Sarah Mallory - His Countess For A Week

‘Very well. I will go with you, Lord Westray.’

‘How formal that sounds.’ He grimaced. ‘Very well, then. Let us take leave of our hostess.’

Arabella paused for a heartbeat. It was a risk to go off with this man, she knew that, but what choice did she have? She could confess everything and throw herself on the mercy of her hostess, but instinct told her not to trust Ursula Meon.

Did she trust the Earl of Westray? She looked at him again and realised that she did. She felt her world shift slightly, as if something momentous had occurred. It was irrational, illogical, but looking into his sea-blue eyes, she felt a connection, as if he would understand her. Nonsense, of course. Her thoughts were confused. She was still shaken, not yet recovered from her faint.

He held out his arm. ‘Madam, shall we go?’

Taking a deep breath, she put her fingers on his sleeve and allowed him to lead her back to the salon.

The party had grown rowdier in their absence and they entered to a confusion of chatter and laughter. The noise died as they walked in and Arabella felt as if every eye was turned towards her. She could not help clutching more tightly at the Earl’s arm. He put his hand over her fingers and squeezed them.

‘Do not be afraid to lean on me, my dear. I have you safe now.’

Arabella knew the caressing tone was as much for the benefit of the gathered company as for her. Lady Meon had flown out of her chair and was beside them, begging the Earl to bring his lady closer to the fire, asking if she could fetch her anything.

‘You might send for my carriage, madam,’ replied the Earl. ‘I would like to take my wife home.’

Home. Wife.

The words sent a chill through Arabella, dispelling the feeling of unreality that had possessed her since meeting the Earl. Common sense told her it was better to stay here, in company, rather than to leave with a stranger. To ride in a darkened coach with him and then to enter Beaumount. His house. As his wife. That would be foolhardy in the extreme. She needed time to think.

‘Oh, but I am so much better now, my lord,’ she said brightly. ‘Indeed, I am mortified that I should be so silly as to faint off. I beg your pardon and hope you will forgive me. I should dearly like to remain here for a little longer yet, at least until after supper—’

‘Alas, my love, I do not think that would be wise,’ the Earl interrupted her smoothly. ‘Lady Meon will understand, I am sure, that I want to have you to myself tonight.’

Arabella flushed at the inference, but she was also angered by the teasing note in his voice. It made her long to hit him.

‘Of course I understand, my lord.’ Lady Meon gave Arabella’s arm a playful tap with her fan. ‘You naughty puss, to tease him so, when I am sure you are just as eager to be away.’

The ladies were all smiling and nodding—one of the gentlemen even laughed. Arabella found herself blushing again, but she was not giving up just yet.

‘Naturally, I should like to be at home,’ she said sweetly, ‘and yet I think it would be better if I remained here, quietly, for a little while. Perhaps I might take a cup of tea before I leave.’ She turned her head to look up at the Earl and gave him a false, glittering smile. ‘That would also give my lord the opportunity to become acquainted with our new neighbours.’

His eyes gleamed appreciatively, acknowledging she had outmanoeuvred him.

‘As you wish, my dear, we shall stay a little longer.’

The tea tray was summoned and the Earl guided Arabella to a chair. She sat down, fanning herself, and watched through half-closed eyes as Lady Meon and her guests vied for Lord Westray’s attention.

There was no doubting their eagerness to become acquainted with the new Earl. Over the course of the evening she had learned that in recent times the Westray family had made little use of Beaumount. Everyone was aware of the present Earl’s history, but it made no odds to them. It was more important to be on good terms with their exalted neighbour than to worry about his past.

‘Do you intend to make this a long visit to Devonshire, my lord?’ asked Lady Trewen, wife of the local squire.

‘I hardly know, ma’am. A week, perhaps.’

‘There is good sport, sir, if you are a hunting man,’ declared her husband. ‘Plenty of fish and fowl to be had. And of course, fox and stag hunting. If you haven’t brought your own horses, I’d be happy to mount you on one of mine. I believe I have a couple that would be up to your weight.’

The Earl inclined his head. ‘Thank you, but I doubt we shall be in the area long enough for that. I have business in London that requires my attention.’

‘And your good lady is pining for society, I don’t doubt,’ said a bewhiskered gentleman. ‘You should come back in the spring or summer, my lord. Lady Meon’s house parties would be very much in your line, I am sure. Any number of young bucks from town come down, and lords and ladies, too. Ain’t that so, ma’am?’ He gave another hearty laugh. ‘Then my lady doesn’t have to rely upon country dwellers like ourselves to fill her drawing room!’

Lady Meon smiled and shook her head at him. ‘It is always a pleasure to invite my neighbours here, Mr Lettaford.’

Beneath her drooping lids, Arabella watched the exchange. The bonhomie was slightly forced. She had the impression the local families were not welcome at the Meon House parties and they resented it. She sat up a little and reached for the cup of tea that had been placed on the table at her elbow.

‘Goodness, ma’am,’ she exclaimed, ‘do people come all the way from London for your parties?’

‘It is not such a long way, Lady Westray,’ replied Mrs Lettaford, bridling in defence of her home. ‘There is a good road as far as Plymouth, because of the mail, and the roads around here are not as bad as some in the county. I am sure there would no inconvenience at all in travelling to the capital.’

‘Not that we have had any call to make the journey,’ added her husband. ‘We can find everything we need in Tavistock, or if not there, then in Plymouth.’

Mrs Lettaford glared at him before giving an angry titter. ‘Now, now, sir, Lord and Lady Westray will think we are all rustics living here.’

‘I can assure His Lordship that is not the case at all,’ purred Lady Meon, quick to soothe the ruffled feathers of her guests. ‘And it is true the road from London is a good one. My brother often comes to stay, but I confess we rarely entertain our neighbours when he is here.’ She gave a placatory smile. ‘He often brings his young friends, you see, who enjoy the break away from the constant social whirl of the capital. This is something of a repairing lease for them. We keep very much to ourselves, nothing very exciting at all.’

Arabella remembered George telling her much the same thing.

‘It is only a few close friends, my sweet,’ he had said. ‘It will be all cards and sport, neither of which interest you. You had much better remain in Lincolnshire, for you would not enjoy their company and there will be no other wives to chatter with. You would be bored within a day. Imagine then how I would feel, knowing you were not happy.’

In vain had she pleaded with him. He had merely pinched her cheek, told her he knew best and gone off, leaving her with his parents at Revesby Hall. If only she had insisted. If only.

She looked up to find the Earl was watching her.

‘You look tired,’ he murmured. ‘If you have finished your tea, my dear, perhaps we should take our leave?’

Arabella suddenly did feel fatigued. She could think of no reason to stay longer and she rose from her chair. When she suggested she would slip upstairs to fetch her cloak, Lady Meon said quickly she would send a servant to fetch it.