“Are you truly all alone? Have you no one to protect you?”

Charles read the answer in her face. Looking into her eyes, he was conscious of an overwhelming desire to hold her close and tell her that he would care for her as long as they both lived.

No other woman had ever made him feel quite like this. His stomach clenched with a fierce desire that shocked him by its intensity. And yet it was more than desire—it was a feeling he had never experienced before that he did not yet understand. He reached out, touching her cheek with one finger.

“Arabella…”

A Wealthy Widow

Harlequin®Historical

MILLS & BOON

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Author Note

In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, there was a passion for gothic novels. When huge old houses were lit by candlelight, and there were none of today’s modern conveniences, it must have been gorgeously frightening for society ladies to read of young girls cruelly locked away and at the mercy of evil men. How much more terrifying would it be for a young girl stolen from the bosom of a loving family to be forced to take part in a satanic ritual? And think of how her family must have suffered when she could not be found! But in the age of Romance there were at least three brave men willing to walk through hellfire for the sake of the women they loved.

This trilogy deals with the abduction of Miss Sarah Hunter and the search for her by her brother Charles, the Earl of Cavendish and Mr. John Elworthy. It began with Elizabeth Travers and the Earl of Cavendish, and continues with Charles Hunter and Lady Arabella Marshall. The last book tells Sarah’s own story.

The element of darkness is balanced by the thrill of romance, and I hope you will love reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you.

A Wealthy Widow
ANNE HERRIES

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

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#896 NOTORIOUS RAKE, INNOCENT LADY

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Her virginity would be sold to the highest bidder! Determined not to enter into an arranged marriage, Julia could see no way out—unless she could seduce the notorious Black Rake….

Harlequin®Historical is loosening the laces with our newest, hottest, sexiest miniseries, Undone!

#897 COOPER’S WOMAN—Carol Finch

A proper lady should have no dealings with a gunfighter who has a shady past, yet Alexa is bent on becoming Cooper’s woman!

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#898 TAKEN BY THE VIKING—Michelle Styles

A dark, arrogant Viking swept Annis back to his homeland. Now she must choose between the lowly work that befits a captive and a life of sinful pleasure in the Viking’s arms!

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#236 TALK OF THE TON—Mary Nichols

Andrew Melhurst had come to her rescue when she needed him most, but should Elizabeth consider marrying him to save her reputation?

Rumors and scandal in high society!

ANNE HERRIES

Winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize, Anne Herries lives in Cambridgeshire. She is fond of watching wildlife, and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment and to give pleasure to her readers.

Available from Harlequin®Historical and ANNE HERRIES

The Abducted Bride #135

Captive of the Harem #145

The Sheikh #157

Rosalyn and the Scoundrel #166

A Matter of Honor #173

*A Perfect Knight #180

*A Knight of Honor #184

*Her Knight Protector #188

**Lady in Waiting #202

**The Adventurer’s Wife #208

‡Forbidden Lady #209

†An Improper Companion #227

‡The Lord’s Forced Bride #231

†A Wealthy Widow #235

Look out for Sarah’s story in

A Worthy Gentleman

Coming soon

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Afterword

Prologue

‘I had begun to think you would not come today,’ the girl said, smiling at her visitor. She was a pretty girl with soft fair hair that gently waved to the nape of her neck, though at the temples the wings of white testified to the suffering of a debilitating illness. Her eyes were a deep green, but there were shadows in them, and hollows in her cheekbones. She was recovering her health, but the nightmare of her past still haunted her. ‘Nana has been a little better this morning, but she looks forward to your visits so much—and so do I, of course.’

‘I know.’ Arabella placed her basket on the table. It was filled with delicacies, the kind of thing that would tempt an invalid to eat. Her old nurse had cared for her all her life until she retired to this cottage on the estate, and Arabella was very fond of the elderly lady. She smiled at the girl, of whom she was also extremely fond, loving her as she would a sister. ‘I look forward to them too, but Nana is so fortunate to have you to look after her, May. It was a lucky day for us when you came into our lives.’

For a moment the girl’s face clouded. Her friends called her May because it was during that month that she had wandered into their lives more than a year earlier. She had not known where she came from or even her own name. All she knew was that she had been walking a long time. She had been cold and tired and very hungry when she arrived at the isolated cottage at the edge of the village. She hardly remembered knocking at Nana’s door to beg for food, because she had collapsed on to the floor only moments after being invited inside.

May had been desperately ill, her feet torn and bleeding, almost starving and in a raging fever for days on end. Nana had nursed her devotedly, sitting by her bed and comforting her as she cried out and tossed from side to side, haunted by terrible nightmares. The doctor had held little hope of her recovery, but Nana and Arabella had cared for her, never giving up even when it seemed hopeless. Arabella had visited at least twice a day, bringing them both nourishing foods, medicines and fuel for the fire. Sometimes she sat up throughout the night so that Nana could rest. Between the two of them they had coaxed May back to life. And when she began to recover and get up, Arabella had given May pretty clothes to wear for she had only the thin silk shift she had been dressed in when she arrived. May knew that she owed her life to Nana and Belle.

‘I am the lucky one,’ she said now. ‘You have both been so kind to me. You don’t know where I came from or what kind of a person I am. I could be a thief or…anything.’

‘No, you could not,’ Lady Arabella Marshall said, her dark eyes bright with mischief. ‘I know that you are honest, kind and loyal, May. I am so glad that you are here with Nana. Otherwise, I could not easily have gone to London, as I must next week. It is tiresome, but I am promised to my aunt—though if she imagines I shall marry to oblige her she will be disappointed. I have no intention of it!’

‘Do you not wish to marry?’ May looked at her, feeling a little puzzled. Belle was very beautiful with glossy hair the colour of a raven’s wing and dark eyes that seemed to glow silver when she felt anything deeply. She was wealthy in her own right and had been married at eighteen to her childhood sweetheart, who had been killed fighting the French. ‘Are you still grieving for your husband, Belle?’

‘I am not sure,’ Belle said truthfully. ‘We were very much in love, May. I adored Ben all my life. Our fathers’ estates were side by side and we saw each other often. He taught me to ride when I was little and I worshipped him, tagging behind him like a puppy…’ Her laughter was rich and warm and wholly delightful. ‘He was always so brave and he was killed being a hero. His commanding officer wrote me a charming letter about how much he was loved by all who knew him. How could any other man measure up to him? If I married, I think I should be for ever comparing my husband to Ben—and that would not be fair, would it?’ Her lovely eyes were sad, haunted by regret for the husband she had lost.

‘No, but perhaps you might love someone if you let yourself.’

‘I love you and Nana,’ Arabella said. ‘And my aunt too, of course. I shall visit Aunt Hester, because, apart from Tilda, who is a distant cousin of my mother’s, she is my only relation. She and, of course, her son, Cousin Ralph—whom I detest, though I do not tell her so for she is a dear and cannot help having a toad as her son. Ralph takes after his father, who made poor Hester’s life a misery until he obligingly died and left her comfortably provided for.’ Arabella shrugged one dainty shoulder.

‘I promised my aunt I would go up to town when the Season was almost over. I do not wish to join the mad whirl of the matrimony stakes, but I dare say we shall find enough to amuse us. I enjoy the theatre and there will still be those families who do not care to decamp to the sea or the country. It will be lively enough for me.’ And she avoided the Season because it gave too many opportunities for unwelcome marriage proposals, of which she had already received more than she could recall.

Her eyes rested on the girl for a moment. She had not told May, but one of her reasons for going up to town was because she intended to find an investigative agent, to search for details of the girl’s past. May seemed content to stay with Nana, but she did not belong here. Somewhere she must have a family who cared for her. At least, Arabella hoped that there was someone who cared about the girl.

It was nearly sixteen months since she had come to them and Belle had hoped that her memory might return. As yet the past remained a secret to them all, but Arabella was determined to discover the truth. She had waited because May was still so vulnerable, still unable to cope with questions about the past. It was time to try to discover the truth, but whether or not she told May of her findings depended on what that truth turned out to be. The girl was safe and loved with them and Arabella would never desert her. Only if she had a loving family to welcome her back would Arabella tell her what she had discovered.

‘I shall go up and see Nana now, dearest,’ she said. ‘If you look in the basket, you will find a book of poems I thought you might like to have. And there are some embroidery silks. I know that you like to sew. I shall bring you some material from town and you may use it to make up whatever you choose. What colour would you like for a new gown?’

‘You spoil me,’ May said, looking thoughtful. ‘But if I could choose, I think I should like yellow…yes, that is a colour I like.’

Arabella nodded. It was a small thing to discover, but she had learned not to ask the important questions. Little by little, she was teaching May to know what she liked, and perhaps one day she would remember all the things she had forgotten.

Chapter One

Charles Hunter stared moodily at the tankard in front of him. He had been drinking heavily the previous night, drinking because of the shock of the news that Daniel had told him concerning his sister. It had thrown him into turmoil again. He had been searching for her for more than a year, torn between doubt and hope. At first he had not known what had happened to his sister. She had seemed to disappear into thin air, and he had suspected that she had been kidnapped. Daniel, Earl of Cavendish, and others of his friends had vowed to help him find Sarah. After exhaustive investigations, acting on information received from a certain Mr Palmer, they had all believed the search was over. Charles had been planning to take a young girl’s body from a suicide’s grave and bury her at the family vault at his home, but now Daniel had aroused fresh doubts in his mind.

‘Talk to Fred yourself,’ Daniel had told him just before he left on his wedding trip with Elizabeth, his new and much-loved wife. ‘Fred was a footman for Sir Montague Forsythe and he says that he found a girl wandering in distress at about the time we know Sarah ran away from her captors. Palmer told us that she might have drowned herself in the lake that night, but what Fred has told me makes me doubt that. I have taken Fred into my employ as an assistant to my gamekeeper and I believe him honest. I do not think he can tell you more than I have already—but it makes me think that it was not Sarah who drowned herself in Forsythe’s lake, but a village girl who had been turned out by her family because she was with child.’

‘Then where is Sarah?’ Charles had been repeating the question over and over again in his own mind ever since his friend’s revelations.

This morning his head felt as if there were a hundred hammers working at his temples. His own fault, he readily admitted, for drinking. Feeling sorry for himself would not help him find his sister—if there was any chance of it! Sarah had been missing for so many months, more than he cared to remember—and all the agents he had employed had failed to find any trace of her. It was as if she had vanished from the face of the earth. His mother believed her dead—had always believed it, even before they had heard of the unknown girl who had drowned herself. Daniel had given him hope, kept on searching when Charles might have given way to despair. Charles had thought her dead, but now he was haunted by the idea that Sarah was alive. His worst fear was that she was trapped in a whorehouse somewhere, living in fear and misery. His sweet, innocent little sister at the mercy of evil men!

‘Oh, God, no! Damn it, no!’ Charles said the words aloud, anger mixing with the agony of uncertainty. He brought his fist down hard on the table in front of him, making the remnants of his meal fly from the plate. ‘I cannot bear it. It shall not be!’

‘I beg your pardon, sir. The landlord told me I might share the parlour with a gentleman. I am sorry if you feel it an intrusion.’

Charles blinked and looked up. Until that moment he had not realised he was no longer alone in the inn parlour. For a moment he stared at the young woman, struggling to focus his somewhat bleary eyes. She was dressed in the height of fashion, clearly a person of some wealth and consequence—and he realised, as he raised his eyes to her face, extremely beautiful, though not in the usual way. The hair peeping from beneath her elegant travelling bonnet was a glossy black and her eyes were very dark, though as he continued to stare at her, he saw a silver spark in their depths.

‘If I am intruding, I can leave…’

‘No, of course not.’ Charles belatedly got to his feet. ‘Excuse me. I was about to go myself. Please feel free to call the parlour your own, ma’am.’ His words were abrupt, harsh, for his mood was bleak, tortured, and he hardly knew what he said or did. ‘I have things to do…’

As he walked from the parlour he was aware that he had probably sounded rude. It was not how he would have greeted such a woman in the old days, for she was certainly a beauty, and the type of woman he most admired. He had admired Elizabeth Travers—the young woman Daniel had recently married—and he had been rude to her too at the start. He had apologised to her later for his boorish behaviour, but at the moment he was too tense, too filled with apprehension to be the gentleman he was at heart. How could he be carefree and charming, when his guilt and remorse haunted him? He ought to have found Sarah by now!

It was unlikely that Fred, the footman-turned-gamekeeper, would be able to help him find Sarah, but Daniel had put him in touch with another man who might help him. Jesiah Tobbold was a man of some resources. He had helped Daniel protect his family from Sir Montague Forsythe. There was nothing to fear from Forsythe now that he was dead. Charles had killed him in a desperate struggle when the villain had tried to escape after kidnapping Elizabeth and murdering Lady Roxborough.

Not for the first time, Charles wished that they had managed to keep Forsythe alive. He should have died at the end of a hangman’s noose, as Daniel had always intended. Perhaps he could have told them where Sarah was…if he knew. Had she managed to evade her captors that fateful night? Or had Forsythe found her and imprisoned her in one of his houses of ill repute? The question haunted Charles. Until he had discovered the truth he would never rest. His mind was made up. He would speak to the assistant gamekeeper and then ask Tobbold for help to continue the search.

Arabella stood for a moment staring after the man who had just left the inn parlour so abruptly. His behaviour had shocked her, not so much because he was rude, but because of the expression of near desperation on his face—and because he so obviously did not recognise her. It was several years since they had met, but she had known him despite the ravages of grief in his face. She was sure it was grief that had given him those dark shadows beneath his eyes, and wondered what had caused him such pain.

Of course they had met only once, at her wedding to Sir Benjamin Marshall. She was sure in her own mind that his name was Charles Hunter and that he had been one of several young men introduced to her that day by Ben. Charles Hunter had been very different then. She remembered that he had teased her, telling her that if she grew tired of her husband she might turn to him. She had laughed at him, for nothing could have made her grow tired of her beloved Ben. Handsome and carefree then, what could have changed Charles Hunter from the devil-may-care young man he had been to this gaunt-eyed stranger? She sensed that he had suffered—was still suffering deeply.

‘Oh, Arabella, they say it will take several hours to mend the wheel of your carriage,’ her companion said, coming in at that moment. ‘The landlord says he can offer us a room for the night, if you wish for it.’

‘We shall stay here if we are forced,’ Arabella said. She glanced round the small room, which was not quite what she was used to when travelling, though clean and adequate. ‘But I would prefer to go on to the White Hart outside Richmond if we are able. My aunt expects us tomorrow and we may send her a message from there to tell her that we have suffered a delay.’

‘What shall I tell the landlord?’

‘Leave it to me, Tilda,’ Arabella said and smiled at her companion. Tilda Redmond was a distant cousin of her mother’s, a spinster lady of middle years, and had come to bear her company after Ben was killed. She had been meant to stay just for a few weeks, but she had shown no sign of wanting to leave and Arabella did not have the heart to send her away. Besides, she had made up her mind not to marry again, and Tilda was always so obliging. ‘I have bespoken nuncheon from our host, and we shall see how they fare with mending that wheel before we decide.’

‘As you wish,’ Tilda said. She went to warm her hands by the fire—although it was the middle of August she felt cold, as she invariably did. ‘I thought we were to share the parlour with a gentleman?’

‘Oh, he left,’ Arabella said with a shrug. ‘I dare say he had finished his ale and was anxious to continue his journey.’

‘It must have been the gentleman I saw calling for his horse.’ Tilda nodded her head. ‘He was quite handsome, with dark hair and blue eyes…’

‘Yes, I dare say that was him,’ Arabella agreed and wrinkled her smooth brow in a frown. This was getting her nowhere! She decided to forget her brief encounter with Mr Hunter. Whatever his problem might be, it was none of her business. She turned as the landlord’s wife came bustling into the parlour with her tray.

‘There’s some nice tomato soup, my lady, and the bread is fresh made this morning—and there’s some fine ham and pickles for after if you should wish for it.’

‘Thank you,’ Arabella, said. ‘We shall have the ham and a glass of your best wine, ma’am, if you please.’ She nodded her approval of the soup, which smelled delicious. ‘And you will let us know as soon as the carriage is repaired?’

‘Yes, of course,’ the woman promised and went off, leaving them to enjoy their soup, which tasted as good as it smelled.

It was late afternoon when Arabella came out of the inn to find her carriage repaired and waiting. She paused for a moment and then gestured to her maid, who had been attending to something in the baggage coach.

‘We are almost ready to leave, Iris. Please make sure that we have my small trunk with us. If we should suffer another accident, I may need it tonight.’

‘Yes, my lady, of course. I’ll attend to it immediately.’

Arabella stopped to speak to her coachman and one of the grooms who was attending to the horses, discussing a change in plans for that night. Because of the delay, it was possible that they might not reach their planned destination. As she did so, a curricle drove into the inn yard and a man got down. He was dressed in the manner of a dandy—his travelling cloak had six capes, and his cravat was ridiculously high and fussy, especially for a journey into the country.

Arabella tensed as the man threw the reins to his tiger and walked towards the inn. For a moment she wished that she might avoid meeting him, for he was a gentleman she knew and did not much like, but pride came to her rescue. She had no reason to feel embarrassed. Sir Courtney Welch had asked her to marry him a year after Ben’s death. Still raw with grief, she had refused him as politely as she could, but he had taken offence and had later accosted her in a drunken fit. His disgusting behaviour had been one of the reasons she had decided never to marry again. She would rather remain unwed than make the mistake of marrying someone she discovered later that she could not like.

‘Madam,’ he said, bowing to her in an exaggerated manner that was almost an insult. ‘Alas, it seems that you are always leaving when I arrive.’

He could not have failed to notice that Arabella avoided his company whenever possible, but she had always preferred to avoid confrontation with him. She was relieved when Tilda spoke to her, unwittingly saving her from having to reply to his false gallantry.

‘They were much quicker mending the wheel than the landlord thought,’ Tilda observed as she touched Arabella’s arm. ‘But we should go, my dear, it will be dark before we reach Richmond.’

‘Yes, I imagine it will,’ Arabella agreed and allowed herself to be directed towards the carriage. She did not look back at the man she disliked. Had she done so, she would have seen that he was staring after her, his face stark with anger. ‘I had hoped to arrive earlier, but it cannot be helped. I am not sure we shall manage to complete our journey tonight.’ Because the day was overcast it was already darker than she had thought possible for the hour.

‘But we are well protected, Tilda. You need not fear highwaymen. My grooms are all armed and we have several of them. I believe those that make their living from waylaying unwary travellers are more likely to attack unaccompanied carriages.’

‘Yes, I am sure you are right,’ Tilda said, but cast an anxious look from the window of their carriage as if she feared that they might be attacked at any moment. ‘But I shall be glad when we reach London and your aunt’s house. Inns are never so comfortable as one’s own bed.’

Arabella smiled, for she knew that Tilda was of a nervous disposition. She believed herself more than a match for any highwayman and carried a small pistol inside her velvet muff. She did not mention this to her companion—it would only distress her more—but she was glad of it as the light began to fade and the sky grew darker.

They had been travelling for more than an hour and a half when she heard a shout from the driving box and the carriage drew to a sudden halt, shuddering as Arabella and Tilda were both thrown forward. Tilda gave a little cry of fright and looked at her in alarm.

‘Oh, what is it? Do you think a highwayman…?’

Arabella shook her head, but her fingers sought and found the pistol. She would use it if need be! She turned her head as one of the grooms came to open the door of the carriage.

‘What is the matter, Williams?’

‘There is a man lying on the ground just ahead of us, my lady,’ the groom said. ‘I think he has had an accident. It looks as if his horse stumbled and he must have fallen. The horse is nearby and seems to be lame.’

‘Is the man badly hurt?’ Arabella asked, preparing to get down from the carriage.

‘Do be careful,’ Tilda warned. ‘It might be a trap…’

‘No, I do not think so.’

Arabella had seen the figure lying on the ground now. He was not moving at all and she thought it must have been a serious accident. The cause was obvious. A rope had been tied to a tree and then pulled tight across the road so that his horse stumbled. In the fading light the rider would not have seen the sinister device until it was too late.

‘What foul deed has taken place here?’ she asked of her coachman. ‘This must have been deliberate.’

‘The intention was to rob him, my lady. We saw a ruffian make off through the woods as we approached. Had we not arrived so opportunely, it might have ended in murder.’

‘How wicked!’ Arabella shivered and looked about her. It was a lonely spot with thick woods on either side of the road. Just the kind of place that a rogue might lie in wait for the opportunity to attack a lone traveller. She moved closer to the man lying on the ground, catching her breath as she saw his face clearly for the first time. It was Charles Hunter! ‘Is he dead?’ she asked the groom, suddenly anxious.

Williams dropped to his knees, making a swift assessment. He looked up at her, shaking his head. ‘He has been knocked senseless, my lady. There is a nasty blow to the side of his head, but he still has a pulse.’

‘We must take him up with us,’ Arabella said, making her decision at once. ‘If we leave him here, he will almost certainly die, of his injury if not further attack. Be very careful as you lift him, Williams. We shall go immediately to the nearest inn and summon a doctor. He must be examined and treated as soon as possible.’

She watched anxiously as three of her servants combined to lift the unconscious man into the carriage. Climbing in herself unaided, she instructed them to lay his head on her lap so that she might support him.

‘Should you be taking up a stranger like this?’ Tilda asked, giving her a doubtful look. ‘You do not know who he may be. He could be anyone—a thief or a murderer.’

Arabella bit back the sharp retort that leapt to mind. For some reason she was reluctant to tell her cousin that she believed she knew the gentleman’s identity.

‘I do not imagine we are in any danger from him at the moment. It is surely our Christian duty to help him, Tilda. If we left him lying there, we should be heartless creatures indeed.’

‘Yes, that is very true,’ Tilda said, looking slightly ashamed. ‘You are always such a charitable person, Arabella. You put me to the blush.’

‘I know you were only thinking of me,’ Arabella replied.

‘But he is obviously a gentleman and we must help him. Instead of trying for Richmond this evening, we shall go to the nearest inn and take rooms there. A doctor must examine this poor man as quickly as possible.’

‘Yes, of course you are right,’ Tilda agreed, but still looked doubtful. She had not yet become reconciled to her cousin’s habit of taking life in her stride. To her way of thinking, Arabella seemed reckless, a very confident young woman who had no one to guide her. She was still young and, being both beautiful and wealthy, might fall prey to fortune hunters, for she had no male relative to guard or protect her—other than her cousin Ralph, whom she disliked.

‘Do not look so anxious,’ Arabella said, guessing at a part of what Tilda was thinking. Her cousin was of a timid, nervous disposition, but she had tried hard to be a comfort to Arabella during her period of mourning, and it would be unkind to find her constant anxiety a little tedious. ‘I assure you there is no need. This poor man cannot harm us. He is far too ill.’

Tilda sighed deeply. However, she knew that she could not turn Arabella once her mind was set. ‘I am perhaps being foolish, as I so often am, my dear. You will do as you think right, Arabella.’

Arabella sensed that her companion was slightly peeved. She normally made a show of listening to Tilda’s advice out of politeness, though she rarely followed it, but in this instance she found it irritating.

‘Ben always told me to throw my heart over the fences,’ she said. ‘He would have done exactly as I have.’

‘Dear Ben, such a gentle, kind man,’ Tilda said and took a kerchief from her reticule. ‘Such a pity…’ She faltered as she saw the look in Arabella’s eyes, knowing that she was treading on thin ice. ‘Forgive me. I did not mean to distress you, my dear.’

‘You have not. Ben was strong and fearless—but, yes, he was also kind and gentle at times.’ Arabella smiled a little sadly. Sometimes now she was able to think of her husband without feeling the terrible sweeping grief that had almost destroyed her immediately after the news of Ben’s death. She had wanted to die then, had stood by the edge of the deep lake on her husband’s estate, contemplating suicide. She did not know to this day what had made her turn away, for she had found no joy in living. ‘If we do not speak of him, he is lost, as if he had never been.’

Arabella felt a sharp pang of regret. How often she had wished that she had conceived during their brief honeymoon. Just one precious week to remember for the rest of her life, before Ben left to join his regiment. His child would have been a tiny piece of him to love, to fill her life and keep her from feeling lonely, as she sometimes did, but that joy had been denied her.

‘You are so brave, Arabella.’ Tilda dabbed at her eyes. ‘I am sure you are a shining example for any young woman. To have suffered so much so young.’

Arabella was able to ignore her remarks and the pity in her tone, for she saw they were approaching an inn. It had a low sloping thatched roof, white, limewashed walls and small windows. At first glance, it looked respectable for a small country inn, and she was pleased because they had reached it much sooner than she had expected.

The next several minutes were taken up by securing rooms and overseeing the transfer of their patient to one of the host’s best chambers. A doctor was duly sent for, arriving within a short time. Arabella spoke to him a little later as he came downstairs after examining his patient.

‘How is he?’ she asked. ‘Please tell me that he is not going to die, sir.’

‘It is much too soon to be sure, ma’am,’ he replied gravely.

‘The wound to his head does not seem severe, but one can never tell with these causes. I believe much will depend upon his being nursed by a woman of sense. Your husband should recover in time, ma’am, but at the moment I cannot say it is certain.’

It was on the tip of Arabella’s tongue to reply that his patient was not her husband, but something held her silent. Since it seemed that she must care for him herself it might be better to allow both him and the landlord to believe that she was Mr Hunter’s wife.

‘Thank you. What must I do to help him, sir?’

‘Just watch over him carefully in these first hours. He may be violent or startled when he comes to his senses and you may need to restrain him from harming himself or others. I have seen men fight those that have cared for them in a kind of madness that comes from brain fever—but these cases are all different and you must use your own good sense. If you need me, please do not hesitate to send word.’

‘You think he should remain here for the time being?’ Arabella frowned she knew that her aunt was expecting her in Hanover Square the following day.

‘Oh, yes, certainly. It would be most harmful to move him until he has recovered his senses. He needs rest and care, ma’am—rest and care.’

‘I see. Thank you,’ Arabella said. She was thoughtful as the doctor left the inn parlour, looking about her. It was a comfortable room; quite small, but clean and respectable. She could have fared worse in an unknown inn. If her stay here were to be extended for a few days, she would need to speak to the landlord’s wife—and to Tilda. Firstly, she would reserve the rooms she needed and then break the news to her companion.

‘You cannot mean it,’ Tilda said and looked at her in horror. ‘I do not understand, Arabella—why should you allow anyone to believe you are married to that man?’

‘I am determined to nurse him,’ Arabella told her. ‘I cannot abandon him to his fate, and it is better that others should believe him my husband.’

‘But why should you run such a risk for a stranger? You could leave your maid here to care for him if you must do something, and to my mind you have already done more than necessary. Iris is a sensible girl. She could nurse him and then join us in town. It is quite impossible for us to stay here, Arabella. There simply aren’t enough rooms for all of us. I have been told that I must either share a bedchamber with Iris or you, my dear.’

‘You will share my room for one night, of course,’ Arabella said. ‘That is why I propose that you should go on to London in the morning, Tilda. You may explain that I have been delayed—though you may not tell Aunt Hester why. Just say that I have been called to the bedside of a sick friend and will come to her in a few days.’

‘No! Certainly not! You cannot think that I would desert you? If you are determined to stay, I shall remain to assist you in whatever you intend.’ Tilda’s feathers were seriously ruffled and she looked indignant, though prepared to do her duty.

‘I knew that you would wish to help me,’ Arabella said and bestowed a warm smile on her. ‘But Iris will be here to keep me company. Aunt Hester will worry if I do not arrive on time. Please oblige me in this, Tilda, for I am quite determined on it.’ The expression in her eyes belied the smile and warned that she would not be thwarted.

Tilda opened her mouth to protest and then closed it. She was well aware that she could not dictate to Arabella. She was dependent on her charity and did not wish to risk a breach with her.

‘But think of your reputation, my dear.’ The cry was plaintive, for she had little hope of being listened to. ‘If people should hear of you staying at an inn alone…and nursing a gentleman you do not know. And that you masqueraded as his wife!’

Arabella smiled in amusement. ‘Remember that I am four and twenty, Tilda. I am not an innocent girl—I have been married. Besides, this inn is so quiet that it is not likely to be patronised by the ton. No one who knows me will visit—so no one need ever know. I suppose I may rely on your discretion?’

‘You must know I would never betray you! But why do you wish to do this for a stranger? Why take on this responsibility, Arabella?’

Arabella was silent for a moment. She did not know why she was prepared to abandon her plans for a man she did not know—for, even if he truly was Charles Hunter, she could not claim to know him. Yet he had been one of Ben’s friends and perhaps she was doing this because she had been unable to nurse her husband as he lay dying in a foreign land. She had been haunted by the thought of his dying alone, in pain and calling for her, praying that a kind woman had stooped to comfort in him in his last hours. She could do at least as much for this man.

‘I am not sure that he is a stranger,’ Arabella said, still pensive. ‘I believe we may have met—at my wedding, if memory serves me right. I think he was a friend of Ben’s.’ She was certain of it in her own mind, even though he had not seemed to recognise her at the inn.

‘You did not say earlier.’ Tilda looked at her suspiciously.

‘No, for it was not important. We met only once—and I may be mistaken, but I am willing to take that chance. For Ben’s sake, I cannot abandon him.’ Tears stood in her eyes. ‘I have often prayed that there was someone to care for Ben…’ Her throat was tight and she shook her head. The thought that her husband might have died alone was too painful.

‘I see…’ Tilda did not understand such sentimentality. The expression on her face was plainly one of disbelief and disagreement, but there was really very little she could do to dissuade Arabella. ‘If you are set on this madness, I suppose you must do as you think fit.’

‘Oh, I do not think it so very foolish,’ Arabella reassured her. ‘It will only be for a day or so. Aunt Hester will be happy to see you, Tilda, and I shall join you both quite soon.’

Tilda’s mouth pursed, but she gave up her efforts to change Arabella’s mind. However, when she reached the house in Hanover Square, she would consider whether it was right to confide in Lady Tate.

Her silent disapproval became almost oppressive when Arabella left her three times during the evening to visit the patient’s bedchamber. Iris had taken it upon herself to sit with him at her mistress’s request, but to Tilda’s mind it seemed that nothing would do for Arabella but to sit with him herself while Iris ate her supper. Had Tilda known that Arabella crept out from the bedchamber they shared that night to relieve Iris from her vigil, she would have been most distressed. Fortunately, she was a heavy sleeper and remained in ignorance.

However, Iris looked relieved when her mistress entered the sick room. It was now the early hours of the morning and Iris had been finding it hard to keep awake.

‘Has there been any change, Iris?’

‘No, my lady,’ the maid replied, yawning. She was a plump girl, plain faced but agreeable and devoted to her mistress. ‘He muttered something a while ago—a girl’s name, I think—but he hasn’t woken.’

‘Go and rest now,’ Arabella told her. ‘We may have to nurse him for some days and nights. We shall both need our sleep.’

‘Are you sure, my lady? Mrs Blackstone said that she would help us and she seems a good woman.’

‘I imagine she has enough to do looking after her customers, Iris. I shall sit with the gentleman for the time being. You may return in the morning.’

‘Poor gentleman,’ Iris said. ‘He has a handsome face, my lady, but he looks gaunt, as though he has been ill—before this, I mean. When the doctor undressed him, he discovered that he had a wound to his thigh. It seemed to have recovered, but the scarring was fresh. There were other wounds on his body, and the doctor thought he might have been a soldier.’

‘Yes, I dare say he may have been. I thought that he had suffered recently,’ Arabella said. Her thoughtful eyes moved to the man in the bed. ‘I believe he may have suffered a great deal, Iris. I saw him briefly earlier today and remarked it. You see, I think I may know him. He was a friend of my husband’s.’

‘Did he come for your wedding, my lady? I did wonder if I had seen him before, though I do not know his name.’

‘Mr Charles Hunter, if I am right. For the moment it is best if we do not speak of him by his name. It will be easier if Mrs Blackstone continues to believe him my husband.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ Iris bobbed a curtsy and went out, leaving Arabella alone with her patient.

Arabella crossed to the bed, bending over him to lay a gentle hand on his brow. He seemed hot and his forehead was damp. Noticing that Iris had left a bowl of water and a cloth by the bed, she wrung the cloth out, laying it on his brow for a moment before gently wiping away the perspiration. However, in a moment or two he was sweating again, and Arabella thought that he seemed feverish.

‘Poor Charles,’ she murmured, feeling strangely drawn to him. She felt that he had experienced some terrible grief quite recently. She had seen it in his face earlier and it touched her, arousing her sympathy. ‘You have suffered much already and it is unkind of Fate to offer you this further blow,’ she said and stroked the damp hair back from his forehead. ‘Rest now, Charles. We shall take care of you.’

He was so hot! She must do something to cool him.

Arabella removed one of the heavy quilts, and then, on impulse, pulled back the sheets. His body was damp with sweat and she could feel the heat coming from him. She took the cloth Iris had been using to bathe his forehead, wringing it out in the water again and beginning to sponge his arms, chest and then his legs. She would have bathed his back, but was not sure she could turn him alone. But perhaps it would not be necessary, for at last he seemed easier. He sighed and murmured something that might have been a name, but too softly for her to hear.

For a while after she had bathed his heated body he seemed to rest more comfortably, but after an hour or so he became hot again, throwing his arms and legs about as if he were in distress. His head moved restlessly on the pillow and Arabella soothed him as best she could, whispering words of reassurance and stroking his hair. Pity wrenched at her heart, and she felt a flicker of tenderness stir inside her. He looked so vulnerable, so needy as he lay there tossing in his fever, that she longed to comfort him. Suddenly, his eyes opened wide and he stared at her.

‘Sarah,’ he croaked. ‘Thank God I have found you, my dear one. Forgive me, I beg you. Forgive me…’

‘Charles…’ Arabella said, but his eyes had closed and she knew that he had fallen back into the unconscious state in which she had found him. ‘Please do not die. I do not want you to die.’

Arabella did not know why his survival was so important to her. It could only be that she was transferring her longing to help Ben to his friend, almost as though by saving Charles Hunter she could atone for not being able to save her beloved husband.

‘You must get well,’ she whispered and stroked his forehead. ‘I shall stay with you until you are able to fend for yourself, Charles. I promise that I shall not desert you.’

‘Are you sure you will not give up this nonsense and come with me?’ Tilda asked the next morning. ‘I do not like to leave you here like this, Arabella—and without your carriage. I could travel in the baggage coach…’

‘No, indeed, I shall not put you to such torture,’ Arabella said, a smile on her lips. Her companion was not the best of travellers at any time. ‘Both vehicles may travel with you—I need only my small trunk here. My baggage may as well go with you, and the coachman will come back for me in a day or so after the horses are rested. There is no reason for you to worry at all, Tilda. I shall be quite comfortable.’

Tilda was doubtful and had to be coaxed into the carriage, but at last it was accomplished and Arabella sighed her relief. She tried not to think it, for she did not wish to be unkind, but she would be much happier here alone. Her companion’s fretting had begun to seem tedious after two days’ travelling. She felt relieved that for a short time she need not consider anyone but her patient and herself.

Going upstairs to her own chamber, she tidied her hair and smoothed the skirts of her serviceable gown. She had chosen one of her oldest, which was normally kept for working in her stillroom. She preferred not to dress too richly while staying at the inn, for she had now realised that she and Mr Hunter were not the only guests. She had seen another gentleman as she came downstairs that morning. By his dress he was a countryman, perhaps a merchant or a farmer of ample means, for though well turned out he did not aspire to fashion. Arabella was glad that she had allowed her hosts to believe Charles was her husband. She would not care to be thought fast in any way, which she might have had they known that she was regularly visiting the bedchamber of a stranger.

Entering Charles’s room a little later, she saw that Iris was bending over him, trying to give him a little water from a pewter cup, and he seemed to be fighting her. When she went closer, Arabella realised that he was once again in the grip of a fever.

‘What are you giving him?’ she asked because she could see now that the cup contained more than water.

‘The doctor has been again and he left a powder to be mixed with water and administered every few hours. As you can see, my lady, the gentleman is much worse this morning than he was last night.’

‘Yes, he is,’ Arabella said and laid a hand on his forehead. ‘He is burning up, Iris. We must do something to help him. I think we should bathe him. Strip back the bedcovers while I bring fresh water.’

She went over to the washstand and poured water from the jug into a bowl, bringing it back to the bedside as Iris folded back the heavy cover. Charles was naked and the girl blushed—she had only ever seen one naked man before and that was her young brother. She placed a towel over his private parts, turning to wring out her cloth and recover her composure. Arabella came to join her, a little amused that the girl had thought fit to protect his modesty. She had felt no shame in looking at his body, finding it beautiful. He had strong firm legs, and was well formed without the slightest hint of anything to spoil the perfection.

‘We shall do it together, Iris. You bathe that arm and I shall do this one. That way we can hold him more easily if he fights us.’

‘He seems quieter now,’ Iris pointed out. ‘I think it was the sound of your voice. He kept trying to push me away, but he settled when you touched him.’

‘Yes, he has,’ Arabella agreed. ‘I think he mistook me for someone he cares for last night. He woke for a moment, though I do not think he knew what he said, because in seconds he had gone back into his unconscious state. The fever had not gripped him so much then, but we shall do what we can ourselves to care for him; then, if he is no better in an hour or so, I shall send for the doctor again.’

They carefully bathed most of his body in the cool water, turning him one way and then the other. Arabella stroked the red marks on his thigh where he had been wounded previously, thinking that the flesh still looked sore. She had some healing creams in her baggage, and instructed Iris to fetch the pots for her once they had dried his skin. While the girl was gone, Arabella stroked his forehead, speaking him to him tenderly. It was true that the sound of her voice did soothe him. He was not quite as hot now, and, when Iris returned, she smoothed a little cream into his thigh, massaging it for some minutes before drawing the covers over him again. Then she applied the ointment to the wound at the side of his head. He had received a nasty cut, but it was not deep and she thought it would soon heal.

‘There, I think he will do for the time being,’ she said. ‘I shall go and have my breakfast now, and you can have yours in half an hour. I shall order it made ready for you, Iris.’

Glancing at the man in the bed once more before she left, Arabella was aware of a warm glow inside her. He was resting now. Their nursing had certainly helped him. It might be only a temporary respite, but it could be a turning point. She prayed that it might be so.

When Iris came down to partake of her meal, Arabella went back to the sick room. She sat by the bedside for more than an hour and then went to fetch a book from her own room. Charles Hunter was sleeping peacefully and she would be better with something to do for a while.

After another hour, Iris came to take her place as they had agreed. Arabella went out for a walk, feeling the need for a little air. The inn was quite warm and rather stuffy as it had only small windows. She felt pleased with their patient’s progress, for he seemed to be throwing the fever off. However, when she returned, Iris told her that he had begun to sweat heavily and throw the bedcovers off once more.

Arabella resorted to the same remedy as before, and once again he quietened under her hand. She was a little concerned and sent Iris to ask the landlord to send for the doctor again.

When he visited later that morning, the doctor declared himself satisfied with the patient’s progress.

‘You must expect a little fever,’ he said. ‘I warned you that he might be violent, for brain fever can be dangerous, though you seem to be nursing him very well, Lady Arabella. I had expected your husband to be in a worse case than this. Continue to give him the powders I left you and I am sure all will be well.’

Arabella thanked him, forbearing to tell him that her patient had not taken much of the doctor’s remedy. She walked downstairs with him to the parlour where she took her midday meal alone. There was no sign of the country gentleman she had seen earlier and she was pleased that the inn seemed not to get too many visitors. It was as she was preparing to go back upstairs once more that Mrs Blackstone came up to her with a smile.

‘Your husband is much better, Lady Arabella. He woke a few moments ago when I went in with some more water. He asked me where he was and I told him that he was staying at the Fox and Hounds in Thornborough, and that his wife was caring for him. He seemed a little mazed, my lady, but I am sure that is only to be expected in the circumstances. The poor man said he had no wife, but he will remember when he sees you.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Arabella said and went hastily up the stairs. It was little wonder if Charles Hunter felt confused by being told his wife was caring for him! She entered the bedchamber and found Iris wrestling with him as she tried to keep him from leaving his bed.

‘You must not, sir,’ Arabella said and crossed to the bedside. ‘You have been ill and I think you should stay in bed for a little longer.’

‘And who the hell are you?’ he demanded, looking angry. ‘Are you the designing wench who has been masquerading as my wife? I have no wife and if you hope to force me into proposing because you have compromised yourself, let me tell you that you are much mistaken. I have no intention of taking a wife—and certainly not a female I have never met before in my life!’

‘Thank you, Iris, you may go,’ Arabella said. She fixed a cool stare on Charles, lifting her head proudly. Now she became the lady of the manor, wealth and power at her back. ‘You are the one who is mistaken, sir. I found you lying on the road and in a parlous state. Had I not taken you up in my carriage, you might have died. Indeed, the rogue who attacked you might have returned to finish his work.’

‘Was I attacked?’ Charles stared at her, his eyes narrowing. Something about her voice was very attractive. He found it soothing, despite his shock at the discovery that he was supposed to have a wife. ‘Who are you, ma’am—and why does the innkeeper’s wife imagine I am your husband?’

‘Because I was determined to nurse you,’ Arabella told him calmly. ‘It seemed easier to allow that good lady to think us married, but I assure you that you stand in no danger of being coerced into offering for me. I have no intention of marrying again—and, I assure you, nothing would make me marry you, sir.’

Charles stared at her for a few seconds, a frown on his face. ‘You are a widow?’

‘Yes, that is so,’ she replied. ‘I had thought you might know me, Mr Hunter, but it seems that you have forgot me.’

‘Have we met?’

‘Once—at my wedding. I am Lady Arabella Marshall. My late husband was then your good friend. It was for his sake that I have done what I have. I always prayed that someone nursed Ben when he was dying and thought it my duty to help you.’

‘Good grief,’ Charles said and gave a little moan of anguish. He lay back against the pillows, closing his eyes for a moment. ‘Forgive me. My head aches like the very devil and I thought…I have been damnably rude!’

‘Yes, you have,’ she said and smiled a little wryly. ‘However, the doctor told me that you might be violent or abusive. Indeed, I was prepared for much worse. Forgive me for taking a liberty concerning my relationship with yourself, Mr Hunter—but it did seem the best way at the time. I could hardly have cared for you as I have if I’d confessed that you were a stranger to me. I am four and twenty, no longer a green girl, but I do not think it would have been thought proper even so.’

He opened his eyes and looked at her again, a wry expression on his lips. ‘I am a fool. I tend to think the worst of people these days. Of course I remember Ben’s wife. I am sorry for not having known you—and even more sorry that Ben died. It was a terrible thing to happen so soon after you were wed.’

‘Yes, it was,’ Arabella agreed, her eyes shadowed with sadness. ‘Now, sir, may I have something brought for you? A little nourishing broth or some wine?’

‘I detest nourishing broth,’ Charles said with a grimace. ‘I will eat some bread and cold meat—and a glass of wine if you please.’

‘I think a little brandy might be restorative,’ Arabella said. ‘But not the meat and bread just yet. I shall ask Mrs Blackstone if she will cook a coddled egg for you.’ She laughed as he pulled a face. ‘Yes, I know what you will think of that, sir—but red meat might not suit you for the moment.’

‘Do you think it might make me violent? I promise I shall not attack you, ma’am.’

‘I have no fear of it,’ Arabella laughed huskily. Her eyes lit up and in that moment she was very beautiful. ‘You may have a little chicken this evening if you do not relapse into the fever again. Please, for my peace of mind, be sensible, sir.’

‘Only if you call me Charles,’ he said, looking rueful. ‘We should be friends—if Ben had lived we would have known each other well. Besides, it would look odd if you called me sir in front of our good hostess. She will think me quite mad for not knowing I had a wife.’

‘Just a little mazed, understandably so after the blow to your head,’ Arabella told him. ‘Lie still and rest, Charles. I shall order your meal and then perhaps you will sleep again.’

Smiling at him, she went out, leaving Charles to rest against the pillows and remember the soft voice and hands that had soothed him in his fever…had done things for him, intimate things that he could not possibly have expected of her. Yet perhaps it had been her maid. He had thought she was Sarah…a swift slash of pain cut through him as he remembered that his sister was still lost.

As soon as he was able he must continue his search for her, but he would say nothing to Lady Arabella. She had been generous to him despite her own troubles. It would not do to lay his burdens on her when she could know nothing of the matter.

Chapter Two

‘I think I shall get up this morning,’ Charles said, smiling as Arabella entered his room the following day. She had brought his breakfast tray and he felt a new hunger as he saw that he was at last being allowed cold beef, bread and butter as well as a tankard of ale. ‘Thank you. I shall enjoy this food, ma’am.’

‘You asked me to call you Charles,’ she reminded him. ‘It would please me if you were to call me by my name.’

‘You have been both generous and kind,’ Charles said, a strange wintry expression in his eyes. ‘I am grateful for all your attentions, Lady Arabella—but I believe you should cease to wait on me in this manner. I am much recovered now and it is not fitting that an unmarried lady should visit the bedchamber of a man she scarcely knows.’

‘I have been married, sir. I am not a stranger to such things.’

‘Married for a week, I understand?’ Charles saw her flinch and immediately cursed himself for his clumsiness. ‘Forgive me. I should not have said that, Arabella—but I am concerned for your reputation.’

‘You shall not be asked to rescue it,’ Arabella replied in a sharp tone—she was hurt that he should speak to her in that way. She had thought they were well on the way to becoming friends. She lifted her head proudly, becoming the lady of consequence she truly was as the mistress of a large manor. ‘But if you feel able to care for yourself now I shall not press my attentions on you, sir. My carriage has returned for me this morning and I shall continue my journey to London. I have already been delayed and I dare say my friends are anxious for me by now.’

‘I have offended you,’ Charles said, regretting that he had spoken harshly. ‘That was not my intention. I am truly grateful for all you have done. Indeed, I may owe my life to you.’

‘Think nothing of it,’ she replied, her manner becoming even more reserved, cool to the point of iciness. ‘I would do the same for any man—and you were a friend of Ben’s. I shall bid you good morning, sir. I trust you may complete your journey without further accident. I should take care if I were you. It was only good fortune that you were not killed. I do not know if you have an enemy, but that rope across the road was meant to bring you down.’

‘Me or any unwary traveller, I dare say,’ Charles said, frowning. ‘But I shall heed your warning, Lady Arabella. I should not have been so easily caught had I been less wrapped up in my own thoughts.’

Arabella nodded, but made no further reply. He seemed to be a man of moods for he was never the same twice, swinging from a smiling, good-natured gentleman to a harsh, reserved stranger. She left him to his breakfast and went downstairs, seeking out the landlady to pay the reckoning for their rooms and to tell her that they were leaving. Her grooms had informed her that Charles had been robbed and he obviously could not pay for anything himself. Arabella gave the landlady a few coins extra to pay for his keep should he need to stay on a little longer.

‘I have an appointment in London,’ she said to excuse the odd circumstance of her leaving alone. ‘Charles will follow at his convenience. I have to thank you for taking us in. I hope we have not been too much of a nuisance.’

‘Oh, no, my lady,’ the woman said and bobbed a curtsy. ‘It was a pleasure to have you.’

Within an hour Arabella was sitting in her carriage and ready to leave for her aunt’s house in town. Glancing from the window, she saw that Charles Hunter had come out from the inn as they were about to drive off. He stood for a moment in the sunshine and appeared to be looking for someone, but Arabella told her driver to move on. They could have nothing to say to one another. Should they meet in town, she would greet him as a stranger. She had already decided to put this interlude from her mind. She had helped a man who had been her husband’s friend and that was an end to it—and yet she had an odd feeling of having lost something as she was driven away.

Charles saw the carriage leaving. Had he come down a few minutes earlier he might have spoken to her again, apologised for his coolness that morning. He was aware that he had much to thank her for and she did not deserve to be treated so harshly. Yet he could not allow himself to like her too much. His life must be dedicated to finding Sarah. The guilt and fear nagged at him, mingling with the anger. Sarah was all that mattered now. Besides, he knew that he was incapable of loving a woman—especially one as beautiful and warm as Lady Arabella. She deserved passion and spirit, not the broken shell of the man he had become.

It was better that she had gone without time for another meeting between them. The memory of soft hands and sweet words soothing him would pass. He would not allow himself to remember how comforted she had made him feel—or the hurt look in her eyes when he had told her that he no longer needed her help.

‘Arabella dearest! I was beginning to worry about you,’ Lady Hester Tate said as her niece walked into the elegant parlour of her London house that afternoon. ‘Tilda has been fretting—she did not like to leave you alone with only your maid to protect you.’

Arabella’s laughter was warm and delightful. ‘I do hope she did not upset you, Aunt Hester? I assure you I was perfectly safe.’

‘She seemed to think you were in some mortal danger, though she would not tell me exactly what,’ Lady Tate said and frowned. ‘I do not know how you put up with her, my dear. She is such a fusspot.’

‘Yes, she is rather,’ Arabella said, smothering a sigh. ‘But she has so little to live on, Aunt. I should feel awful if I told her I did not need her any longer—though I must admit that she tries my patience at times. Where is she at this moment?’

‘Oh, I sent her on an errand,’ Lady Tate said, pulling a little face. ‘She is useful in many ways, Arabella. I had some packages that needed to be delivered to a friend—and my library book had to be returned. I could have sent a servant with the packages, of course, but Tilda likes to feel helpful.’

‘Yes, she does,’ Arabella said. She bent to kiss her aunt’s cheek. Lady Tate was a small, slightly plump lady who had once been considered a great beauty but was now showing signs of fragility, her skin papery soft. ‘How are you? When you wrote to me last, you had had a chill, I think?’

‘Oh, I am much recovered,’ her aunt said, her eyes avoiding looking directly at Arabella. ‘I am well enough in myself—but Ralph worries me. He has been behaving oddly recently and I think he may be in debt again. He is such a terrible gambler. Takes after his father, of course, and never listens to anything I say.’ Lady Tate’s expression was a mixture of anxiety and annoyance. ‘Goodness knows what he does with his own money!’

‘I am sorry to hear that he has made you anxious,’ Arabella said. ‘He really should learn to stay away from the card tables. He cannot expect you to rescue him from his folly again.’

‘No, indeed, I have told him that I can give him no more than a hundred guineas,’ Lady Tate said. ‘He says it is not enough, but I cannot spare more, Arabella. I have my jointure and a few jewels my father bought me—but he has sold the Tate heirlooms himself.’

‘Oh, no, has he?’ Arabella felt a slight unease. ‘That was not well done of Ralph, Aunt. Do you know if he has run up claims on the Northampton estate?’

‘I would not care if he has,’ her aunt replied. ‘I hate Tatton Court. It is an awful old place and would cost a fortune to make it comfortable. So he may gamble that away if he pleases—but I have told him that Haverhill House is not his to hazard. It belonged to my family and remains mine until I die. I have made a will passing it to my grandchildren, Arabella. Failing them, it will come to you, my dear. Ralph does not know that, but I have instructed my lawyers that he is not to have the right to sell it. He would not like it if he knew, but he would lose everything we have if I did not take some precautions.’

‘Yes, I see.’ Arabella thought that her cousin would be furious if he knew what his mother had done, but kept her own counsel. Aunt Hester might complain of her son sometimes, but she thought the world of him and would not like to be told the harsh truth, which was that Sir Ralph Tate cared for nothing but himself. ‘Well, you must do as you think best, dearest. Now tell me, do we dine alone this evening?’

‘As it happens we have an engagement. I left your first two evenings free, Arabella, so that we might be comfortable together, but you did not come when I expected you, and we are engaged this evening to a great friend of mine—Lady Samson. She is to give a little musical affair, my dear. Nothing exciting, but you know how it is. Most of the ton have gone to the country or Brighton for the summer.’ She glanced at her niece. ‘I could go alone this evening if you are too tired?’

‘I am not in the least tired,’ Arabella said. ‘A musical evening will be very pleasant. I shall enjoy it, I am sure.’

‘Yes, well, I think you will. Lady Samson’s niece Melinda is in town for a visit and I seem to recall that you rather like her?’

‘Yes, I do. It will be pleasant to see Melinda again. I have not seen her since her wedding last year.’

‘When dear Sammy told me she was here I thought it was the very thing. It was kind of you to visit me, Arabella, but I shan’t keep you tied to my apron strings. You are still young and you need young company. I believe Melinda’s brother-in-law is in town too. Captain Hernshaw is a very pleasant gentleman. I believe he has just resigned his commission in favour of a political position. Do you happen to know him at all?’

Arabella glanced at her aunt suspiciously. She was wearing an innocent face, but she was well aware that Lady Tate thought that it was time Arabella married again. Indeed, most of her friends had hinted as much, but Arabella had ignored the subtle pressure from those she believed meant well. She had known true love and would not settle for less. Since she thought it unlikely that she would ever find another man who would make her thrill to his smiles as Ben had, she had put all thought of marriage from her mind. Besides, loving made one vulnerable and she had suffered dreadfully after Ben was killed. She did not wish to be hurt that way ever again.

‘I believe we may have met at Melinda’s wedding,’ she said in answer to her aunt’s question. ‘But I cannot say that I know him.’

‘I imagine he may put in an appearance this evening,’ Lady Tate said and wrinkled her brow. ‘Though you can never be sure what a gentleman will do—they are such inconstant creatures, are they not?’

‘Perhaps,’ Arabella agreed. ‘Some gentlemen are changeable, I believe.’ For a moment her thoughts returned to the man she had left behind at the inn earlier that day. Charles Hunter was a man of moods, but she believed that he had some secret sorrow that preyed upon his mind. Something about him had touched her from the moment when he had seemed rude in the first inn’s parlour, and caring for him while he lay ill had made her very aware of tenderness towards him. Not that it was more than she would feel for any man in extremity! But she had been drawn to him. However, he had made his feelings plain and she must put all thought of him aside. Mr Hunter had shown her that he did not wish for her attentions! Should they meet again, he would deserve it if she gave him the cut direct.

Arabella was wearing a deep emerald-green silk gown when she walked into Lady Samson’s large drawing room that evening. It was fashioned in such a way that it seemed to swathe her slender figure in soft folds, causing more than one head to turn and admire it—and her. Around her throat she had clasped a magnificent collar of pearls and diamonds, one of the heirlooms that had come to her as Ben’s widow. He had been the last of his family, and as his estate no longer suffered an entail, his will had left everything to her. Arabella was therefore exceptionally wealthy, having also inherited a small fortune from her father.

Because she was uninterested in what others thought of her, she was quite unaware of causing a stir or of the many admiring looks sent in her direction. The expression in some female eyes was distinctly envious, but in others approval and even warmth was the main emotion roused, particularly in the gentlemen. She was generally liked, but thought to be a little reserved, even cool at times, and though several of the gentlemen had considered making an offer for a woman who was both beautiful and rich, some had hesitated to approach her. It was known that those who had so dared had been summarily rejected. Lady Arabella was a wealthy widow, an independent lady who had no need to take another husband unless she wished. Indeed, because of the marriage laws that would hand everything she owned over to her husband, some of the ladies secretly applauded her and wished that they had the good fortune to be in her shoes.

‘It’s a crying shame,’ Captain Hernshaw murmured naughtily to his young and pretty sister-in-law. ‘So beautiful and all that money. It is surely her duty to marry again—preferably me. I am in need of instant repair to my fortune after my ill luck at the tables last night.’

‘You are a wicked tease, Richard,’ Melinda Hernshaw told him, tapping his arm playfully with her fan. She knew it was all nonsense—he was his maternal uncle’s heir and would inherit a large estate one day. ‘But I wish Belle would fall in love with you. I hate it that she is a widow and unhappy.’

‘Do you think she is terribly unhappy?’ Captain Hernshaw asked, looking at Arabella’s face. ‘She seems to smile quite a lot and is looking very lovely this evening. She put off her blacks for your wedding, didn’t she, Mel?’

‘Yes, she did,’ Melinda said and shot a look of speculation at him. ‘She can’t go on grieving for ever, Richard. Why don’t you try your luck?’

‘Oh, I would if I thought she might listen,’ he replied and grinned. ‘But I don’t want to be frozen out, Mel. Some of the gallants who tried their luck last year say that she is an iceberg, and that one look from her could turn a man into a pillar of salt. Though considering they hadn’t a bean to spare between them, I do not blame her for turning them down. Personally, I admire her for herself, but I shall take things very slowly.’

‘You really like her, don’t you?’

‘She knocked me for six the first time I saw her,’ he admitted with a rueful look. ‘But I dare say I am not the only one. Look at her cousin. Now that I do not like to see. He is a rum cove by all accounts. She ought to be careful of him!’

‘Ralph Tate rarely escorts his mother to affairs of this kind,’ Melinda replied and frowned. ‘Yes, I see what you mean, Richard. He’s like a dog guarding its bone. The way he looks at her—that possessive manner, as if he thinks she belongs to him!’

‘She wouldn’t have him, would she?’

‘I shouldn’t think so. I don’t believe she likes him. Look at the way she shrugged off his hand then. I think she is in some distress, Richard. Pray let us go and rescue her from his attentions.’

‘By Jove, yes,’ Captain Hernshaw agreed eagerly. ‘Can’t have that toad monopolising the most beautiful woman in the room—present company excepted, Mel.’

‘I know Arabella is more beautiful,’ Melinda told him with a smile. ‘Harry says I’m pretty and I am—but Belle is special.’

Captain Hernshaw held his tongue. He was in perfect agreement with his sister-in-law’s summation, and more than a little smitten with the widow, but he did not hold out much hope of her feeling the same. He was not truly in desperate need of a rich wife, for he had expectations. However, he thought it might still be too soon to offer for her and he did not wish to cause her distress. He had seen the deep grief in her eyes when she thought she was unobserved, even though her smile came bursting through like a ray of sunlight when something pleased or amused her. He frowned as he noticed the look on her face when her cousin leaned forward to whisper in her ear. She did not care for such intimacy, that was clear, but she was finding it difficult to keep him at bay.

She raised her head as he and Melinda approached, a smile of welcome on her lips. Hernshaw felt a sudden pounding in his breast, for she was truly lovely and he wished that her smile had been for him rather than his sister-in-law.

‘Melinda dearest,’ Arabella said and moved forward to kiss her friend’s cheek. ‘How are you? You look wonderful.’

‘So do you,’ Melinda replied. ‘Please, Belle, you must come and sit with me. Sir Ralph will spare you to me, will you not, sir?’

‘Arabella was going to sit with me…’ Ralph’s sullen look made him appear even more unattractive. Although tall and well made, he was fleshy of face and his sandy hair was already thinning at the temples. More than that, though, were the marks of indulgence in his complexion, the beads of sweat on his forehead and the faint odour of perspiration that enamated from his person.

‘No, I believe I have not agreed,’ Arabella said. ‘Besides, I do not think you would care for Madame Casciano’s recital, cousin.’

‘Nor I,’ Captain Hernshaw said for he had seen the flash of temper in the other man’s eyes. He was motivated to self-sacrifice for Arabella’s sake. ‘Come and give me a game of billiards, sir. I think we may leave the ladies to themselves until supper.’

Reluctantly, Ralph gave way to the firm pressure on his arm, though he threw a dark look at Arabella as she went off with her friend. He had been trying to force his company on her ever since they left the house, but he could not insist when she had said publicly that she wished to sit with Lady Hernshaw.

‘Very well,’ he said rudely, ‘though I am not much in the mood for it. I shall take myself off in an hour or so. I have better things to do than dance attendance on my mother.’

Captain Hernshaw restrained himself. He would have liked to land a facer on the other man and could have done it easily enough, but was too polite to cause a scene in the house of his sister-in-law’s aunt. However, should the chance arise at a more suitable venue, he would be quite happy to wipe the floor with Ralph Tate!

‘I have been so looking forward to this evening,’ Melinda said, hugging Arabella’s arm. ‘I was not well enough to come up for the Season, but I am here now and I was so pleased to learn that you had decided to visit Lady Tate. We shall be able to shop together and I dare say we shall meet everywhere for my aunt and yours share the same circle of friends.’

‘Yes, I am sure we shall,’ Arabella agreed. ‘I was very pleased when Aunt Hester told me you would be here—and I want to thank you for rescuing me from my cousin.’

‘I thought he was making a nuisance of himself,’ Melinda said with a little smile of amusement. ‘He is a horrid little man, isn’t he? He asked me to marry him once, before Harry proposed, and was most offended when I told him that I would not—as if I would!’ She shuddered. ‘He is awful. I do not know how you can bear him, Belle.’

‘I have to tread carefully,’ Arabella said with a little frown. ‘He is my cousin, after all. I do not wish to offend Aunt Hester, even though I find him difficult at times.’

Melinda smothered her retort. In her opinion it would be much better if Lady Tate knew her son for the odious creature he was. She might then be strong enough to refuse his frequent requests for money.

‘Oh, well,’ she said. ‘I dare say you know how to manage him, Belle. After all, no one can force you to marry him, can they?’

‘I would resist with my last breath,’ Arabella said. ‘I do not believe either he or my aunt can hope for it. I have made it clear that I do not wish to marry again.’

‘Oh, but you should,’ Melinda said, objecting to this instantly. ‘There are lots of nice gentlemen you could choose, Belle. You don’t have to marry Ralph.’

‘I certainly shall not,’ Arabella said and laughed. ‘Enough of me, Mel. Tell me, why are you in town? Is it just to buy some new clothes? I have decided to visit my seamstress while I am here. I do not need so very much, but I think I shall buy some new gowns for the winter.’

‘Oh…’ Melinda looked at her, a faint blush in her cheeks. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘I came to see a doctor…a special one. I miscarried in the summer, you see, and my dear Harry wants to make sure I am quite well again.’

‘I am so sorry,’ Arabella said, instantly sympathetic. She too spoke in hushed tones—it was not something to be discussed too openly in public. ‘What a disappointment for you. I fear it does happen and it may be best to consult a really good doctor. He will be able to advise you concerning the future.’

‘Yes, well, I have, and he says there is no reason I shouldn’t go ahead and try again, so I shall.’ Melinda dimpled mischievously, a note of laughter in her voice now. ‘I wrote to Harry to tell him the news. He is quite pleased with the doctor’s advice, as you may imagine.’

‘Yes, I dare say.’

Melinda hesitated, glancing at her friend curiously. ‘If you do not marry, you will not have children, Belle. Have you thought about that?’

‘Yes. It is a sorrow to me that I did not conceive Ben’s child.’ Her eyes darkened with emotion, her voice low and throbbing.

‘Oh, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘Do not apologise, Mel. I have decided that I must speak about these things. It is true that it still hurts me, but I do not want Ben’s memory to die and sometimes—’ She broke off, shaking her head. There were times now when she could not recall Ben’s face and that frightened her. She had lost him once; she did not want to lose her precious memories.

Their hostess was asking everyone to take their seats. Small sofas and elegant elbow chairs had been arranged about the room to give a clear view of the dais that had been set up for the convenience of the musicians. The evening was to begin with the soprano Madame Casciano’s recital and would continue with pieces from Handel’s Water Music and then everyone’s favourite, Mozart.

Arabella and Melinda settled down on a small sofa, quickly becoming engrossed in the music. Because she seldom attended an evening such as this in the country, Arabella was particularly enjoying herself and it was not until the interval that she sensed someone was staring at her. Looking up, she saw it was her cousin and he was staring in a way that made her feel decidedly uncomfortable. She turned away. She did not care for the calculating expression in his eyes. He had been behaving in an irritating manner from the moment he arrived to escort them here this evening.

‘Shall we go in to supper?’ she asked of her companion as they stood up.

‘Yes, of course.’ Melinda glanced at Sir Ralph and frowned. ‘Oh yes, I see. Poor Belle! If you are not careful, he will spoil your visit. Odious man!’

‘I shall not allow him to spoil anything,’ Arabella said, lifting her head proudly. She linked arms elegantly with her friend and they walked towards the dining room, where a cold supper awaited the guests. ‘I believe I am hungry.’ She gave Ralph a cool nod in passing, determined not to let his presence throw a cloud over her. ‘What shall we do tomorrow, Mel? I have no engagements yet.’

‘Harry is coming up to join me, but he will not arrive until the evening,’ Melinda said and looked happy. ‘I think I should like to go shopping.’

‘Yes, that would be most enjoyable,’ Arabella agreed and gave her arm a squeeze. ‘Oh, look, here is Captain Hernshaw coming to join us.’

He greeted them both warmly and offered to help choose their supper from amongst the array of delicious foods on offer. When he had selected the choicest titbits, he asked one of the circling waiters to carry it all to the table they had found by a window overlooking the gardens. It was a pretty view—small lanterns twinkled amongst the trees, giving them a magical atmosphere.

Arabella was relieved that her cousin made no attempt to join them at supper and even more so when her aunt came to sit with them, telling her that Ralph had taken himself off to meet some friends. She thought that perhaps he had realised that she did not care for his company and would have more pride than to persist with his pursuit of her. She had discovered in the past that a certain reserve of manner was usually enough to deter any but the most thick-skinned fortune hunter.

The remainder of the evening had passed very pleasantly and Arabella was smiling as she prepared for bed that night. She had enjoyed herself a great deal; though she suspected that Melinda would try to promote the interests of her brother-in-law when she could, it did not matter. She found him excellent company, but was not in the least interested in becoming his wife. However, Captain Hernshaw was not the kind of man to push himself forward without encouragement, and, although prepared to be friendly, she had given him no cause to hope.

Getting into bed, Arabella snuffed out her candle. She was tired and thought that she would soon sleep, but as she closed her eyes she found herself thinking of Charles Hunter. It was odd the way he had shut her out so suddenly that morning at the inn. Perhaps there was a secret heartache that made him wish to keep his distance from others—something that had caused those dark shadows beneath his eyes.

‘Well sir, I dunno as there’s much more I can tell you,’ Fred Lightfoot said and looked into his half-empty tankard thoughtfully. ‘As I said to his lordship, I knew there was summat going on in the woods that night. It had happened afore, see—but there were summat different about it that time. Sir Montague were a rum cove, if you ask me. A lot of them girls what they had up there were whores and it were just a bit of a lark, no real harm done—but the girl I found wandering mazed was gentlefolk. I knew it as soon as I saw her and that’s why I took her to a safe place I knew of. She didn’t seem to understand what was happening to her and I couldn’t look after a girl like that, sir. Like a frightened child she was, whimpering and shrinking from my touch, even though I told her I would not hurt her. So I went off to fetch my Mary and—’

‘When you returned she had disappeared.’ Charles frowned at him. He seemed honest and clearly Daniel trusted him. ‘Could Forsythe have come and taken her away?’

‘I doubt it, sir,’ Fred said and shook his head. ‘That cottage belongs to me now my grandfather’s dead and Sir Montague knew nothing of it. I intended to do it up for me and Mary when I got the time, but I’m going to sell it now we’ve got this place with the Earl of Cavendish.’ He scratched his head. ‘I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you. It ain’t much, I know—but that girl what drowned herself, she were a village lass. And that’s all I know, sir.’

‘I was hoping for more,’ Charles said and frowned. ‘Can you recall what she looked like—the girl you helped?’

‘Yes, sir. Lingered in my mind she has, because I felt I should have done more. A pretty girl, sir, with soft fair hair hanging halfway down her back and eyes that were more green than blue…and I noticed a little mark on her left temple. It might have been a scar or a birthmark, I can’t rightly be sure.’

Charles sat forward, touching his left temple with his forefinger. ‘Sarah had a scar there. She hit her head when playing in the nursery once. My mother dismissed the nurse who allowed it, though it was not truly the woman’s fault.’ He took a shuddering breath. ‘I believe it must have been her—the description fits her perfectly. My poor sister! What can have happened to her? I have been searching for months and this is the first time I have heard anything positive. Where could she have gone after you left her?’

‘I wish as I could help you find her, sir,’ Fred said. ‘She wandered off that night alone, but I doubt she could have gone far. It might be a good idea to start a search in the surrounding district, sir. I’ve got an aunt lives in the village of St Tydyll, not more than eighteen miles distant from Sir Montague’s estate. Not much Madge Lightfoot doesn’t know about what goes on for miles around. I could send her a letter, sir, see if she has heard anything of a girl being found.’

‘Thank you, I shall be grateful for any information Mrs Lightfoot can give me, but now that I know where to concentrate my efforts I shall set my agents on the case.’ Charles signalled to the innkeeper. He was suddenly filled with new hope. Sarah had somehow escaped from the rogues who had thought to use her in their evil rites and he could not think that God would have been so merciful only to let her perish in some other way. ‘If Sarah is still alive, I shall find her. Someone must know where she is.’

‘If she found someone kind hearted enough to take her in, she may be safe, sir—though ’tis a wonder that she has not let you know where to find her.’

‘Perhaps she cannot,’ Charles said. ‘You said that she seemed confused—’ He broke off to order more ale for them both as the landlord approached. ‘It might be that she has lost her memory.’ Or more likely that she was afraid to contact her family because she felt that she had shamed them.

‘Thank you, sir.’ Fred accepted the ale, though he had refused payment in money. ‘I’ll get my Mary to send that letter off today to my aunt. I can’t write more than my name, sir, but Mary is a clever girl. If we hear anything, she will write to you if you give me an address.’

‘You may write to my house in London,’ Charles said. ‘I am grateful for your help, Mr Lightfoot, and would willingly pay for your trouble.’

‘I don’t want money for that, sir. I feel bad enough about what happened as it is. It would be a relief to me to know that she had been found safe and sound, sir—and to her poor mother, I dare say.’

‘I dare not tell my mother anything yet,’ Charles said. ‘She has been ill since Sarah’s disappearance, and if I should disappoint her it might kill her. No, I shall keep all this close to my chest, Mr Lightfoot. If we find Sarah, only her true friends will know what has happened to her. We have not talked of it outside our family and the people I trust.’

Fred nodded his understanding. Until the girl was found, the circumstances of that terrible night and the months succeeding it could not be known. It might be that she was ruined and would never be able to take her proper place in society.

‘You can trust me not to let my aunt know your sister’s name, sir. I shall just ask if she has heard of a young lady turning up out of the blue. If she is anywhere near St Tydyll, Madge will know of it.’

‘I pray God she does,’ Charles said, though he had little hope. Were it that easy to find Sarah, his agents would have done it before now. ‘As for me, I shall return to London tomorrow and set my agents in the right direction…’

‘May I speak with you, Cousin Arabella?’ Ralph asked when she returned from an outing one morning later that week. She had been in town for four days now and had done her best to avoid him as much as possible. ‘I have something particular I wish to say to you—in private, if you please?’

Arabella hesitated. It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse and make some excuse, but she knew that he would continue to pester her unless she acceded to his request. It might be as well to have it out now.

‘Very well, Ralph,’ she said in a crisp, cold tone that she hoped would deter him. ‘If you wish, we shall go into the parlour—but I must not delay long. I have to change for tea.’

He nodded, his eyes narrowing as she preceded him into the front parlour. Arabella took up a position near the pretty marble mantelpiece, turning to greet him, her head high. She looked proud and unapproachable, which made him frown.

‘Will you not be seated, cousin?’ he asked. They were of a similar height and yet he felt at a loss while she remained standing.

‘I prefer to stand,’ Arabella said, her dark eyes flashing silver. ‘Please say what you must, Ralph. I do not wish to not keep Aunt Hester waiting.’

‘You can surely spare a few minutes,’ Ralph said, looking sulky. ‘You have been here four days and I have hardly seen you. You are always out when I call. I waited purposely today to see you.’

‘I did not come to London to sit in the house, Ralph. I have been walking in the park with friends this morning and yesterday I went shopping.’

‘As you did the previous day—but we digress. I know that Mama feels it is time you remarried, Arabella. She is very fond of you, as I am. It seems to me very sensible that we should grant her wish to see you happily settled as my wife.’

‘Does it indeed?’ If Arabella’s manner had been cool before, it was positively frosty now. ‘I am afraid that I have no plans to marry again, but if I did it would be for my own sake and not to please Aunt Hester—much as I love her.’

He frowned, looking annoyed. ‘You know I did not mean it that way. I have always had a high regard for you, Arabella. I am sure we should suit very well. Besides, you have not had any other offers, have you? You can’t wish to live out your life as an old maid.’

‘It is very kind of you to concern yourself on my behalf, but I do not believe it would suit me to marry you,’ Arabella replied with dignity. How dare he say such things to her? She would have liked to be sharper, but struggled to control her anger at his insensitive behaviour for the sake of her aunt. She could see the gleam of resentment in his eyes, but was determined to continue. ‘It is hardly your business whether I have had offers of marriage or not, sir. You are my cousin, Ralph, and I wish you well for my aunt’s sake, but we have never truly been friends. Please put the idea of a marriage between us from your mind at once. The answer is and always will be no.’

‘Mama thought you might want to make her happy in her last years, but I told her you were too selfish.’ His mouth pulled back in a snarl. ‘I suppose you do not care what becomes of her if we are ruined?’

‘Aunt Hester would always have a home with me if she needed it,’ Arabella replied calmly. ‘You cannot blame me for your misfortunes, Ralph. My aunt has told me that she has helped you time and again. I have no intention of allowing you to run through my fortune at the card tables.’

‘Damn you!’ Ralph glared at her. ‘No wonder they call you the ice queen. You always were above yourself! Well, you will live to regret this, cousin.’

‘I do not understand you.’ She raised her brows at him. ‘Why should I regret something that would give me no pleasure?’

‘You leave me no choice,’ Ralph muttered. ‘I did as Mama wanted, but I would as lief go to the devil as marry a shrew!’

Arabella made no answer as he stormed from the room. She felt a little sick inside—for the look on his face had been one of hatred and she knew that she had made an enemy. Perhaps she ought not to have said as much, but she had wanted to make it clear that she would never accept an offer from him.

Going upstairs to change out of her green-striped walking gown into a pretty peach muslin, Arabella was reflective. She did not believe that her aunt had put Ralph up to it. She might wish to see her niece married, but Lady Tate could not hold out much hope of a match between Arabella and her son. She must be aware that they had never truly liked each other.

What had Ralph meant when he’d said she would live to repent turning him down? He was sometimes of a surly nature, but she did not think him capable of violence towards her. Yet he had said that her rejection had left him no choice—as if the course he now intended to follow would be her fault.

Arabella was aware of a feeling of unease as she went down to the back parlour to join her aunt for tea. Just what was her cousin hinting at?

Aunt Hester was reading a letter when Arabella entered the sunny room. She looked up and smiled, laying her letter to one side.

‘Here you are, my dear. Ralph called on us earlier—did you see him before he left?’

‘Yes…’ Arabella hesitated and then made up her mind. ‘He asked me to marry him. I refused. I am sorry if that upsets you, Aunt.’

‘I was afraid he meant to do it,’ Lady Tate said. ‘I am sorry, Arabella. I told him not to make a fool of himself. I knew you would see through him, my dear. He is more deeply in debt than I guessed. I have promised to sell a diamond necklace that my grandmother left me, but I have told him that I can do no more. He will simply have to sell what assets he has left.’

Arabella hesitated, then, ‘Perhaps I could spare a thousand or two, Aunt. For your sake I would help him this once.’

‘Oh, no, my dear,’ her aunt said, looking distressed at the idea. ‘Please do not offer. It would be a big mistake. He would only abuse your generosity and you would never be free of him. No, no, Ralph must learn to live within his means. He should look for some form of employment. I suggested that he go into the army or the church, but he was angry. He thinks that I shall sell this house for him, but I shall not.’

‘I do not see my cousin in the army, Aunt.’ Arabella could not picture Ralph as a vicar either, but refrained from saying so. Her cousin had been indulged too much as a boy and had never learned self-discipline. Selfish and thoughtless, he would not heed anyone’s advice. ‘But perhaps if he is driven to it, the church may serve.’

‘It is not to his liking,’ Lady Tate said, ‘but if he has ruined himself he must save what he can. While he continues to live in London and run with those friends of his…Mind you, Sir Montague Forsythe met with a fatal accident recently. I do not know the details but I think his sins had found him out, though Ralph will not say much concerning him. I believe they gambled together and Ralph was hoping that his friend would make him a loan to tide him over, but now it is out of the question.’

Arabella nodded. She had never met Sir Montague Forsythe and did not know what kind of a man he might be, but perhaps he might have been of help to Ralph.

‘Yes, well, perhaps he has other friends that might help him.’

‘I doubt it,’ Lady Tate said. ‘Another of his friends killed himself just before Sir Montague’s accident—possibly he had debt problems too. It has all been kept very quiet so I cannot say.’ She frowned and looked thoughtful. ‘I cannot pretend I am sorry they are gone, for they were a bad influence on Ralph. He had only been involved with them for a few months and I blame them for his excessive gambling. I think there is another—Sir Courtney Welch—but I do not think Ralph truly likes him. He does not speak of him, though I have seen them together.’

‘Well, I dare say my cousin may sell a part of the estate and recover,’ Arabella said. She reached out to touch her aunt’s hand. ‘Do not worry about it for the moment, dearest. I shall tell you what I have already told Ralph—if you should need it, there is always a home with me.’

‘You are such a sweet generous girl,’ her aunt said. ‘But I am determined not to give in to him, Arabella. This house and my jewels are all I have besides my jointure—and I do not intend to let Ralph’s foolishness ruin me completely.’

Arabella nodded, but she could not help recalling the ugly look on her cousin’s face when he’d told her that she had left him no choice…Just what had he meant by that?

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