Part 6 (1/2)

”Did you enjoy your evening, Arabella?” he had asked.

”Oh, yes,” she had said. ”Everyone sat and talked, my lord. There was no music and no dancing. And no cards either. There was a poet there whose latest volume recently created a stir, though I cannot recall his name at present or the name of the book. Frances found his poems quite affecting, but I must confess that I did not hear them. I talked with Lord Farraday.”

”Did you indeed?” he had said.

”Yes.” She had been smiling, watching George snuffling around the trees that were becoming familiar to him. ”He told me many stories about university and the sc.r.a.pes you and he and Mr. Hubbard got into. I have never laughed so hard in my life. It is amazing you never got into deep trouble, my lord.”

”I am glad you enjoyed yourself,” Lord Astor had said. ”Would you care to take my arm, Arabella?”

She had done so and been reminded of her very inferior stature. ”Did you enjoy yourself?” she had asked.

”I beg your pardon?” He had looked blankly down at her. ”Oh, at my dinner? Yes, thank you, Arabella, well enough.”

They had said very little else. When they had arrived home, she had gone down to the kitchen herself to restore George to his new quarters rather than send him with a footman and hear him whine every step of the way. His lords.h.i.+p had handed her a letter when she returned to the breakfast room. He had been smiling. He knew how much she loved to receive news from home.

The letter had contained little beyond the ordinary, though she had devoured its contents with great eagerness. But there had been one thing, and when she had looked up flushed and eager, it was to discover that his lords.h.i.+p was sitting quietly watching her.

”What is it, Arabella?” he had asked, amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice. ”Good news?”

”Theodore is coming,” she had said. ”Sir Theodore Perrot, that is. He is coming to town, Mama writes. How splendid!”

”I met him,” Lord Astor had said. ”He is the fair-haired and rather broad one?”

”Yes,” she had said, staring down at her letter, picturing Theodore coming to sweep Frances off her feet again. Dear, dependable Theodore, who would show Frances at a glance that he was twice the man Sir John Charlton was, or any of her other admirers. ”Dear Theodore.”

Lord Astor's eyebrows had risen. ”And when may we expect his arrival?” he had asked.

”I think any day,” Arabella had said, clutching the letter to her bosom and looking across at her husband, stars in her eyes. ”We may invite him here for dinner the day he appears? And we will take him to the theater with us and introduce him to our acquaintances and make sure he is invited everywhere? Please, my lord.”

He had lifted his cup of coffee and swallowed a mouthful before answering. ”It will be as you wish, Arabella,” he had said.

But her reaction had been calm in comparison with what Frances' would be, Arabella reflected now, realizing that she had written only a sentence since she had last bent her head over her paper. She blanked all thoughts, exciting and depressing, from her mind, dipped her pen in the inkwell, and wrote.

Frances' reaction to the news an hour later was not quite what Arabella had hoped.

”Theodore is coming?” she said blankly when Arabella ran forward, hugged her tight, and blurted out the news. ”Here, Bella? But why now?”

”Perhaps to enjoy the Season, you goose,” Arabella said. ”Perhaps to see you.”

”I do not see why he must come so soon,” Frances said. ”We have been here only two weeks, Bella. And Theodore and I are not betrothed.”

”I thought you loved him,” Arabella said bleakly.

Frances' eyes filled with tears. ”And so I do,” she said. ”But I have never had a chance to meet other gentlemen, Bella. Am I to have no chance to make a more eligible match? You have his lords.h.i.+p, and Melinda Sawyer says that all her friends consider you the most fortunate of ladies. Theodore is... well, he is just Theodore. I am fond of him. Oh, of course I am fond of him. But... Oh, I do not know what I think.”

”Perhaps when you see him again you will be more sure of your feelings,” Arabella said hopefully.

”Oh, I do look forward to seeing him,” her sister said, drawing a handkerchief from her pocket. ”Dear Theo. He is so faithful, Bella. How horrid and ungrateful of me to feel that I did not wish him to come.”

She hid her face behind the lace handkerchief and sank into the nearest chair.

A note was delivered to the house on Upper Grosvenor Street two mornings later asking if Sir Theodore Perrot might do himself the honor of calling on Lord Astor before luncheon. Arabella, who was in the breakfast room with her husband at the time, exacted a promise from him that he would bring Theodore up to her sitting room before he left, and flew from the room in high good spirits.

Lord Astor awaited his guest in his downstairs office. While he waited, he tried to make sense of certain estate doc.u.ments sent him by his bailiff at Parkland. He was determined to understand and become familiar with the workings of his property, perhaps even to spend part of the summer months there.

He had been puzzled and made a little uneasy by Arabella's enthusiastic reaction to the news that Perrot was on his way to London. He recalled the man as a friend of his wife's family, someone he had characterized as a quiet, solid, dependable citizen. Although there had been no open sign of affection, he had drawn the conclusion for some reason that there was an attachment of sorts between the man and Frances.

And it seemed a reasonable a.s.sumption. She was the eldest daughter and the loveliest. He seemed to recall, though he could not be sure of the fact, that Arabella had told him at the time of their betrothal that her older sister was to marry someone else. There seemed to be no one else in the neighborhood with whom she was more likely to have an understanding. It was a natural a.s.sumption that if Perrot did have an attachment to Frances, he would follow her to London and pay his respects at the home where she was staying.

Arabella's reaction to her mother's letter was not in any way inconsistent with that interpretation of facts. She was delighted, naturally, for her sister's sake. And she was delighted at the prospect of seeing a familiar face.

Lord Astor did not even know why he felt any unease at all. If Arabella felt any romantic attachment to Perrot, she would have hidden her delight, would she not? Or more likely she would not even have felt delight but dismay at having to face such a real reminder of her loss. And if the man felt any tendre for her, he would surely not pursue her to town after her marriage and present himself at her husband's home.

He was quite foolish even to think such thoughts, Lord Astor had told himself more than once in the two days since the letter had arrived. And it was equally foolish to wonder what she had found to talk about for a whole evening with Farraday. Or why she had looked so glowing the day before when she had come home from a ride with the lame Lincoln. Or why she had agreed to drive in the park with the gangly youth a day or so before thata”he never could think of the boy's name.

And yet she never seemed particularly to enjoy his company.

And why should he care anyway? Lord Astor asked himself in some puzzlement. Arabella was no beauty, no great prize. He had married her purely for convenience. Indeed, he had not even chosen her himself. Their marriage had brought him neither close companions.h.i.+p nor great sensual bliss. It had brought nothing more than worries and responsibilities, in fact. He should be glad if she did attach herself to other men, provided that she was discreet and aroused no gossip or scandal, of course.

Yet, strangely, he had to admit, he wanted Arabella to like him. And he was not at all sure that she did. She never deliberately avoided him. She always spoke to him if he initiated a conversation; she always took his arm when invited to do so; she always accompanied him where he wished to take her, provided she had no previous engagement. But those facts proved only that she was an obedient wife. She had said from the start that she would be so.

She never s.h.i.+rked her duty in bed. She never feigned sleep, though occasionally he had gone late to her and approached her bed quietly, ready to leave if she were not awake. But always she opened her eyes and smiled up at him. And he could not understand his own enjoyment of those brief and dispa.s.sionate encounters with his wife. She offered herself to him only with a quiet and uncomplaining compliance with his will. He did not know how she felt about receiving him, except that on that one occasion when he had offered to leave if she were very tired, she had told him that she wished to make him comfortable.

He had begun to be a little unfair to her perhaps. He had begun to prolong his encounters with her so that he might feel her warm little body beneath his own for more minutes than was necessary. Yet she held herself open to him and made no protest and gave no sign that she knew what he was about.

It made no sense when he had Ginny with whom to do whatever the pa.s.sions of his body urged him to do. And Ginny was beautiful and voluptuously formed.

Lord Astor pushed the unread doc.u.ments to the side of his desk and got restlessly to his feet at almost the same moment as his butler knocked on the door and opened it to announce the arrival of Sir Theodore Perrot.

He was as Lord Astor remembered him: not any taller than himself, but solid in build and upright in bearing; his very fair hair already thinning, though he could not be past his mid-twenties; his complexion florid; his eyes steady and gray. He thanked the viscount for receiving him, asked after the health of Lady Astor and Miss Wilson, and requested permission to wait upon them when convenient.

Lord Astor took him immediately to his wife's sitting room, where he found both her and Frances sewing. They both rose when he entered and ushered in his visitor.

Arabella swept toward them, her hands extended in greeting, her face lit up with a smile. ”Theodore!” she cried. She stopped when her hands were in his, the length of her arms between them. Lord Astor had thought that she was going to rush straight into his arms. ”How perfectly splendid to see you. It has been an age. Where are you staying? Are you quite comfortable there? You must come to dinner tonight. You will come? And here is Frances, and I have been prattling and stopping you from speaking with her.”

He squeezed her hands, his stiffness of manner noticeably relaxing. ”h.e.l.lo, puss,” he said with a chuckle. ”Do you still talk as much as ever? h.e.l.lo, Frances.” He turned from Arabella and held out a hand to her demure sister.

Frances curtsied but did not seem to notice his outstretched hand. ”How do you do, Theodore?” she said. ”I trust you had a pleasant journey from home.”

Arabella linked an arm through his and drew him across the room to sit beside her on a love seat. ”We have been waiting with the greatest impatience,” she said, ”have we not, Frances? We thought you would never come after you had sent that note to his lords.h.i.+p two days ago, and this morning has been interminable. You have not answered any of my questions yet. And I have a thousand more. Do you not think that Frances and I look very grand in our new frocks? They are quite up to the minute, I do a.s.sure you. Though, of course, I am the one to benefit more. Frances always looks perfect whatever she wears. I have had my hair shorn. Do you like it? Did you know that his lords.h.i.+p sent for George and Emily for me? George lives in the kitchen, and I swear he will get fat if Cook does not stop feeding him so many sc.r.a.ps. I scolded her for it just this morning.”

It was as he had guessed, Lord Astor thought as he stood silently close to the door, his hands clasped behind his back. Frances was very conscious of the new arrival, even though she had scarcely looked up at him and had spoken hardly a word. And Sir Theodore was looking at her quite as much as he looked at Arabella, despite the fact that he dealt with her prattle and answered her with the greatest good humor.

And Arabella was excited merely because she had grown up with this man as a neighbor and friend and was very familiar with him. She had no tendre for him.

Lord Astor's eyes came to rest on his wife's hand, which was patting the sleeve of Sir Theodore Perrot's coat. He looked up at her eager expression and her sparkling eyes, which were directed wholly at the visitor.