Part 28 (2/2)
Shortly before eight o'clock, their carriage rolled to a halt before the Farthingale mansion. Arabella was staring dully out the window in the opposite direction.
”We've arrived,” Justin stated flatly.
A footman opened the door and a.s.sisted her out.
Not a word had pa.s.sed between them in the carriage. The tension was stifling. Justin was cool and distant; he'd said barely a word since the incident in the study.
In all her days, she didn't know when she'd been so miserable. Pride alone stayed her tears, sheer willpower her trepidation.
They had no sooner set foot inside the ballroom than they were immediately surrounded. There were congratulations and well-wishes - but off to the right, someone smirked.
”Aren't you the lucky gent, to succeed with The Unattainable where the others failed, eh, Sterling?”
Oh, and to think she'd been convinced she would never be called The Unattainable again!
Beside her, Justin gave an easy laugh. He made a great show of curling her hand possessively into his elbow and covering it with his. ”Ah, but my wife is no ordinary woman. I knew I must get her to the altar as fast as I could - and so I did.”
”Why, whatever do you mean, McElroy?” cried a female voice. ”There are many of us who wonder how she managed to capture the handsomest man in all England!”
There was an answering snicker from a beauteous blonde dressed in green. ”Perhaps the better question is how she will manage to keep him!”
An elegant turbaned head turned in the direction of both women. There came the distinct thump of a cane. ”A pity that has escaped your own marriage,” proclaimed a familiar voice. ”Why, I've heard it said *tis a marvel you and your beloved still manage to recall each other's names. Furthermore, had you been given the privilege of witnessing their first kiss as husband and wife - as I was - I daresay not a soul here would presume to question their devotion to each other.”
Arabella blinked. A part of her wanted to applaud the Dowager d.u.c.h.ess of Carrington. Another part of her wanted to march over to the beauteous little blonde and b.l.o.o.d.y her pretty little nose - hardly a ladylike reaction.
Her gaze slid to Justin's features, only to discover one dark brow hiked in wicked amus.e.m.e.nt. He gave a little salute to the d.u.c.h.ess, then lowered his mouth to her ear. His lips brushed the curve of her cheek as he spoke for her benefit alone. ”I would suggest another demonstration is in order, but that was well said, was it not? Besides, who better to have as our staunchest defender than the Dowager d.u.c.h.ess of Carrington, eh, my love? Now, what say we greet our host and hostess?”
Arabella bit her lip as they walked away. ”She's outrageous.”
”And revels in it, too,” he agreed. ”If ever there's a woman to have as your champion, it's the d.u.c.h.ess.” He laughed softly. ”She wields her cane like a weapon. It's a sight unlike any other. I give you fair warning, Arabella, should you see it come up, leap back and stand clear.”
”Her cane?” Arabella queried. ”I rather thought it was her tongue she wielded like a weapon.”
”That, too, and between them, you understand why few dare challenge such a formidable opponent.”
”Well, I like her,” Arabella announced.
”Yes, I do believe you two are rather alike,” Justin observed.
Justin remained at her side throughout most of the evening. To all appearances, he no doubt presented a thoroughly attentive husband, for he retained a possessive hand at her elbow, bending his head close whenever she spoke, as if he hung upon her every word.
But neither had forgotten the argument that preceded their arrival. She sensed it with everything she possessed, and it made her ache inside. She longed for the closeness that had marked their week in Bath. To make matters worse, for the life of her, she couldn't explain her behavior, not even to herself! She had no idea what had made her cry, only that something had.
She managed to maintain her composure, however. The muscles of her face began to ache from smiling, but above all, she had no intention of causing further gossip.
Lord Farthingale approached. ”May I steal your husband away for a moment? I'm sharing a bottle of my best brandy with several of the gentlemen and I should like to offer a toast to the happy groom.”
Ah, if he only knew, Arabella thought half-hysterically. Lightly she said, ”Who am I to keep you gentlemen from such an occasion?”
Farthingale grinned. ”I shan't keep him away long, I promise.”
Arabella chatted with several acquaintances, then moved to stand near a marble column at the far side of the ballroom. It was then she spotted Georgiana, who gave a wave and joined her.
”Arabella! How are you?” Georgiana laughed. ”Oh, I confess it seems so odd to
think of you as a married lady now!”
Arabella wanted to scream, certain she could not endure one more comment about her new marital state.
But she gave herself a mental kick. Georgiana was the one person who would know something was amiss if she was not careful.
”I may be married,” she said lightly, ”but I hardly consider myself a matron.”
Georgiana frowned. ”I say, are you feeling quite the thing?”
”Splendid,” Arabella lied cheerfully, ”though it has been a very full day. We only arrived back from Bath at noonday, you know.”
They chatted for some time, and made plans to go shopping next week. It had been quite a while and
Justin still hadn't returned. Arabella scanned the ballroom.
Georgiana saw and laughed. ”Such an anxious bride,” Georgiana teased. ”There he is.”
Arabella frowned. ”Where?”
”Coming this way*Oh, but now I see Lady Dunsbrook has stopped him.”
Arabella's heart seemed to trip. ”Agatha Dunsbrook?”
”Yes. I didn't know the two of you were acquainted.”
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