Arabella (23 page)

             
'Oh yes, my lord – and I understand perfectly.'

             
Of course she understood.  He wanted to flaunt his mistress, to make other men jealous that he possessed such a beautiful creature, but he did not want her to look cheap or like a woman of the night.  It was a delicate balance, but Madame Suzanne believed she could manage it – providing Mrs Tucker did not insist on having her breasts too much on display.

             
'Should I not have some say in my clothes, Gervase?'  A militant sparkle had crept into Arabella's eyes.

             
'I shall leave you to choose your bonnets and shawls, my love,' he murmured silkily, and anything else you desire – but trust me in the matter of your wardrobe.  I believe you will be happy with the result.'

             
'The Marquis is known for his excellent taste,' Madame Suzanne told her, giving him a simpering look that set Arabella's teeth on edge.  'No lady could fault it.'

             
Arabella felt tempted to make a cutting reply, but recalled a moment the previous night when she had felt that she was truly happy.  Gervase had made love to her so many times, his manner that of a lover rather than a protector, and she suddenly realised that she was lucky to have found such generosity.  What did it matter if it pleased him to choose her clothes?  He would tire of it eventually and then she could choose others that pleased her more.

             
'Then I must accept your judgement,' she said and smiled sweetly at Gervase.  'I am sure that I could not do better.'

             
A smile hovered about his mouth, and she could see the mockery in his eyes.  He did not believe in her meek manner for one moment, and would no doubt take her to task over it later, when they were alone.  Her heart beat faster at the thought, and she realised that nothing else really mattered other than the time they spent in each other's arms.  Clothes were not important, for she was happiest when wearing none at all.

             
'You were very good in there,' Gervase told her as they left some minutes later, Arabella wearing one of the new gowns he had purchased for her.  It was a walking gown of green cloth trimmed with black ribbons and a little severe for her taste, though she had to admit it set off her figure to perfection.  The bonnet was a piece of frivolous nonsense concocted of feathers, silk ribbons and straw, and she had chosen it herself. 'I shall have to reward you for that, Bella.'

             
'Where are you taking me this evening?' she asked.  'You said I needed a special gown.'

             
'We are going to the opera,' he told her.  'I keep a box there and have invited some friends to join us.  Afterwards, we shall have supper at an exclusive club – if the idea pleases you?'

             
'Oh yes, I love music,' she said happily.  'And it is ages since I went out in company – but…'

             
'You think that some people may cut you?'

             
'My aunt assured me it would happen.'

             
'I think you may find that most gentlemen will be happy to acknowledge you,' Gervase told her.  'Some ladies may be frosty, but we shall not mind them, my love.  They will all be envious of you…'  He touched a finger to her cheek.  'Now I am going to buy you something pretty to wear with that evening gown…sapphires and diamonds, I think – though emeralds would set off your eyes.  But perhaps just diamonds would be best of all…'

'Oh, Gervase…'  Arabella looked at herself in the mirror as he fastened the magnificent diamond collar they had purchased at the Bond Street jeweller that morning.  'It is wonderful.  Better than anything my aunt possessed or any of her friends either.'

             
'And so I should hope,' Gervase said, a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth.  The cost of the necklace was prohibitive but he had been determined to make a statement, and the collar of huge stones of the first water certainly did that to a nicety.  'I would expect my…woman to wear rather better jewellery than Lady Mary or any of her friends.'

             
'It would make Nan so jealous,' Arabella said, eyes shining with excitement.  'You are so good to me, Gervase.  I do not know what I've done to deserve anything like this.'

             
'Do you not, Bella?'  His eyes were soft and amused as they rested on her face.  She was magnificent that night, more beautiful than he had ever seen her, and he believed that the glow radiating from inside her had not been caused simply by the purchase of new gowns and a necklace that would beggar many men.  'Well, perhaps I can think of something later?'

             
She felt her heart quicken as she gazed up into his eyes and saw the promise there, and almost wished that they were not going out that night.

             
'Look at me like that and I may forgo the opera,' Gervase said, a mocking smile on his lips.  'Yet it would be a shame to waste such a toilette.  I think we are ready, my love.  Let us venture forth and see what delights the world has to offer us this night.'

             
As he offered her his arm, Arabella gurgled with pleasure.  When he was like this…she could almost believe that he loved her and that she returned his feelings.  It was just an illusion, of course, and soon enough she would wake from the dream to reality, but for now she would enjoy being the Marquis of Roxbourne's mistress for it was proving even more exciting than she might have imagined.

The evening was delightful for Arabella.  She could not recall ever having had such a wonderful time.  Gervase was attentive to her at all times; he could not have been more so had they recently been married, and she felt flattered and privileged to be with such a charming companion.

             
She knew immediately they entered their box that she had been noticed, and felt the eyes of both men and women upon her during the first act of Handel's Rinaldo, which was the story of the capture of Jerusalem by Christians from the Saracens.

             
She was entranced by the music, especially when Armida the sorceress threatened the Saracen king because he admitted his love for a Christian princess.

             
Their box seemed to be the prime attraction for gentlemen of all ages during the intervals; they came ostensibly to talk with Gervase and the three friends he had invited, one of whom was Jack Meadows, and stayed, enchanted by Arabella's smile and soft laughter.

             
'By George, you're a lucky fellow,' she heard more than one gentleman tell him, but they did not dare to say anything untoward, treating Arabella herself with the utmost respect, almost reverence in some cases.  It seemed not to matter that she had lost her reputation, for she had gained lustre as Roxbourne's mistress.  She was a beautiful woman with a charming manner and a ready wit, and most were happy to accept her for what she was.

             
True, there were a few ladies in the audience who looked at her through their opera glass with disapproval, but she did not mind them.  Why should she when she had so much flattering attention?

             
Afterwards, at supper, she was treated to more of the same, and felt almost reluctant to leave all her new admirers.  And yet when they were alone in Gervase's room, her heart beat faster and she knew that beneath the glamour and excitement of the evening, she had been waiting for this moment.

             
'So, Bella,' Gervase said, quirking his eyebrow mockingly.  'I believe the evening was a success for you.'

             
'Because you made it so,' she said honestly.  'You treated me with respect and so your friends followed suit.  It is you they respect, Gervase. They would not be so charming if I were not your mistress.'

             
He reached out, touching her cheek with his fingertips, an odd, slightly regretful expression in his eyes.  'I cannot give you back what you have lost, my love – but while you remain in my protection you will be treated with respect or I shall want to know the reason why.'

             
'I should not be received in mixed company, Gervase.'

             
'There are some who may invite you to less formal occasions,' he said.  'Certainly you will accompany me to the houses of my friends and to the theatre, but I must admit that even I cannot force the entrée into some circles.  However, we shall ignore them, my love.  We may take a jaunt to Paris or Vienna at sometime in the summer, and there I dare say you will find society is freer.  I sometimes find English society manners stifling, though in private it is a different matter.  You committed the cardinal sin, my sweet, and for that you cannot be forgiven.  Others may do worse, but they do not flaunt their vices as you did.'

             
'I do not care what the old tabbies think of me!' she declared and stuck her head in the air.

             
'Nor I,' Gervase replied and reached out for her, drawing her close.  'You are mine as I always meant you to be, and for so long as you are faithful to me, I shall keep you safe.'

             
Did he think she would betray him?  Arabella pressed her face against his shoulder as he lifted her in his arms to carry her to the bed they shared.

             
She would be a fool to do so.  Besides, there was no one she liked sufficiently, no other man who could compare to Gervase.  At least…but she must never think of Harry Sylvester.  Harry had lied to her, deserted her, and married another.  Surely she did not still care for him?

             
Why should she when Gervase's loving was so satisfying?  She had all she could possibly want of life.  She would be a fool to throw it away for a man who had betrayed her.

* * *

The next morning Gervase took her to see the house he had bought for her.  It was a delightful Queen Anne cottage by the river and just twenty minutes drive in a carriage from his own home.  She was to have a full complement of servants to run it for her, a carriage and horses, and a settlement of ten thousand pounds.  The money was to be placed in trust for her, the income hers to spend as she chose, but if their arrangement ended by mutual consent, then she would be able to break the trust and use the capital as she pleased after a year had passed.

              'That is a huge sum,' Arabella said slightly overcome by his generosity.  Had she been his wife she could not have expected more.  'Are you sure you want to give me so much, Gervase?'

             
'I shall give you much more if you please me,' he said, one finger beneath her chin.  'I see no reason why we should not continue to be happy together for many years, Bella – but I shall not stomach unfaithfulness.  Remember that, for if you betray me our arrangement is at an end.'

             
'Why do you not trust me?' she asked, feeling a little hurt that he had thought it necessary to remind her yet again.  'There is no other I would look at, Gervase.  Why should I when you make me so happy?'

             
'Are you happy, my love?'

             
'You know I am.'

             
'And shall you be happy here in this house?'

             
'Yes…' she hesitated.  'Must I live here, Gervase?  I think I may miss you for I have been used to seeing you each morning as I wake. May I not continue to live at your house?'

             
Gervase laughed, amused by her confession, which seemed to confirm what he had begun to hope – that she truly cared for him, at least as much as she was able.

             
'It is expected that we have separate establishments,' he told her.  'But do not fear, I dare say I shall spend more time here than at my own house if you are here.  I do not care for that damned place.  I inherited it and though I have done much to lighten the atmosphere I still dislike it.  I believe we shall find true content here together, Arabella.'

             
His house held unhappy memories for him.  Were some of them to do with the clothes she had found in his closet?  After their return from Madame Suzanne's salon she had discovered that the gowns had been moved elsewhere, and the housekeeper told her they were in a trunk in the attic.  No amount of questioning brought an answer to her curiosity about their former owner, for Mrs Bumpstead simply did not know.

             
'It's a mystery to me as well as you, ma'am,' she said.  'His lordship keeps his secrets to himself – and you're the first lady he has ever brought to this house to stay.'

             
So Arabella had had to be content with that, for she did not dare to ask Gervase himself.  Clearly, the lady the clothes had belonged to was very precious to him.  That thought nagged at the back of Arabella's mind, for she did not think he could ever feel as much for her.  Oh, she knew that he desired her, was jealous of her, cared for her in his way – but he did not love her.  She had forfeited all chance or right to his love when she chose to lie with Harry Sylvester.