Sarah Mallory - His Countess For A Week

‘I need to tell my maid what has occurred,’ Arabella protested, but the Earl shook his head at her.

‘I am sure my lady’s footman can explain everything.’ He glanced a question at their hostess, who nodded. He continued smoothly, ‘You must not exert yourself any more than necessary. As your husband, I must insist, my dear.’

His smile was gentle, but she saw the gleam of laughter in his eyes and fumed in silence until the footman came back with her fur-lined cloak. The Earl took leave of the company, saying all that was proper, and Lady Meon insisted upon accompanying them to the door. As they crossed the hall, she gave a little laugh and touched the Earl’s arm.

‘My parties here are not quite as uneventful as I made out, my lord, I assure you.’

The lady spoke very quietly and Arabella had to strain to hear.

‘I would not for the world wish to offend my neighbours,’ Lady Meon continued, ‘but as you have seen, they are not the sort one would wish to make known to more...er...worldly friends. They would be shocked by our late nights and deep play, so it is best that they do not come. However, if you should be at Beaumount the next time I have house guests, be assured you would be most welcome.’ Arabella did not miss the slight pause before her final words. ‘And your dear lady, of course.’

‘I thank you, madam,’ he replied easily. ‘We should be glad to join you. On our next visit.’

They had reached the door and Arabella could see a dusty travelling coach waiting on the drive. Another moment and she would be alone with the Earl in that confined, dark interior.

Don’t go, Arabella. Say something, now!

There was still time. She might throw herself upon Lady Meon’s mercy, but something held her back. The Earl had taken her hand, but his touch was light, supportive rather than keeping her a prisoner. Perhaps it was foolish, but Arabella trusted him far more than she trusted her hostess. She swallowed down her nerves and managed to mutter a word of thanks before he escorted her down the steps and into the waiting carriage.

Arabella pressed herself into one corner, clutching her cloak tightly about her. To her relief, Lord Westray made no attempt to question her, or even to touch her, for the short journey back to Beaumount. They travelled in silence, and when they arrived, he helped her down and pulled her hand firmly on to his arm to guide her up the steps and into the house.

Meavy opened the door and did not appear in the least surprised to see them. He beamed, bowed, and when His Lordship declared they would take refreshments before retiring, he sent a footman running to light the candles in the drawing room and to build up the fire.

To Arabella’s stretched nerves, the period since leaving Meon House and arriving at Beaumount had seemed interminable, yet it had not been long enough for her to gather her thoughts. It had been madness to come back here with the Earl. As they made their way to the drawing room, questions raced through her head. What was she going to do? What was she going to tell him?

The servant withdrew, closing the door behind him. Arabella walked across to the fire to warm her hands. The Earl poured a glass of wine and handed it to her.

‘Apart from meeting you, madam, I have to say I found nothing untoward at Meon House tonight. The lady’s guests appeared to be respectable people.’

‘I am sure they are,’ she replied. ‘It would seem Lady Meon is at pains to keep her neighbours and her house guests apart. No one would admit it outright, of course, but more than one of the ladies gave the impression that they disapproved of the house parties at Meon House.’

‘Unsurprising, if they were not invited,’ he remarked. ‘I suggest you sit down and tell me what this is all about.’

She subsided into a chair. Time to decide what to tell him, and how much.

The Earl sat down facing her and said, as if reading her thoughts, ‘It would be best if you told me everything.’

‘I did not know you were in England.’

‘I arrived in Portsmouth a few days ago. Not many people know yet that I am in the country.’

She was about to ask another question, but he caught her eye, the warning in his own very clear. He would not allow her to digress. She took a deep breath.

‘At the end of June, my husband, George, returned from a visit to Devonshire, where he had been staying with friends. He was very ill and he died within weeks. He was in a bad way, raving that he had been ill-used. Robbed and poisoned. I thought at the time that he was delirious, but later, I discovered that he had spent thousands of guineas in a matter of months. You see, the marriage settlement had been drawn up in such a way that upon my husband’s death, the money invested in Funds reverted to me. I knew exactly how much it had been upon our marriage and I was shocked to see how it was depleted.’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘George was young and...and impressionable. I think he fell in with a bad crowd who tried to take all his money, but I do not know who they are. All I know is that he had been invited to stay at Meon House.’

‘One moment.’ He stopped her, frowning. ‘Why did he not take you with him?’

‘We had only just married.’

‘I would have thought that all the more reason to be together.’

She blushed, partly out of guilt because she had thought that, too.

‘It was only a small party, a few friends meeting up for gambling and a little sport. I should not have enjoyed it.’ George had told her as much, had he not? And he knew best; she had never questioned that. She said now, with a touch of defiance, ‘He was obliged to go because he had promised his friends, but I know he would have preferred to stay at home with me. He told me so.’

What George had not told her was that Meon House had no master. It had been an unpleasant surprise for her to discover its mistress was a widow. Even worse that she was a lively and attractive widow. Arabella had wondered more than once since arriving at Beaumount if jealousy was clouding her judgement of Lady Meon.

The Earl was speaking again and she dragged her thoughts back.

‘Do you believe it was these friends who took your husband’s money?’

‘Someone took it! From what he told me, before he died, Lady Meon lures unwary young gentlemen to her remote house and—and fleeces them.’ She frowned. ‘She most likely drugs them, too, so they know not what they are doing.’

‘That is a serious accusation. If it is true.’

‘I know. That is why I need to find some proof!’

‘And why you set yourself up as Lady Westray.’

‘Yes. I had read in the newspaper that the old Earl had died and that his heir was in the Antipodes and not expected to return for some time. By chance I noticed that one of the Earl’s properties was near Tavistock. It took only a little further investigation to show it was very close to Meon House.’

‘How convenient for you.’

She raised her head and continued with a hint of defiance.

‘I was determined to discover the truth and this was the perfect opportunity. Having lived in Lincolnshire my entire life, I thought it would be safe enough to masquerade as someone else. No one would know me.’ She added quickly, ‘Please do not blame anyone in your household for being taken in by my deception, my lord. I was very convincing.’

‘What exactly did you do?’

‘I turned up at the door. Told them your letter must have gone astray and that you would be following me to Devon shortly.’

He gave a shout of laughter. ‘The devil you did!’

She lifted her chin higher. ‘I gave Meavy a purse when I arrived, to cover any expenses I incurred while staying here, since you had not yet made arrangements with the bank. That helped to convince him I was genuine.’