The color in her cheeks drained away. Merrick quickly touched her arm in an attempt to send her insecurities into the far distance. “Enough of Farnsworth for tonight. He is no longer important.”

“No. No, he certainly is not.”

“That’s my girl.” Merrick swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth. “I should mention from the outset that I should only need visit once or twice a year to assure myself that all is well with you. I doubt I would ever reverse any decision you made. Grayling has indicated you take a very sensible and farseeing approach to land management.”

She nodded slowly. “I had ample time to read about many things most married women do not. My husband had his own life and was rarely underfoot.”

Curiosity got the better of him. “Did you like being married?”

Her face changed to one of bitterness. “Not really. But after my husband died, I came to enjoy the freedom to come and go at will without explaining my every movement or expense. Then Farnsworth summoned me to be his daughter’s chaperone and I was once more forced to account for my every action and shilling spent. I miss Wiltshire and my friends. Farnsworth insisted I do things his way, far too often.”

“I see.” Merrick bit his lip. Arabella hadn’t been treated very fairly. While he could understand her frustration, he wouldn’t ever treat his wife that way. He hoped they would share a life. Given her wish for freedom, he decided then and there that he wouldn’t impose on her by staying at Winslette. He’d ride across from Grayling’s estate and keep his visits as short as possible. “Arabella, are you ready to go home? I fear if you remain much longer under my roof then my aunt will do her worst to ruin you or force the alternative.”

She looked up at him, confusion clear in her expression. “What alternative could there be?”

He eased back from her disappointed that a marriage between them had to be discussed under such circumstances. “My aunt would do everything in her power to avoid family scandal. She would insist I marry you.”

Arabella drew back a little. “I don’t want to be married. Not simply to avoid a scandal. I was naïve in marrying the first time, and I like what little freedom I have gained since. I abandoned my life to avoid a marriage I didn’t want. I doubt your aunt could persuade me to anything right now.”

“I assumed as much.” He smiled, though his disappointment was acute. He did not blame her. Marriage required sacrifice. “Can you be ready to leave early tomorrow? If so, I’ll take you home.”

She stared at him a long moment, her teeth worrying her lower lip. “Are you not busy with the season’s amusements? You go out so often that I would not mind if you’d rather remain here. I can easily make the journey alone.”

His heart clattered against his ribs frantically at the speculation on her face. Was she curious about whether he’d found a bride? “I wouldn’t dream of it. I assure you there is nothing of importance to keep me in London at present.”

“Oh.” Her eyes held his for a long moment, her expression clearing as she smiled shyly. “I will not mind going home with you.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

In a world where every word had to be guarded and every decision weighed carefully, Arabella’s choice to place her trust in Rothwell was extraordinary, even to her. At the end of each day of their journey home to Winslette, they’d had a quiet dinner together and then she’d spend the long hours of the night tossing and turning, finally to be awoken by Rothwell’s quiet tap on the door each morning so they could enjoy a very early departure, as was his preference.

They had been traveling since before the sun rose each morning, leaving London sleeping in their wake. They’d taken rooms at pleasant inns along the way, but had resumed their journey each morning without incident. She had barely spent a moment alone and was not sorry for it.

Rothwell remained alert on his side of the carriage, Arabella facing toward home. It was not lost on her the sense of peace that came with leaving London. What she wasn’t so sure of was why Rothwell expected nothing in return for his assistance.

His head turned from the window and their eyes met across the carriage. He neither smiled nor frowned, simply held her gaze a long moment before returning his attention to the view. It was almost as if he felt nothing about helping her. That was comforting but also a touch insulting. After giving it some thought, she realized she would miss his quiet company and the way he instantly made her feel safe.

Her gaze traveled to the man seated at his side. She had been rather startled to find Mr. Holland seated inside the carriage before she entered it that first morning. Rothwell gave no explanation for Holland’s presence, but the man made as unlikely a chaperone as there had ever been. He smiled as he turned the page.

And there it was again. A resemblance she couldn’t dismiss after so many hours of close confinement. Holland’s lips quirked often, a reaction perhaps to a passage in the book he was reading, and he turned the page, looking very much like Rothwell.

Arabella leaned her head against the squabs, allowing her deductions to form, unimpeded by emotion. Rothwell and Holland were related of a certainty. There was similarity in much of their faces, though only Rothwell could truly be considered handsome. Holland was shorter and seemed a few years older than his employer. She had few doubts they shared the same blood—they appeared as similar as brothers.

“It won’t be long now, I should think,” Rothwell murmured.

She smiled as she noticed that Rothwell spoke both for her own benefit as well as for that of Mr. Holland. Despite being lord and servant—or were they even that?—Rothwell appeared to consider the comfort of the other man quite often.

She said, “No, not long at all. Just along the way is a little bridge where the local children like to fish. After that is a row of very large oak trees beside a long stone wall. A short distance from there we turn right, and another mile after is Winslette.”

“You know the place very well indeed.” A frown marred his handsome face. “You were from Essex, Maidstone, were you not? Do you visit there often?”

She was surprised he knew and remembered that. “Not very often at all, but I do long to travel to see old friends. I suppose that will be difficult now. I did not consider this before, but given how things stand now, I know not how I will support myself.”

Rothwell smiled to acknowledge her situation. “Old friends are often the very best. They forgive lapses of communication more easily than newer acquaintances, in my opinion.”

She appreciated that he made no mention of how to solve every difficulty in her life. Having him, a friend of a friend, purchase her home was a remarkable boon and certainly removed one burden from her mind. Her servants would not be dismissed out of hand, but there was only so much she could ask of him for herself. Their friendship was far too insubstantial to risk. One demand too many and his aid might disappear completely. “I had a best friend when I was growing up there, but she married and moved to the north. We still write each year. I had wished to see her again one day.”

“Where did she move to? Do you know?”

“Somerset, a house east of Taunton.”

Rothwell smiled suddenly and glanced out the window. “I have an estate near there, don’t I, Holland?”

“Yes, my lord.” Holland closed his book. “A small house on a hill in the middle of several hundred acres, I believe.”

Rothwell frowned. “The roadway floods during the spring rains.”

“I believe that was why you bought the place.” Holland grinned. “You said the flooded road would lessen any interruptions from unwanted visitors.”