“Excellent.” Rothwell passed behind her and moved to his desk.

Arabella sighed softly. She would be sad to leave him. However, the next moment her breath seized as Rothwell bent to pick up a paper lying on the floor. The special license. As his lips pursed, Arabella spun about, attempting to focus on the books before her rather than the man with the plan to marry. She hoped he didn’t ask her about disturbing his desk. Dropping it had been purely an accident, but not the fact that she’d read it and knew what it was. She pulled the first book her hand touched from the shelf and opened it, pretending to be considering the volume.

The drawer scraped open slowly and shut again with a soft click. “I’ll see you for dinner at eight, yes?”

Arabella swallowed nervously. “Yes, eight o’clock would suit me very well.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder and saw him smile in return. He moved closer, fitting his hat to his head, pulling his gloves into place. His dark eyes searched hers. “Until then, my lady.”

His hand brushed her back softly, just across her shoulder blades, and her pulse raced beyond her power to control it. She bit her lip, saw his eyes follow the nervous gesture, and quickly released it to clear her throat. “Until you return.”

His mouth quirked into a sensual smile just before he headed to the door. When he was gone from the house, when all was silent again, Arabella snatched up two volumes at random and practically ran the whole way back to her bedchamber so she could blush to her heart’s content in private. She didn’t know the first thing about seduction, but from that one scorching kiss days ago and the brief touch just now, she was sure she wanted Rothwell to be her first lover.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Merrick tooled his phaeton through Hyde Park in a glum mood and considered his behavior of late. At his side, Lady Mary Crawford chattered nonstop, smelled of lilac, and mentioned at least a dozen times how much she admired his aunt, as if that were any incentive to call on her again.

Mention of Aunt Pen had the opposite effect, in fact. He didn’t need his aunt to loom large in his intended’s life. He wanted to marry a woman who didn’t need to please everyone she met, and most especially didn’t mind not having closer ties to his mother’s family.

But the truth was that the existence of that damned special license had soured his mood for courtship. He was certain Arabella had seen it. In truth, he’d felt somewhat embarrassed at having one. Would she be sitting in his home wondering about it? Speculating on whom he was with in the park with today? Who he’d been calling on at other times? So far he’d deflected her inquiries on his return from similar outings, but if he intended to marry by special license, there was a time limit to her stay. She would have to go before he could propose to anyone.

And he was quickly coming to the conclusion that he did not want her to go at all.

He nodded to acquaintances gracing the park for the fashionable hour, but his mind was firmly on deciding the fastest way to return Lady Mary to her parents. Looking down to talk to a woman, even while sitting, made him feel he was conversing with a child. The truth was, he’d grown used to speaking with Arabella. Sitting or standing, her height placed her almost eye to eye with him in every situation. Today he’d seen a glimmer of the woman he’d known before Farnsworth had abused her. Her confidence was returning, along with her blushes. And yet he still could not decide whether they were silent invitations or not.

At his side, Lady Mary fluffed out her gown like a bird feathering its nest. “Do you spend much time in the country, my lord?”

“Not really. London mostly or Needham Hollow and Wiltshire, visiting with friends.”

Her face creased with confusion. “Not Essex? Surely you are at Newberry Park with your cousins most often.”

He glanced at the young woman at his side and shuddered. “Good Lord, no. I’d rather spend a night in Marshalsea Debtors Prison than voluntarily visit my grandfather’s estates. I spend as little of my time as possible with them.”

“Oh,” Lady Mary said at last, a frown growing on her face. “I had not known that. What about your cousin’s wedding? It will be the talk of the season.”

“I’m sure the event will be a success without me. I make no apologies for the estrangement.” He smiled at her. “They like to meddle and I do not appreciate it.”

Lady Mary faced forward, her brow furrowing. “I spend much time with my family, so I always thought you’d be at the wedding.”

“I enjoy the peace without that sort of thing.”

“I see.”

At last the chit fell silent, her attention fixed on her gloves. Was she thinking as he did now? They would not suit. Not at all. She would want and miss her family, inflicting them on him when he craved peace and quiet. He would have to reconsider his choice of bride. He might have to reconsider quite a lot.

It was a sad fact that he compared each woman he met to Arabella. Their height, their manners, their interest in the natural world. Each time he’d discovered a similarity that gave him hope, he’d also found fault. Was there not one woman in London to come close to Lady Farnsworth in accomplishments? He was starting to believe he’d set himself an impossible goal. If there was no one like Arabella, then perhaps he should ask her to marry him instead.

However, she’d made it quite plain that she wasn’t keen to marry and nothing in the past few days of conversation had hinted at a change of heart. But perhaps her distaste for it was largely due to the arranged match with Lord Parker and the way she’d been given little choice. She might react very differently should he propose, but he might wait until he was confident his proposal wouldn’t send her running for the street.

Could she overlook his debauched past, accept the secrets he could not turn aside from, and consider another marriage? From what he had learned of her first, she had not liked being married. There was the possibility he would fail and be disappointed, but there was also an equal chance that he might succeed.

He deposited Lady Mary at her door and cheerily waved good-bye, fully intending to never see her again as a would-be bride. He would return home and dine with Arabella and see if she might be interested in more than simple friendship.

The instant he stepped inside the door, he knew something was terribly wrong. Holland wore the expression he adopted when faced with being the bearer of bad news. Merrick braced himself. “What?”

“Lady Penelope Ford is waiting to see you.”

Merrick glanced left and right and then finally up to the ceiling. “Blast.”

“She hasn’t said anything,” Holland whispered. “I placed her in the parlor while she waited your return.”

“Thank you, Holland.” Merrick handed off his hat and gloves and strode into the room. He decided not to mince words today. Aunt Pen rarely made surprise visits to his home, and this was the worst possible time for one. “What do you want?”

His aunt paused with her teacup to her lips. “You’re in a mood, so I will come straight to the point. I’ve come to question you about Lady Farnsworth and her niece, Lady Cecily.”

As he’d suspected, his aunt’s arrival signaled trouble. “What about them?”

Aunt Pen leaned forward, her brow furrowing with deep lines of concern. “Lady Farnsworth and Lady Cecily have not been seen for some time. Lord Farnsworth tells quite a tale, that she ran away in terror of a horde of brigands.”

Merrick frowned at the growth of Farnsworth’s lie. Fairly soon it would be apparent to even a fool that nothing of the sort had happened. He had to tread carefully. It seemed possible that Aunt Pen knew nothing of Cecily’s elopement with Laurence, but the woman was a master at intrigue and could lie better than anyone he knew to serve her own purpose. “Something about midnight abductions and thievery.” He shrugged. “I saw Farnsworth at Mr. Milne’s just yesterday. I’m sure it’s all nonsense.”