Page 6 of A Lady Igniting Wicked Passions
Opposite and hard at work arranging a bouquet of white, pink, and red roses was the Lady Helena Harrington, Arabella’s older sister. Both showed their disdain by continuing their conversation long after Arabella had seated herself next to her father.
He looked at her, made a face and then cleared his throat loudly. Lady Eversden looked at him, then at her youngest daughter.
“Arabella. How nice of you to grace us with your presence.”
“I apologize, Mama,” Arabella said. “It was unconscionable.”
“There are serious matters to be discussed,” Helena put in severely.
Helena and their mother shared looks. Both had hair that shaded from auburn to red depending on the light. Both had the characteristically blue eyes of Amelia’s family, the Mastertons. The heart-shaped face that all three women shared was added to with dimples for Amelia and her eldest daughter, which Arabella lacked. She turned to Helena, who regarded her from the height of a raised chin.
“I apologize, Helena. What matters did you wish to discuss?”
Arabella was fishing for a reaction, goaded by her sister’s superior attitude. She regretted her words immediately, as she always did when Helena provoked her. Helena folded her hands in her lap and maintained an icy calm.
“I believe that you are aware but I am happy to remind you. Mama, Papa, may I?”
“Of course, dearest one,” Lady Eversden said with the faintest smile of pride.
“I speak, of course, of two marriages which are to happen at the same time. My union with His Grace the Duke of Ashenwood and yours with the Marquess of Edgeworth. There is a great deal to be done. Invitations have been issued but we must talk of venues, numbers of guests and a hundred other things.”
As always, Helena spoke with absolute precision and perfection. She had been the pride of their governess and had been sent to a finishing school at great expense. Arabella had also attended but had run away three times before being expelled. She looked down, affecting an air of suitable shame as she knew was expected of her. Her father patted her forearm comfortingly and she caught a decisive nod from her mother.
“It is very unhelpful when you run away from your responsibilities,” Lady Eversden said. “You have been fond of doing so throughout your life but that was when you were young and foolish. You are now a woman and a lady at that. The time has come to put aside childish things.”
“What is past is prologue,” Arabella muttered under her breath, knowing that she was the only one in the room to have taken Shakespeare to heart.
Lady Eversden sniffed. Lord Eversden grunted and Helena remained silent, merely looking patiently and politely at her sister as though waiting.
“I have apologized,” Arabella said, trying to keep the testiness out of her voice. “Please, let us continue with our plans. Do not make my ears a stranger to your thoughts.”
Helena nodded after a moment and Arabella suppressed a smile. None knew that she was quoting a line admonishing against conspiracy. She contented herself with the barb which only she could see and sat back in her seat, looking around the room as Helena began to talk once more. Arabella’s eyes were seized by a silver tray on a side table at her father’s elbow.
A number of envelopes lay upon the tray. The topmost was a pale blue and addressed to her. Excitement swelled in her at the sight of it. Only one person wrote to her using blue envelopes.
Arabella had long ago arranged with that person a cipher so that should their correspondence be intercepted by any of Arabella’s immediate family, the contents of the letter and the author would be hidden from them.
If they knew that the letter came to Arabella from her Aunt Victoria, they would likely burn it. Victoria was a pariah, younger sister to Lord Eversden and disgrace to the family. She was whispered of by those within the Eversden’s social circle as wicked, immoral and a corruptor of the young. At that moment, Arabella wanted nothing more than to talk through her current predicament with Aunt Victoria.
Chapter 4
The Long Hall glittered. Three huge chandeliers were spaced along the room’s immense length. Candlelight from sconces high above reached the floor through a forest of crystal droplets. Finery filled the room, from the gloriously coloured gowns of the ladies, their beauty enhanced by jewellery, or the gilt-edged mirrors that lined the walls.
Aaron strode into the room amid the echoes of his name and title, introduced by the groom who stood attendance at the door. Heads turned in his direction and he smiled at those he made eye contact with, walking with hands clasped behind his back.
There were many red coats among the men, displaying their recent military service and rank, as well as their honours. Aaron wore the blue coat of the Prince of Wales Own Hussars, striped by gold braiding across its front.
He still retained the moustache that had been an unofficial uniform requirement of his regiment. He kept his hands clasped behind his back to prevent his left hand from straying to the hip at which he had become accustomed to wearing a sword.
Even with the war over, the habits formed during that time were difficult to dislodge. Upon his breast he wore a single medal, the only one he placed any value upon. It was small, a red enamel cross on a white background.
“Your Grace. You are most welcome. Thank you for accepting my invitation.”
Aaron turned to see a balding man with a fringe of fair hair clinging resolutely to his head. Green eyes regarded him from between permanently narrowed lids. For a moment, Aaron’s mind returned a blank as he stared at him. Then recognition dawned. He hoped the gap had not been evident.
“Lord Eversden,” Aaron said with a smile. “What a magnificent home you have. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Lady Eversden’s idea. To bring together our two happy couples and present them to the gathered society of our two counties. May I introduce my wife.”
