First, Arabella had accepted his half brothers’ existence with not even a ripple of distress. She’d even guessed about Holland. Then there was her kindness to young Danny to consider. There was no reason for the boy to be lodged in the house. He would be perfectly comfortable in the stables with Jimmy and the others. Placing young Danny beside Holland in Winslette House had won his brothers over completely.

Second, until presented with the omitted details of his hunt for a bride, she’d stood up to Aunt Penelope. The first woman he’d ever witnessed doing so and that moment had been glorious. She might not have answered his proposal of marriage the way he’d hoped, but she wouldn’t listen to false criticism. But then the tables had turned against him, and he’d been battling just to have her look at him.

He should not have rushed his proposal. He should have waited, as he’d suspected was the right course from the beginning. He tried to catch her eye one more time, but she turned toward her visitors instead. “Gray, I need to speak with you in private,” he whispered.

Grayling frowned. “About Miss Milne or Lady Mary?”

He scowled at his aunt. She’d done her work well if even Grayling had picked up on those names. “Neither.”

Grayling’s wife had a talent for deflecting discussion to the three little girls surrounding her—the apples of their father’s eye and also their new mother’s. The middle child, Maisy, wasn’t so docile as to sit still. She climbed onto Arabella’s lap and snuggled against her. His heart skipped a beat at the expression of tenderness on Arabella’s face. She appeared completely enthralled by the little girl, her eyes growing soft and full of love. Merrick wanted that for Arabella so badly his heart ached. To make her part of his family so she would never be alone again and might, if they were lucky, have a daughter of their own. “Would you come with me?”

He led Grayling into the quieter library and shut the door. “Arabella refused my offer of marriage, thanks, I believe, in no small part to my aunt’s presence and her accusations that I’d raised hopes in those two young ladies she keeps mentioning.”

Suddenly, Grayling was before him, his hand fisted in his cravat, his expression furious. “I don’t care what your aunt has to say. That isn’t good enough for Arabella. Ask again.”

Merrick fought to free himself and put distance between them. “Believe me, I have not changed my mind about wanting to marry her. I’m just not certain that what I say is getting through anymore. She believes my aunt’s accusations that I led those women on. I paid little more interest than any man considering marriage. Let me explain how things began, and perhaps you can suggest a way forward.”

He told Grayling almost everything that had occurred over the past weeks, leaving out nothing of what he’d done in his search for a bride and why he believed Arabella was the better choice. They were good together. He did leave off mention of Arabella’s virginity and the recent loss of it when they became lovers. That was private and would remain between them alone. “My aunt has managed to turn Arabella’s trust from me and has convinced her to leave Winslette. I had not meant for that to happen. When I bought the estate, it was with the understanding that this would always be her home.”

Grayling settled against a desktop, arms folded across his chest. “Arabella has always trod her own path. It seems my fears of a few months ago were accurate. How did you convince her to stay with you?”

He shrugged. “I did nothing. She seemed determined to hide, and I simply never suggested she leave. If not for my aunt, it’s possible we would both still be in my London town house. As of a few days ago, she’d only just regained her confidence around others.”

“I would never have guessed her to have been injured and afraid. She didn’t confess the extent of the situation yesterday.” Gray tilted his head. “Thank you for looking after her so well. For a scoundrel who can have almost any woman he wants, I’m rather proud of your restraint.”

“Past tense.” He shook his head. “I did what you suggested. I asked Arabella to be my wife this morning, well before the timing was right, and have been refused. I don’t know what to say to convince her I don’t want anyone else. She knew about the special license already. Found it herself and pretended not to until this morning. I fear the existence of the damn thing has convinced her I’m in a hurry to wed.”

Grayling’s gaze grew shrewd. “She grows more reserved when troubled. She looks about to weep every time your aunt speaks. I take those two things as a very good sign. She’s conflicted about what to do. Augusta used to worry when Arabella tried so hard to be agreeable. Rosemary has voiced the same concerns in different ways. The only thing I can suggest is patience. Destroying the license or allowing the license to lapse might ease her tension. How patient are you prepared to be?”

“I’d wait an eternity just to see her smile again.” Hearing his own conclusions from Grayling’s lips brought relief. He might still have a chance to change her mind, but revisiting the subject today wouldn’t help. He’d have to give her time. He could do that. “The license is still in London, so I can do nothing there. Let’s return to the ladies.”

Merrick stepped back into the drawing room and glanced around without seeing Arabella. Lady Grayling was still trading subtle barbs with his aunt, the three children lolling on the thick carpet between them. Although Merrick listened for her footsteps, Arabella appeared nowhere nearby. He glanced at his pocket watch, wondering how soon after his departure she’d slipped away. He and Gray had spoken perhaps a quarter hour. It was unlike a hostess to desert her guests for that length of time.

When the ladies paused in their conversation, Merrick cleared his throat to interrupt. “When and where did Lady Farnsworth go?”

The pair glanced at each other, then at the clock. His aunt’s expression grew disapproving. “Close on a quarter hour. She did not say what she needed to do, either.”

Lady Grayling rose from her chair. “She excused herself soon after you left. I assumed she needed a private moment or was coming to speak with you.”

“We did not see her at all. If you’ll excuse me, I would like to check on her.”

Merrick left them quickly, took the stairs two at a time, and barged into Arabella’s bedchamber. The room was empty, as were all rooms above stairs when he inspected them. Sure that he’d overlooked no smaller chambers, he headed below and poked his head into every chamber he remembered from his tour of the house. In the small room where Arabella’s fledgling greenhouse resided, Merrick found his half brother sprawled on the floor untidily, unresponsive when his name was called.

Merrick rushed to him and shook his shoulder. “Holland. Wake up, brother.”

Holland stirred slowly, blinking at the room as he turned over. Blood oozed from a nasty head wound and Merrick quickly pressed a clean handkerchief to the injury. “What happened to you?”

“I don’t remember.” Holland slowly sat up and rested against him a long moment, one hand held to his head. “I heard a sound in here and thought to inquire if Lady Arabella needed my help.”

Relief coursed through him. “Did she?”

“She wasn’t here. I never saw her.” Holland fumbled for his pocket watch and stared at the time. “I don’t remember anything beyond that moment. I think it was a little after the hour when I came in.”

Merrick peeled the cloth from the wound as Holland put his pocket watch away. The bleeding didn’t seem too bad, but he wasn’t used to such matters. He’d need help with his brother. “Someone else must have been here though.”

He put his arm about his brother and lifted him carefully to his feet.

“The way my head hurts, I’m not surprised.” Holland groaned. “Do you think Farnsworth returned?”