his gaze did not waver from her, his lips in a firm line, Arabella felt faint. No, she could not face him.
Go, I must go.
When he moved from the wall, nodding at Baron Farthing, she knew he was coming for her. In a moment, it made the room halve in size, and the air seep away as if there never had been any to begin with. She picked up a handful of her skirts, and with a shuddering breath, she turned away and pushed through the crowd to the door. No, she could not face Edward that night or perhaps ever again.
Chapter 8
Edward paused, watching Arabella race away through the crowd, her hand on her skirts, her cheeks pale. A morbid smirk twitched at his lips, and his fists clenched. What had he been thinking? About to go and bloody approach her or what? But just as it had always been, something about Lady Arabella Simpkin drew him in like a moth to a flame.
He was furious at her for toying with him all those years ago and then just giving up as if he’d meant nothing. As if all the time, laughter, and hope they’d shared had been as insignificant as dust.
As he watched the flutter of green and gold rush away through the crowd, his heart clenched. She was toying with him yet again, running away just as she had before. And why? With a grimace, he turned away and found Farthing watching him with curiosity.
“Good God, old friend, you look as if you’re about to cause bloody murder in here.”
“I just might.” He snatched a glass of something, he didn’t care what, from a footman’s tray and drank. “I forgot how much I dislike these sorts of things.”
That wasn’t always true. When Arabella had been in his sphere, her lovely eyes, a mixture of blue-green he could never identify, looked upon him, he’d loved dancing. He wanted nothing more than to remain at balls for hours upon hours if he could only see her, talk to her, touch her.
But now, they left a bad taste in his mouth. And now that she was gone, the room seemed full to bursting, sweaty, reddened faces moving around him, without hardly one person worth speaking to.
