To Pleasure a Lady (28 page)

“I think he does care for me,” Arabella murmured.

Victoria nodded. “And he seems to be nothing like your father. Can you imagine Charles putting himself out for anyone like that?”

No, she couldn't imagine such a thing. Marcus was far, far different from her father.

Roslyn spoke up just then, her tone solemn. “Do
you
care for Lord Danvers, Arabella?”

She hesitated only a moment. “Very much.” She sent Lily an apologetic glance. “I vowed I wouldn't let myself fall in love with him, but in the end, I discovered I never had any choice.”

Lily regarded her solemnly, clearly troubled by her admission, but Roslyn smiled. “I only want you to be happy, Arabella. If you love him, that is all that matters.”

Lily, however, didn't agree. “That is not all that matters, Belle. You loved Underwood, and look how much he hurt you. I can't bear to see you make the same mistake again.”

“I know,” Arabella said fondly. “But Marcus says he loves me.”

“Underwood claimed he loved you, but he didn't. How can you be certain the earl is telling the truth?”

Arabella gave a light shrug. “I cannot be certain, so I will just have to trust him.”

Lily still wasn't convinced. “If you marry him, he could make you miserable like Papa did Mama.”

“I am willing to risk it.”

In truth, she could do nothing else. She fervently wanted the kind of soul deep love that Tess had spoken about. The kind her mother had found in her second marriage. She thought—hoped—she could have that love with Marcus. But even if he didn't love her, without a doubt, her life would be unbearably empty without him. She had learned that painful lesson during this past week.

“Lily…” Arabella began, wondering how she could explain her feelings. Finally, she merely smiled. “I intend to marry Marcus because I don't want to live without him. It is as simple as that.”

The anxious look in Lily's eyes wavered, then faded. “If that is what you truly want…”

“It is. I want it with all my heart.”

“Thank heavens,” Victoria murmured.

Arabella met her mother's smiling gaze, then took a deep breath as she felt her bravado wavering a measure.

Marrying Marcus might not be so simple as she had made it sound. After their acrimonious parting, he might very well wish her in Hades. She had angered him profoundly by not trusting him enough to believe his declaration of love, and angered him still further by rejecting his offer of marriage so adamantly.

But she would convince him to forgive her, Arabella vowed, even if she had to grovel. She would start by admitting that he had won their wager. She would make him understand that she had come to her senses. And if Marcus loved her half as much as she loved him, he wouldn't let her stubborn blindness stand in the way of their happiness together.

Chapter Eighteen

How does one grovel properly? I think I owe it to Marcus for frustrating him so.

—Arabella to Fanny

“What in blazes has come over you, Marcus?” Heath demanded after nearly being skewered by a flurry of angry thrusts during their Monday morning fencing session at Marcus's London town house.

Halting his ferocious attack, Marcus lowered his foil and stood breathing heavily.

From the sidelines, Drew stepped forward. “Why don't you call it a morning, old man? You are bloody dangerous with that blade.”

Marcus raked a hand through his hair. “My apologies, Heath. I should not have taken my frustrations out on you.”

“How good of you to realize it,” Heath drawled before adding more seriously, “I wish to hell you would find a cure for your ailment. You have been acting like a wounded wolf ever since you returned to London.”

“I know.” His mood had been foul since parting from Arabella, despite his fiendishly intense bid to work off his frustrations.

“Why don't you simply throw Miss Loring over your shoulder and carry her off somewhere?” Heath suggested. “If you had a month alone with her, surely you could convince her to accept your suit.”

That idea had merit, Marcus thought before shaking his head with sardonic humor. “I haven't quite reached the point of resorting to barbarism.”

“Well, you need to do something, old fellow, before you accidently exterminate us. You would regret it, I'm certain.”

“I expect I would.” Biting back a rueful grin, Marcus withdrew to the sidelines as Drew took the floor with Heath to resume fencing practice.

He would settle for abduction if he had to, Marcus knew, tossing his rapier on a table. He damned sure wasn't willing to admit permanent defeat in his courtship of Arabella. In fact, he was devising a new plan. His solicitors had drawn up the legal documents granting her and her sisters independence from his guardianship, but he hadn't sent them yet, since he was still determining how to use them to his best advantage.

Meanwhile, he was letting his temper cool. He had wanted to throttle Arabella last week when she refused to believe his declaration of love. He'd never made that startling confession to any woman before, and having it thrown back in his teeth along with his proposal had made his blood boil.

He still felt the urge to return to Danvers Hall and shake Arabella out of her stubborn blindness. She was making a grievous mistake, letting her past ruin her future. She would miss him, he had no doubt. Just as he missed the devil out of her—

The distant rap of the front door knocker intruded on Marcus's dark thoughts, but knowing his butler would answer it, he paid little attention until the sound of a familiar feminine voice followed. Marcus felt his stomach muscles clench.
Arabella
.

He suspected she had come to demand her emancipation but moved closer to the door, the better to hear.

Hobbs's forbidding voice floated down the corridor. “His lordship is otherwise engaged at present, Miss Loring.”

“Ah, yes, I can tell he is fencing again. But I believe he will receive me.”

There was a notable pause while Hobbs likely debated his chances of turning her away. Evidently he realized the futility of it. “If you will wait here, Miss Loring, I will inquire if his lordship is receiving at present.”

“We needn't stand on such ceremony, Hobbs…isn't it?” Arabella asked, her tone charming.

“Yes, madam, the name is Hobbs.”

“Well, Hobbs, you clearly do not approve of my calling at a bachelor's residence, and under ordinary circumstances I would agree with you. I assure you, I am usually
quite
proper. But in this instance, I have urgent business with Lord Danvers. And since he is my guardian, the infraction is not so very egregious, is it now?”

“Perhaps not,” the butler answered, stiff with resistance.

“Then you will allow me to see him?”

“Very well, Miss Loring, if you insist…you may follow me.”

“Oh, you needn't trouble yourself. I can find my way.” Her footsteps sounded on the marble entrance hall, then hesitated. “Hobbs?” she called. Marcus could picture her speaking over her shoulder. “You are to be admired for protecting your master's privacy. I will make certain he knows of your devotion.”

“Thank you, miss,” the butler replied, clearly exasperated.

A moment later Arabella appeared in the doorway. Although Marcus had braced himself, he felt his heart jolt at the welcome sight of her. As she paused to survey the room, heat and hunger stabbed through him. Then her gaze locked on him, and the hunger worsened.

Her expression was intensely focused, her gray eyes searching. After another heartbeat, though, she gave him a smile of such sweetness, such utter brilliance, that he felt dazed.

Arabella was the first to tear her gaze away and seek out his friends' attention. The marquess and duke had halted their practice in order to observe her.

She turned her bright smile on the two noblemen as she advanced into the room. “My lords, I hope you will forgive me for interrupting your fencing session yet again. You must think me very vexing.”

His grace, the Duke of Arden, lifted an eyebrow. “You do seem to be making a habit of intruding on our practice, Miss Loring.”

But the Marquess of Claybourne's response was more congenial. His eyes gleaming, Claybourne gave her a roguish smile. “It doesn't follow that the intrusion must be unwelcome. It is indeed a pleasure to see you.”

She glanced at Marcus briefly. “Would you mind terribly if I steal his lordship away for a few moments?”

The duke answered her. “You may speak to him here, Miss Loring. We were nearly finished anyway.”

Arabella was glad that the imperious duke seemed prepared to leave, for he was obviously not delighted she had come. She doubted she would be able to win over his opinion any time soon, even if she tried. Moving to the table, the duke returned his foil to its case and, after offering her a polite bow, strode from the salon. The marquess shrugged and followed suit but flashed her a charming grin as he passed.

Alone with Marcus, Arabella turned slowly to face him. He had said not a single word thus far, and she couldn't tell if that was an ominous sign or a propitious one. She only knew how she felt upon seeing him again: sheer happiness. That, and yearning. She wanted to fling herself into his arms. Wanted to press ardent kisses all over his dear, handsome face…

If she hadn't already realized the depths of her love for Marcus, being with him again after enduring a wretched week of despondency would have clarified her feelings.

She was keenly aware, however, that Marcus did not look happy to see her. Arabella gazed at him in uncertain silence, conscious of her thudding heartbeat brought on by a sudden case of trepidation. He was watching her soberly—not at all the welcome she had hoped for.

“So, sweeting, to what do I owe the honor of your visit this time?”

Arabella's heart sank at his impassive tone. Hesitantly, she stepped forward. “For one thing, I wished to thank you for seeking out my mother in France and bringing her home. You went to a great deal of trouble on our behalf, Marcus, and you have my gratitude, as well as that of my sisters.”

His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Your gratitude is unnecessary. I merely did my duty as your guardian—which doubtless is your real concern. If you're here to discover the status of your emancipation, you can set your mind at ease. The proper documents granting your independence have been prepared and only require my signature.”

She managed a smile. “Thank you, but that is not my chief reason for coming.”

“Then what is?”

“Actually…I am here to accept your proposal of marriage.”

The silence that met her declaration was profound. Several heartbeats passed before Marcus's eyes narrowed. “Did you find yourself with child, Arabella?”

Her own eyes widening, she felt a flush heat her cheeks. “No, I am not with child. My…courses came last week. But according to Fanny, the likelihood of my conceiving is small, since you and I were only together a few nights.”

Marcus's expression remained infuriatingly enigmatic. “Sometimes it takes but once for a man's seed to take root. And that would explain your willingness to accept my offer now when you refused so adamantly barely a week ago.”

“Well, that is not why I changed my mind about marrying you.” Arabella eyed him with misgiving. “I thought you would be pleased by my surrender.”

“It depends wholly on the reason.” Marcus crossed his arms over his chest, his stance the picture of resistance. “I told you, Arabella, I am not interested in a marriage of convenience.”

“Neither am I. I want a love match, just as you do.”

“Is that so?”

Feeling suddenly vulnerable, she clasped her hands together. “Yes. You were right, Marcus. I was acting out of fear. I was afraid to have my heart broken again, so afraid that I wouldn't risk loving you. But in the end I couldn't help myself.”

Some emotion flickered in his blue eyes but she couldn't read it. “So you are saying you love me.”

“Yes…I love you.”

He gave her a skeptical look while his arms remained firmly crossed. “Why should I believe you? Perhaps you've mistaken your feelings.”

Arabella shook her head, torn between exasperation and fear. Apparently Marcus wouldn't readily forgive her for rejecting him so soundly, but it frightened her to think he didn't care at all about her change of heart. “No, I have not mistaken my feelings. I love you, Marcus.”

“You will have to convince me.”

The words were a challenge and sounded more like the Marcus of old.

She offered him a nervous smile. “What must I do to convince you? I am willing to grovel, if you wish me to.”

When a glimmer of amusement finally lit his blue eyes, Arabella sucked in a sharp breath of hope.

“I think perhaps some amount of groveling is in order,” Marcus remarked. “After all the torment you put me through, you deserve to suffer a little.”

“I
have
suffered,” Arabella replied emphatically. “I felt utterly wretched from the moment you left. I missed you unbearably.” When he showed no further sign of yielding, she realized she would have to make him believe that she truly loved him. Her voice lowered to an imploring murmur when she continued. “Marcus, once you were gone, there was this great void in my life…in my heart.” Her fist closed over her breastbone. “I felt
empty
without you. I can't bear to live like that the rest of my life. I don't
want
to live without you. It
is
love I feel for you, Marcus,” she insisted, repeating the same words he had said to her a week ago.

When he didn't reply, Arabella searched his face. “You said you feel the same way. You said you love me.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “That was last week. Perhaps I've lost interest by now.”

She swallowed. “Perhaps you have. But I want to be your wife, even if you don't love me.”

It seemed, however, that he still wouldn't relent. “I'm afraid that isn't good enough.”

“What…do you mean?”

“I want your trust, Arabella, as well as your love.”

“I do trust you, Marcus.”

“Enough to believe me when I say I will remain faithful to you to the end of our days?” His eyes held hers intently as he waited for her answer.

“Yes.” She regarded him solemnly, understanding what he was asking. “You are not my father.”

When his expression softened with something resembling satisfaction, her heart at last started beating again in a more normal rhythm.

“I'm glad you realize it, angel.” He uncrossed his arms and strolled toward her. “Then I suppose I could consider marrying you.”

If not for the hint of laughter in his eyes, she would have been alarmed. But Marcus was provoking her on purpose, she knew. Relief coursing through her, she let herself smile. “You could
consider
it? What the devil do you mean? You have been after me to marry you for weeks now.”

“But I see no reason to rush now that you have finally capitulated.”

Her own eyes glimmering with faint amusement, Arabella placed her hands on her hips. “I think perhaps I have groveled enough.”

“I'm not so certain. I rather like this humble side of you.”

“You don't want a humble wife, you said so.”

“True, I don't. But I would be wise to hold out for better terms.”

“So now you want to negotiate the terms of our marriage?”

“What if I do?”

Arabella's gaze settled on the rapiers the noblemen had used for their fencing session. Moving over to the table, she picked up a foil, then advanced toward Marcus. “You should know better than to leave weapons lying around when you are deliberately provoking me.” She prodded his chest lightly with the tip. “You had best answer me now, Marcus. Will you marry me or not? I warn you, I may do you bodily harm if you refuse.”