Page 47 of A Lady Igniting Wicked Passions
“They have always been against you, Blakehill. Were you to take to the stage you would forever be cast as the villain of the piece,” Aaron said.
Blakehill nodded and rose with an empty glass. He looked at Aaron.
“Not for me, just now, Uncle.”
Arabella took his lead, also refusing another drink and looking to Aaron expectantly. At that moment, he was very aware that he was now married. And, given that the usual evening festivities would not take place, in their case, their wedding night could take place at any time. Arabella bit her lip and looked down, her eyes returning to his demurely, watching him from beneath lowered lashes.
While he knew Arabella to be innocent in some ways, his experience told him she was not in others. To see such a seductive gaze from her, knowing the combination of innocence and devilry in her was intoxicating.
But there was business to be concluded first. He could have cheerfully cursed Blakehill for his importune arrival at that moment. For all his uncle would wish to congratulate him, it was a damned inconvenient time to do it.
“Arabella. Would you excuse us for a while? I suspect that Blakehill has some urgent matters to discuss with me and I would not bore you with business on our wedding day. Perhaps, you could explore the house and I will come and find you?”
Arabella’s eyes went wide for a moment and her mouth fell open. Then she smiled as though no such reaction had occurred and nodded graciously.
“But of course. I am sure your business affairs will be extremely tedious to a lay person like me. I should very much like to look around this extraordinary house. Blakehill, it was a pleasure to meet you and thank you for your congratulations and our wedding luncheon.”
Aaron rose with Blakehill, who kissed Arabella’s hand and bade her farewell. As she left the room, she looked back at Aaron and he saw the glint of ice in her sapphire eyes. The door was then closed behind her and he turned back to Blakehill.
“Damn you, Blakehill. But you pick your moments!” he snapped.
Blakehill spread his hands wide as he sat back. “Needs must, old boy. I had a visit to the club last night. A very unwelcome one.”
Aaron sat, running a hand across his face. “The Whitechapel gang?”
Blakehill nodded gravely. “William Rivers. The Black Eel himself. Very concerned that I had fallen behind on my payments and very interested to know when he would get a return on his investment.”
“Bloody hell,” Aaron sighed. “I will speak to him. Buy us more time. This Dukedom must be worth something.”
“You certainly won’t. I’ve kept you away from him thus far and I don’t intend to stop now. I will deal with the shadier characters and you can remain my silent and invisible partner. No need to sully the Dukedom with an association to a gambling hell.”
“The Dukedom is sullied enough as it is,” Aaron said bitterly.
“Nonsense. Romance, that’s what you and young Arabella are. Young lovers who have found each other despite the odds being stacked against you. A story worthy of the bard himself.”
“Aye, Romeo, and Juliet. And we both know how that tale ends.”
Blakehill waved aside Aaron’s gloomy outlook.
“How much did Arabella’s dowry come to?”
Aaron told him and he nodded, pursing his lips.
“Well, it’s something at least. Doesn’t go as far as we’d hoped but it goes somewhere.”
“What you mean is, you bloody fool, why couldn’t you think with your head for once and marry the one with the fat dowry and get my head off the chopping block?” Aaron said, rising and walking to the decanter.
Blakehill followed and snatched the glass from Aaron’s hand. “I’ll not be to blame for you being too drunk to perform for your wife. The dowry will buy some time with the Eel. Get him off our back while we…consider our options.”
Aaron scowled, putting his hands on the sideboard, and lowering his head. It was a mess. Acting with his heart instead of his head had lost him a fortune. Money that would have cleared Blakehill’s debts, which were also Aaron’s debts.
But he hadn’t been able to put aside his feelings for Arabella. Hadn’t been able to bring himself to do what thousands of gentlemen did every day in England, marry for the convenience. For money. He just had to chase love. And now he was facing penury. Blakehill put a broad hand on his shoulder.
“Go to your wife and forget your troubles for one night. They will still be there waiting for you tomorrow,” he said, kindly.
Aaron nodded, clapping his uncle on the back.
“You are right, as always, Blakehill. Leave the ledger for me to look over though. And I will contact you tomorrow to go over things again. Here,” he reached into a pocket and took out the banker’s draft that Eversden had written for him.
