Courtship Wars: To Pleasure A Lady Part 20

Heath shook his head in similar perplexity. "It's understandable you would be fascinated by Miss Loring's beauty and spirit, especially if she refused your marriage offer. No other woman you know would dare reject you, so of course you are intrigued by the challenge of pursuing her-"

"It isn't only the challenge," Marcus interjected.

"Then what is it?"

"I finally found someone I could picture as my countess, one who could prove a good match for me."

Drew frowned with deep skepticism, but Heath appeared thoughtful. "If that's true," he said slowly, "then I could almost envy you. I've never encountered any woman whom I considered my ideal match. I suppose you are to be congratulated."

"I believe I am," Marcus replied lightly.

It was no surprise that Heath was willing to regard a foray into matrimony as a potential positive rather *

than catastrophic development. Heath's effortless charm made him a great favorite with women; he'd just never wanted to be tied down to only one of the adoring females who flocked to him in droves. Yet Heath was the most reckless and daring of the three, and the most open to new adventures, while Drew was the most guarded-and the most cynical.

Just now Drew ran a hand through his fair hair in a gesture of frustration. "You cannot have thought this through clearly."

Yes, he had thought it through, Marcus reflected. But he was acting more on instinct than cold logic.

Arabella brought a much needed spark of fire into his life. She was warm and vibrantly alive....

Marcus smiled as he remembered the laughing gleam in her gray eyes last evening at the ball when she'd handed him the list of young ladies she wanted him to partner. And then later, the grateful emotion in her eyes when she thanked him for rescuing her pupil, her expression soft and giving.

He'd made up his mind then that he wouldn't let her go. His decision, however, was difficult to explain to his closest friends, since they'd never felt such possessiveness toward any woman.

When he remained silent, Drew interrupted his thoughts with a sardonic drawl. "You cannot possibly fancy yourself in love, Marcus."

Love? He wasn't certain he even believed in the emotion. At least he'd never seen a true love match among his acquaintances, although he suspected the possibility did indeed exist.

He had never held out the hope, either, of finding intimacy and affection in marriage, but the prospect was highly appealing-and quite possible with Arabella as his wife.

At the very least, their marriage would be exhilarating. Far from the cold, dispa.s.sionate union his parents had known, or the bitterly antagonistic never-ending battle Arabella's parents had reportedly perpetuated.

"No," Marcus said slowly, "I cannot claim to be in love."

"You relieve my mind," Drew said, his caustic tone suggesting just the opposite.

Marcus gave the duke an a.s.sessing glance. Drew's convictions would be difficult to sway, he knew.

"You will be more relieved once you come to know Arabella, which is why I asked you both to join us at the theater tomorrow night. So you can meet her and judge for yourself. I am taking her to dine at the Clarendon beforehand, with her friend, Lady Freemantle, acting as chaperone."

"Don't tell me you require a chaperone to dine at a public hotel with your spinster ward."

"Under normal circ.u.mstances, it wouldn't be necessary, but with her reputation still under the cloud of her parents' scandal, I think it advisable. I mean to reestablish Arabella and her sisters in society, so I'm prepared to do everything that is proper. I've invited Eleanor and Aunt Beatrix to share our box at Covent Garden, so they can also become acquainted with Arabella."

Beatrix, Viscountess Beldon, was Marcus's maternal aunt, and an amiable lady herself. All three men were fond of the elderly dame.

"Why not invite us all to dine at the Clarendon with you?" Heath asked.

"Because I am taking my courts.h.i.+p one step at a time," Marcus explained. "A private dinner with family and friends would be too intimate at this point. I don't want to push Arabella so much that she bolts."

Heath shot the duke an amused glance. "Sounds as if her aversion to matrimony is as fierce as yours, Drew."

"It is," Marcus confirmed. "I had to coerce her just to get her to attend the theater tomorrow night." He glanced between his two friends. "So you will come?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Heath said at once.

"And you, Drew?"

"If I must," he replied more reluctantly.

Marcus smiled. "Good. I expect you both to be on your best behavior. Arabella has a decided distaste for rakes, and all of us qualify to some extent. I want her to see that we do have a few estimable qualities."

Heath raised an eyebrow. "You mean to say that she is a prude?"

Marcus laughed softly, recalling Arabella's enthusiastic reception of his lovemaking. "Not in the least.

But her father was a champion philanderer, so she wants nothing to do with men of his ilk."

His friend nodded slowly. "I suppose that is understandable, but you had best take care not to let her turn you into a tame milksop."

"I have little fear of that. Arabella has no fancy for milksops, either."

"What about her two sisters?" Heath asked thoughtfully. "You say they are both beauties?"

"Yes, why?"

"If you find them half as intriguing as your eldest ward, I might like to meet them."

He did indeed find them intriguing, Marcus mused. His second ward was the most exquisite of the three, although he preferred Arabella's earthier appearance-red-gold tresses and flas.h.i.+ng gray eyes-to Roslyn's golden princess image. Lilian was as captivating but wholly different from either of her sisters; her bold dark eyes and vibrant chestnut hair gave her a vividness that brought Gypsies to mind.

"The middle sister, Roslyn is an extraordinary beauty," Marcus said, "but a bit on the delicate side for your taste, Heath. The youngest, Lilian, is a true spitfire-more up your alley. Perhaps you might like me to introduce you."

Heath responded with a grin. "I might at that. I have yet to meet the woman who could tame me enough to make me wish to settle down, but one can always hope."

"If you would offer for her, I could be rid of the responsibility for her. What about you, Drew?" Marcus asked. "With her elegance and intelligence, Roslyn might kindle your interest."

"Are you out of your skull?" Drew demanded with a look of mock horror. When Marcus chuckled, Drew skewered him with a glance. "Don't press me, you sorry bleater. It's enough that I am willing to withhold judgment of your new infatuation until I meet her. With any luck, the eldest Miss Loring will have the good sense to rebuff you permanently, so we can return to our normal peaceful existence."

At that cynical comment, Marcus held his tongue, yet he had no desire to return to his normal existence.

He was making slow but sure progress in his courts.h.i.+p of Arabella, and he had every intention of wedding her, despite her tenacious reluctance. Arabella was an ideal match for him, even if she refused to see it yet.

His chief difficulty was holding a tight rein on his l.u.s.t. He deserved an award of some kind for keeping his hands to himself these past few days when he wanted Arabella so badly. It required extreme fort.i.tude to let her retire alone each night, when he would far rather sweep her upstairs to his bed and spend the next fortnight exploring her lovely body and teaching her about pa.s.sion.

Hopefully, however, his restraint would not be necessary much longer.

Marcus seemed to be intensifying his courts.h.i.+p, Arabella decided as she eyed the large copper bathtub in her dressing room. The tub was appropriately filled with hot water, but much of the surface was covered with pink rose petals. She wondered how he had slipped into her dressing room without being seen by her new abigail, who had taken charge of her elegant new wardrobe.

"Don't those petals smell fine, Miss?" Nan asked cheerfully. "His lords.h.i.+p asked me to sprinkle them in yer bath."

"Lord Danvers asked you to put them here?"

"Aye, he did. He says you have a fondness for roses, and that petals are good as rosewater to make a body smell sweet."

Well, at least he hadn't tried entering her private apartments himself, Arabella thought with amus.e.m.e.nt as she undressed and sank into the hot water. In fact, until this maneuver, Marcus had made no intimate overtures toward her in days.

Feeling the petals caress her skin reminded Arabella keenly that she hadn't seen much of Marcus since the ball. He'd spent last night in London on business, and his absence had disappointed her a little, perhaps because she had decided to give his courts.h.i.+p a real chance to develop. She couldn't deny, either, that she had missed his company at dinner last evening.

She also couldn't deny how much she was antic.i.p.ating the upcoming evening. It would be a delightful treat to dine at the Clarendon Hotel and attend Covent Garden Theater in such distinguished company as Marcus had promised. Arabella was admittedly eager to meet his sister and aunt and his two closest friends. She only hoped she could hold her own with them.

She was glad, therefore, to be able to wear her new evening gown of rose twilled silk and the stunning ruby pendant and earrings that Marcus had sent up. When she studied her attire in the cheval gla.s.s, her image gave her pause. She looked very much the regal lady, worthy of being his countess.

Arabella's expression grew thoughtful. Should she perhaps give his proposal earnest consideration after all?

She was even gladder to see Marcus when she went down stairs to find him awaiting her in the entrance hall. At the sight of him, warmth blossomed out from her belly, and she felt her heart flutter rather alarmingly. He looked breathtakingly handsome in a long-tailed burgundy coat, gold brocade waistcoat, and white satin knee breeches. She took his arm gingerly, though, resolved to conceal her pleasure at seeing him again.

It was a lovely afternoon, cool from this morning's rain but with fleecy white clouds floating across the blue sky. They were starting early in order to make the nearly hour-long drive to London.

His coachmen drove them to collect Winifred, who settled beside Arabella with an approving glance.

"Your gown is perfect, my dear, and that scent you are wearing is quite pleasant."

Arabella returned a puzzled look, since she was not wearing any perfume.

"It must be the rose petals," Marcus murmured provokingly.

"What rose petals?" the older lady asked.

"Never mind," Arabella said quickly, giving him a quelling glance.

Otherwise, the evening began promisingly enough. Marcus's well-sprung carriage made the journey in relative ease, and from the moment they arrived at the elegant hotel, his party was treated like visiting royalty. They were led to a private parlor, where the staff leapt to antic.i.p.ate his lords.h.i.+p's every wish and plied them with three delicious courses and a dozen removes. Lady Freemantle claimed to be highly impressed and expressed grat.i.tude to Lord Danvers for the privilege of sharing his ill.u.s.trious company.

When they arrived at Covent Garden two hours later, Arabella was even more grateful, since without him, she likely would have found the glittering crowd intimidating after four years of being shunned by their supercilious ranks.

The cream of society filled the upper tiers-the lords and gentlemen dressed in formal finery, the ladies dripping in satins and jewels. Since many of them had only come to see and be seen rather than to enjoy the play, the din was quite loud as Marcus escorted Arabella and Winifred upstairs.

His box, Arabella saw when they arrived, was already occupied by two ladies and two gentlemen, who all rose in greeting.

Marcus made the introductions, starting with his Aunt Beatrix, Lady Beldon. The tiny, silver-haired woman had curious bright eyes that reminded Arabella of an inquisitive bird. Without any prompting, Marcus's sister, Lady Eleanor, stepped forward. The raven-haired beauty wore diamonds threaded through her short curls and a smile of welcome as she clasped Arabella's hands warmly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Loring. My scoundrel of a brother has been keeping you a secret." She sent Marcus a laughing glance. "He never mentioned a word about you until two days ago."

"Because I didn't wish to frighten her off with your atrocious manners, minx," Marcus said fondly.

"Pah," Eleanor retorted. "She doesn't look the sort to be frightened by anything."

Arabella couldn't help but smile. "At least not by manners. Not after attempting to teach them to scores of green girls for the past three years."

Lady Beldon spoke for the first time. "Marcus told us something of your academy, Miss Loring. I should like to hear about it."

"Certainly, my lady."

Marcus then made known his close friends, the Duke of Arden and the Marquess of Claybourne.

The duke was darkly blond, his tall frame one of lithe elegance, while the marquess was nearly as tall but more powerfully built, his hair a tawny brown. They each responded to Arabella quite differently. Arden offered her a cool bow, but Claybourne was far more welcoming, flas.h.i.+ng her a smile of amused charm that reminded her a little of Marcus.

Arabella could see why the three n.o.blemen were the talk of London. They were all striking men, beautiful as sin yet utterly... male. It was no wonder females were attracted to them in droves. Certainly they drew the rapt attention of the crowded audience now. It seemed to Arabella as if every eye in the theater was trained on their box.

There were two rows of seats, but when Marcus started to guide Arabella to the nearest chair, his sister intervened.

"Please sit beside me, Miss Loring," Lady Eleanor said. "We can become better acquainted...and perhaps compare stories about my brother's guardians.h.i.+p."

Thus, the front row was occupied by the ladies; first Marcus's aunt, then his sister, then Arabella, and finally Winifred. When Marcus and his friends took the chairs directly behind, Arabella felt unusually exposed, especially when she spied a number of the audience whispering behind fans and pointing at Lord Danvers's party.

She soon realized they were gossiping about her, although it soothed her pride somewhat to realize she was receiving a few admiring looks of her own from several of the gentlemen.

Lady Eleanor noticed as well. "Don't pay them any mind, Miss Loring. You are merely their latest object of interest. It will blow over quickly." She paused, giving her charming laugh. "At least it always does in my case when I commit some minor infraction."

"Which is far too frequently," Marcus said, leaning forward.

He had allowed ample time before the play started so they could become acquainted, and the initial conversation proved highly congenial. Eleanor managed to keep up a spirited dialogue while subtly interrogating Arabella about her and her family. But as Marcus had predicted, she found herself liking his sister, who on first impression seemed witty and lively with a wicked sense of fun.

She had less opportunity to converse with Marcus's friends, since they sat behind her. The marquess threw in a comment now and then, which was a marked contrast to the duke's conspicuous silence.

Arabella had the distinct feeling his grace disapproved of her, although he unbent a little when Eleanor turned to tease him about his glumness. Apparently Arden had scant fondness for Shakespeare, and they were to see a performance of Richard III tonight, with one of London's greatest actors, John Kemble, playing the lead role.

It was while the duke was trading quips with Lady Eleanor that Arabella spied her friend f.a.n.n.y Irwin entering a nearby box on an elderly gentleman's arm. Looking very much the "Fas.h.i.+onable Impure,"

f.a.n.n.y was gowned in emerald satin with her upswept ebony hair and her ample white bosom bedecked with jewels.

f.a.n.n.y sent Arabella a discreet smile, which she returned just as discreetly. They had decided several years ago, for the sake of her academy's reputation, that it wasn't wise for Arabella to blatantly advertise her friends.h.i.+p with a notorious courtesan.

A few moments later, however, she noticed a red-haired lady staring darkly at her from several boxes away. The woman was simply stunning, dressed in an ivory gown whose low decolletage exposed an abundant amount of alabaster skin adorned by diamonds.

Arabella had no idea what she might have done to arouse such enmity from a perfect stranger, but she saw Lady Beldon give the beauty a polite nod of acknowledgment. Fortunately, the curtain rose, and Arabella's attention became caught up in the drama being enacted on stage.

Kemble's performance was truly a pleasure to watch, so the time sped by. At the intermission following Act II, Marcus and the duke rose to fetch the ladies some wine. The marquess offered to act as escort when Eleanor professed a desire to stretch her legs and invited Arabella and Winifred to stroll the halls with her.

Lady Eleanor was hugely popular, they quickly discovered. She was greeted frequently and stopped each time to introduce her new friends.