Page 35 of A Lady Igniting Wicked Passions
“Here I am,” Arabella replied, forcing a smile.
It was the hardest thing she had ever had to do. Harlton tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.
“You do not mean that smile. I can tell when you are forcing a good face on a bad situation. What has happened?”
“I might ask you the same thing,” Arabella replied.
“I have had an unpleasant conversation with your sister, just a few moments ago,” Harlton said, tightly.
“Let us not air our linen in public, shall we, Charlie?” Edgeworth said, moving to the side of the woman he was supposed to be marrying and looking over her shoulder for any who might be near enough to hear.
“Quite right, Simon,” Harlton replied.
“If you are forgetting yourselves enough to use your given names, it must have been a very unpleasant conversation,” Arabella said. “Did she challenge you to a duel, or something?”
“She might as well have. I do not believe she speaks for herself but rather is an intermediary for another. She gave me an…ultimatum,” Harlton said, sourly.
“What is worse, Charlie…Lord Harlton and I gave her the ammunition to hang us. Walked right into her damned, blasted trap,” Edgeworth said.
Uncharacteristically for him, his face showed livid anger. All pretence at joviality had melted away. He looked ready to kill. Harlton on the other hand looked like he was about to be sick. Arabella felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. There was too much in what they had said that was similar to what had just happened to Aaron and herself.
“We are talking of the Lady Isabella, I presume?” Arabella asked. “Daughter to the Earl of Eyworth and wife to Sir William Gove?”
Harlton raised an eyebrow and then looked past Arabella at someone approaching.
“Damnation! That is Elizabeth. I had excused myself on the pretence of a business matter to be discussed with Simon…I mean Lord Edgeworth. I must return to her. If she breaks off the engagement like all the others, my father will have my hide.”
“Go, Charlie!” Edgeworth whispered fiercely. “This is not over.”
Harlton slapped Edgeworth’s shoulder heartily as he passed him. Arabella saw the hand tighten, lingering a moment longer than was considered appropriate by the myopic members of the ton. She saw the look pass between them, anger and frustration from Edgeworth and sorrow from Harlton.
She felt their pain, understood their helplessness. It seemed the web that was being woven by the Lady Isabella was wider than she and Aaron had believed. As Harlton grinned boyishly and practically bounded to meet his fiancée, Arabella took Edgeworth’s arm and tugged him close to her.
“Aaron has received an ultimatum from Isabella. I will not pry into the nature of yours if you do not wish to share it. I can only suspect. You are not alone, Simon,” she said.
“Why can we not be free to love those we fall in love with. Why must we be chained to what those around us deem to be proper?” Simon said, quietly.
“Because we are also too in love with our status and its trappings,” Arabella replied as they moved out of the alcove to mingle once more with the guests. “Have you heard the rumour that abounds about my family?”
“You mean the Lady who eloped with an actor? I had heard the gossip but did not believe it.”
“He was a painter,” Arabella corrected.
“And yes, it was my Aunt Victoria. She is not discussed within the family and my father has let it be known that she died of fever. She is alive and well, living on the south coast. Kent, I believe. She was willing to sacrifice everything, including wealth and status for the sake of love. And if we were able to do the same, no-one would have power over us.”
Edgeworth shook his head. “I cannot. It would destroy my father.”
Arabella nodded. Her own reaction was much the same. Part of her wanted to shout from the rooftops that she and Aaron would marry. Not Aaron and Helena. But her father would be heartbroken at the deception. On top of his sister’s elopement, it would break him.
To Marcus Harrington, honour and name were everything. He was immensely proud of his family. Proud of his daughters. Helena for her feminine accomplishment which had secured her a marriage to a duke. Arabella for her sporting accomplishments, so like his own. And a respectable marriage for her too. To discover that both were shams and the scandal that would follow would be too much to bear.
“Be strong, my dear,” Edgeworth said, kindly. “We are walking into the lion’s den after all. And must maintain appearances.”
It was the kindest thing that herhusband-to-behad ever said to her. The first time he had shown empathy for her, rather than treating her as an inconvenience. She looked up and saw sympathy in his eyes, a recognition that they were both facing the same adversary, fighting the same battle. It made her warm to him somewhat.
Under different circumstances they might have been firm friends. Just as she was with Harlton. But could those friendships survive the malice of her own sister? The crowd in the Great Hall was being ushered to the sides of the room.
An orchestra was setting up at the end of the room closest to the doors leading to the drawing room and the guests were preparing to dance.
