Читать книгу Lady Arabella's Scandalous Marriage - Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 11

‘Perhaps you would care to give me your explanation as to exactly what Lord Redwood and I interrupted earlier?’ Hawk, Duke of Stourbridge, Arabella’s beloved eldest brother, was icily calm as he faced her across her bedchamber, but Arabella wasn’t fooled.

She did not think she would ever forget the look of horror on her brother’s face when, accompanied by Lord Redwood, he had walked into his study to find her and the Duke of Carlyne in a state of undress atop his leather-topped desk!

She gave an embarrassed groan just thinking of how her wilful determination to disprove Darius Wynter’s mockery of her claim to experience had led to what was now undoubtedly her complete disgrace.

That Hawk, whom Arabella so looked up to and wanted to think well of her, should have found her in such a compromising situation was unbearable. That Lord Redwood, a member of the government and a man who had campaigned against and spoken in the House on the subject of immorality within Society, should also have been witness to both Arabella and Hawk’s shame was beyond enduring..

Regret was an emotion that Darius seemed patently incapable of feeling. He had certainly displayed no indication of it when Hawk had turned to hurriedly usher Lord Redwood from the study. Instead Darius had simply moved away from Arabella to calmly refasten the buttons on his shirt and straighten his cravat, before once again donning his waistcoat and jacket and neatly arranging his snowy white linen at the cuff. A single sweep of one elegant hand through his hair had tousled those golden locks back into their normally rakish style.

And all the time he was doing those things Arabella had been hurriedly straightening her own clothing, her fingers shaking and her face deathly pale as she realised the enormity of her indiscretion. As she considered what the repercussions of her impetuous actions might be.

Immediate banishment to the Stourbridge ducal estate in Gloucestershire would, Arabella felt sure, be the least of those punishments!

Now, she moistened her lips before answering. ‘What explanation did Darius—er—the Duke of Carlyne give when the two of you spoke together just now?’

To Arabella’s further dismay Hawk had returned alone to his study only minutes after that embarrassing interruption, his disposition stiffly disapproving as he sent her up to her bedchamber so that he and Darius might converse privately together. Until Arabella knew what had been said during that conversation she had no idea what answer to give her brother.

Hawk strode further into the bedchamber, tall and austerely handsome, his eyes a cold, forbidding glitter. ‘He offered no explanation at all,’ her brother answered testily.

She frowned. ‘But he must have said something!’ Hawk gave a terse inclination of his head. ‘He offered marriage.’

Arabella’s eyes widened incredulously. Darius had offered for her?

It was the last thing, positively the last thing Arabella had been expecting when she considered Darius’s cold and distant behaviour in those minutes after they had been dis covered together.

‘An offer you will, of course, refuse,’ Hawk added autocratically, his top lip curled back with distaste.

Arabella stiffened with resentment at her brother’s arrogance. She had already suffered the indignity of being mocked by Darius this evening. Then being made love to by Darius and, once discovered, sent to her bedchamber by Hawk as if she were a naughty child. And now it seemed she was also to suffer being told what to do by her arrogant eldest brother.

In truth, Arabella was not sure that she even liked Darius Wynter, let alone wished to marry him. She found his good-looks compelling. His physical attributes exciting. Was intrigued by his reputation. Had been infuriated earlier by his taunting as to her knowledge of physical intimacy. But like him? No, Arabella’s feelings towards Darius could never be described by an emotion so … so lukewarm as liking!

Even so, her rebellious nature was such that she did not appreciate Hawk telling her what she would or would not do in regard to Darius’s offer of marriage.

She held herself proudly. ‘Surely that is for me to decide, Hawk, not you?’

Her eldest brother eyed her disapprovingly. ‘The man is totally unsuitable.’

‘His rank is every bit as prestigious as your own!’ Arabella found herself defending the very man she had minutes ago been so angry with.

‘His rank, perhaps, but not the man,’ Hawk bit out contemptuously. ‘Arabella, I cannot tell you how strongly I would disapprove of a match between you and Carlyne.’

She raised her chin in stubborn defiance of that disapproval. ‘I am sorry you feel that way.’

Hawk’s eyes narrowed. ‘It is your intention to accept Carlyne’s offer, then?’

‘I have not decided,’ she answered coolly. ‘I will give you my answer once I have given Darius his.’

Her brother straightened, looking every inch the aristocratic Duke of Stourbridge. ‘He has asked to speak to you in my study before he leaves.’

Arabella gave a haughty inclination of her head. ‘In that case I really must not keep him waiting any longer.’ She swept regally from the bedchamber and down the stairs.

Before her courage failed her!

‘Your brother has graciously granted us five minutes alone together in which we might discuss this evening’s events,’ Darius said dryly when Arabella rejoined him in the now candlelit study.

Hawk St Claire was so damned toplofty. He obviously believed himself to be far superior to Darius in every way. He had seemed not to care a jot for the fact that Darius was himself now a duke, and therefore the other man’s social equal, as he’d coldly informed him exactly what he thought of him for daring to dally with his sister.

Until Darius’s offer of marriage—his second in regard to Lady Arabella St Claire—had robbed the other man completely of speech!

‘So I understand.’ Arabella looked at him with the same haughty disdain as her eldest brother had only minutes ago.

Even so, Darius could not help but admire the rebellious glitter in her eyes and the defiant tilt to her chin as she looked down the length of that haughty little nose at him. Not too many women he knew would be half so sure of themselves after being so recently discovered in a compromising situation with a scandalously notorious rake like him.

That Darius had ceased to publicly live up to that reputation since taking on the mantle of the Duke of Carlyne appeared to have gone unnoticed by the majority of the ton; it was a case of once a rake always a rake, it seemed. Not that this reputation was in the least a hindrance to Darius’s eligibility. As Arabella’s youngest brother Sebastian had once informed him, inheriting a dukedom tended to bring on a bout of amnesia amongst the ton concerning a man’s previous indiscretions.

Which brought Darius back full circle to the purpose of this five-minutes conversation with the young lady standing before him.

His mouth compressed. ‘I doubt we will need the whole of the allotted five minutes for me to make a formal offer for you and for you to refuse it.’ Darius studied her from beneath hooded lids as he clinically admired her undoubted beauty: those deep brown eyes, that pert little nose, the perfect bow of her lips. Lips that had only minutes ago responded to his with a passion that had far exceeded any of Darius’s expectations.

He was acquainted well enough with the three St Claire brothers to know that Arabella’s earlier claims to physical experience were a complete fabrication. Her brothers would never have tolerated even a hint of licentious behaviour in their young sister. But it had been her defiance that at the time Darius had been unable to resist challenging.

He had never had any serious intention of making love to Arabella, only to exact a little revenge for her dismissal of his offer eighteen months ago. That revenge had neatly rebounded on him when she had responded to his kisses and caresses with a passion that had just been waiting, it seemed, to respond to a lover’s touch.

His specific touch?

Somehow Darius doubted that very much. Since their first meeting Arabella had made her contemptuous opinion of him more than obvious.

‘Marriage is not something I either seek or want,’ he drawled now. ‘Nevertheless, I am aware of the obligation I have to make such an offer. An offer that you, having already assured me that I am a man no decent woman would ever align herself with, need only refuse to bring an end to it.’

Arabella felt a shiver down the length of her spine as she heard the steely edge to Darius’s tone as he repeated her earlier insult to him. An insult he had obviously taken exception to….

Enough to have deliberately made love to her a short time ago? No doubt. But it did not alter the fact that she had responded to him in such a wild and abandoned way.

Darius’s arrogant certainty that Arabella would refuse his offer rankled in the same way as Hawk’s cold assertion that she would refuse it had done earlier. ‘Well? ‘ she demanded haughtily.

Those deep blue eyes narrowed. ‘Well, what?’

Arabella gave him a pert smile. ‘I am waiting for you to make such an offer.’

Blond brows rose mockingly. ‘I believe I just did.’

‘No, you did not.’ Arabella shook her head. ‘You have explained that it is an offer you feel socially pressured into making. You have also said that I will refuse such an offer. You have yet to actually make me that offer.’

Darius gave an impatient grimace. ‘You want your pound of flesh? Is that it?’

Her eyes flashed in temper. ‘I merely want my offer!’

‘Very well.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Lady Arabella, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife? ‘ He made no effort to hide the sarcasm behind his proposal, or the cynical twist to his mouth.

It fired Arabella’s temper anew. Darius Wynter was one of the most arrogant men she had ever met. He was just so absolutely sure of himself. Of Arabella’s refusal to even consider his proposal. Of his ability to escape any lasting repercussions concerning their lovemaking—leaving her to bear the brunt of them with regard to her immediate family.

All her life, it seemed, Arabella had been surrounded by arrogantly forceful men. Her father, Alexander. Her three older brothers. To tie herself to a husband who possessed that same arrogance would surely be the height of folly.

Or perhaps it would be the height of good sense?

Arabella had enjoyed her two Seasons, but only once during that time had she even come close to finding a man who held her interest beyond their initial meeting. And that man had been Darius Wynter himself.

His Grace was absolutely nothing like the young men who had flattered and flirted with her these past two Seasons, all proclaiming undying love for her until Arabella had become sickened by their attentions.

Darius, making no effort to hide his arrogance or his cynicism, had neither flattered nor flirted with her. Much to her regret …

Arabella’s pulse fluttered anew just looking at him: that golden hair, those dark and unfathomable blue eyes, his arrogant slash of a nose above sculptured lips and jaw. And his perfectly tailored clothes covered what she had discovered such a short time ago was a surprisingly hard and muscled body.

No, Arabella was positive she would never find herself bored in the company of Darius Wynter …

‘You are taking a deuced long time to refuse me!’ he eventually growled in his impatience with her silence.

Arabella couldn’t help giving a taunting, confident smile. ‘I am still considering your offer, sir.’

He scowled darkly. ‘What is there to consider?’

Arabella could no longer stand looking at the desk which had been the scene of her disgrace, instead strolling over to stand in front of the window to look out across the moonlit garden. ‘Well, for one thing, by accepting your offer I would become a duchess.’

‘The despised Darius Wynter’s duchess, do not forget,’ he reminded her harshly.

She gave a haughty inclination of her head as she turned to face him. ‘There is that to consider, of course.’

His mouth twisted. ‘And have you also forgotten that I was so “conveniently” rid of one wife but one short year ago?’

Arabella had forgotten!

‘You must also be aware that none of the ton has a good word to say about me,’ Darius said, pressing his advantage.

Arabella frowned slightly. ‘My brother Lucian speaks very highly of you.. ‘

Darius’s mouth tightened. ‘We are friends. Of a sort.’

She nodded. ‘And I know that his wife, Grace, has taken several people to task for daring to criticise you within her hearing.’

His mouth quirked. ‘We are related, after all.’

‘Only tenuously.’ Arabella dismissed the connection of him being Grace’s half-uncle by marriage, or some such nonsense. ‘My new sister-in-law, Juliet, was also most insistent that you be a guest at her wedding today.’

Darius’s expression softened slightly as he thought of the gracious and beautiful Juliet Boyd, now Lady Juliet St Claire. ‘Only because it was jealousy of my own friendship with the lady that was instrumental in bringing your brother up to scratch.’

Arabella’s eyes widened. ‘You had a—a romantic interest in Juliet?’ ‘Not in the least.’ Darius gave a firm shake of his head. ‘Sebastian thought I had a romantic interest in her,’ he corrected. ‘She and I were both aware at all times that that was not at all the case.’

‘Why not?’

He raised surprised blond brows. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Why were you not attracted to Juliet?’

‘I simply was not.’ He snapped his impatience with the subject. ‘Contrary to popular belief, I do not set out to seduce every beautiful woman I meet.’

Arabella frowned once more. ‘I had not realised you were present at the Bancrofts’ house party when Sebastian and Juliet met this past summer.’

Darius gave her an irritated glare. ‘I see no reason why you should have been informed.’

Arabella’s cheeks burned at the obvious derision in his tone. ‘Were you there when the French spy was apprehended?’

It took great effort on Darius’s part to keep his outward appearance coolly neutral. ‘What French spy? ‘

Arabella shook her head. ‘I have no idea. Sebastian and Juliet deny any knowledge of it. But rumour has it that the man was masquerading as someone’s servant before the arrest?’

Rumour, as usual, was wrong. Darius knew with certainty that the French spy in question had been a woman.

‘The incident must have happened after I had left,’ he said. ‘Now, could we get back to our own conversation? Our allotted five minutes was over long ago, and at any moment Hawk is likely to join us and demand to know our decision.’ Darius would use any means at his disposal—even reminding her of his marriage offer—to deter Arabella from showing any further interest in that French spy!

‘My decision,’ Arabella corrected haughtily. ‘After all, I am the one who will decide whether or not we are to be betrothed,’ she explained at Darius’s questioning glance.

Darius studied her through narrowed lids, easily noting the glitter of challenge in those deep brown eyes, the high colour in her cheeks, the determined set of her mouth and that stubbornly angled chin.

All things that told him Arabella was seriously considering accepting his offer….

An offer she had felt no compunction in refusing the previous year. Before he became a rich widower. Before he inherited the title of Duke of Carlyne.

Darius’s expression hardened. ‘And have you now decided?’

She drew in a ragged breath. ‘I … I believe I need more time in which to consider the matter.’

‘How much more time?’ Darius rasped harshly.

Arabella shrugged slender shoulders. ‘These things cannot be rushed, Your Grace. After all, we are talking of the rest of my life, are we not?’

‘And mine,’ he grated between clenched teeth.

She eyed him knowingly. ‘Perhaps you should have considered that before making love to me earlier?’

‘Perhaps I should,’ Darius said tersely. He had never met a young lady more deserving of having her backside paddled than Lady Arabella St Claire did at this moment. In hindsight, that was probably what Darius should have administered earlier this evening in response to her challenge, rather than making love to her!

She looked down her tiny nose at him. ‘I suggest, Your Grace, that in view of the lateness of the hour I consider your offer overnight and you call on me again tomorrow morning so that I might give you my answer.’

His mouth thinned. ‘Whilst you are … considering my offer, might I also suggest you consider that any marriage between us would necessarily be of the fullest kind.’

Arabella gave him a frowning glance, colour warming her cheeks as the mockery in his eyes and the twist to his hard mouth told her exactly what he meant by that comment.

Was she seriously considering Darius’s marriage proposal? Or was she merely toying with him?

Just as he had toyed with her earlier when he’d made love to her with such deliberation?

For that alone Darius Wynter deserved to suffer at least the overnight torment of uncertainty as to whether or not Arabella would accept him.

She could not deny that becoming a duchess—even the Duchess of the infamous Duke of Carlyne—would be a wonderful matrimonial feather in her bonnet. She was also sure that Darius Wynter was too complex a man ever to bore her. In their marriage bed or out of it.

She gave a gracious inclination of her head. ‘That sounds perfectly reasonable in the circumstances.’

His eyes narrowed to icy slits. ‘You understand that I would expect my duchess to be amenable to the idea of producing Carlyne heirs?’

‘That is the normal consequence of a full marriage, is it not?’

In truth, Arabella could not imagine having a marriage without children in it. Having grown up with three older siblings, and with one young nephew already to love and adore, Arabella looked forward to one day having children of her own to pet and spoil and love.

Darius Wynter’s children?

If Arabella were honest with herself—and she usually was—then she would have to acknowledge that she had been completely aware of this man from the moment they’d met. It had been impossible not to notice him as he’d done the rounds of the salons and balls. Arabella also knew herself, along with several of the other young ladies out that year, to have become slightly infatuated with the dangerously handsome Lord Wynter.

All of them had certainly heaved a sigh of disappointment when he’d announced his betrothal to the heiress Miss Sophie Belling later that year, before marrying her in a private ceremony in the north of England only weeks later.

To now have him offer for Arabella, for whatever reason, filled her with edgy excitement more than anything else!

Darius had no idea what Arabella was thinking as she stared at him so intently. He could only hope that she was working out how unsuitable this marriage would be for both of them.

Aware that he would have to marry again one day, if only to provide the necessary heir, Darius also knew that now was not the right time for him to even be thinking of matrimony. Not when he had learnt earlier this evening that the French spy Arabella had just alluded to was once again at large.

His mouth tightened. ‘Might I also suggest, Arabella, that you consider the fact that in marrying me you would be tying yourself to a man you do not love, and who does not love you.’

Those brown eyes narrowed. ‘Is that not what dalliances outside of marriage are for?’

A red tide of anger passed in front of Darius’s eyes at the thought of Arabella taking a lover outside of their marriage.

Damn it, there was not going to be a marriage between them! Not if Darius could prevent it.

‘Your brothers have all married for love,’ he pointed out.

Her expression softened. ‘So they have.’ Her mouth firmed. ‘They have obviously all been more fortunate than I.’

‘You are but nineteen, Arabella—’

‘Almost twenty,’ she reminded him swiftly. ‘Although I fail to see what my age has to do with any thing.’

‘It has to do with the fact that you may yet meet a man for whom you can feel love,’ Darius bit out.

Her mouth quirked. ‘Take care, Your Grace, you are allowing your own reluctance to take me as your wife more than obvious!’

Was he? If that were the case, then Darius was a better actor than he had ever given himself credit for being! In truth, he had only repeated his offer for Arabella at all because Hawk St Claire’s haughty disdain had infuriated him.

But what man in his right mind, given the opportunity, would not want to take the beautiful and accomplished, the self-willed and haughty,the emotional and wildly passionate Arabella St Claire as his wife? To spend his days crossing verbal swords with her and his nights revelling in all the wild passion of which Darius now knew she was capable?

No man, in his right mind or otherwise, would even consider passing up the opportunity of marrying such a woman as the magnificent Lady Arabella St Claire!

Unless he was Darius Wynter. A man with whom it had already been proved it was dangerous for any woman to become involved. Especially now …

‘Probably because I am reluctant,’ he drawled scornfully.

‘What a pity.’ Arabella eyed him mockingly. ‘When I am seriously thinking of accepting your offer!’

Darius’s jaw tightened. ‘Only because you are a contrary little baggage!’

She gave a trill of laughter. ‘Do not expect that to change if I should decide to marry you.’

He scowled his displeasure. ‘Arabella—’

‘I believe we have talked on this subject long enough for one evening, Your Grace.’ She affected a bored yawn as she crossed to the door. ‘As I have said, I will inform you as to my decision in the morning.’

Darius could only stand and stare after Arabella in intense frustration as she left the room.

Would she have the audacity to inform him on the morrow that she had decided to accept his marriage proposal?

He realised with a heavy sigh that he was in for a long, sleepless night….