Strangely, Arabella felt no inadequacy at all when in the presence of her far lovelier sister. She was always too busy feeling proud of Frances. And so her manner quickly became relaxed and unselfconscious. She smiled about her with the greatest goodwill and talked to everyone without first stopping to consider whether she had anything of interest to say. And Lady Berry was proved right. It seemed that the new viscountess and her sister would take very well.
Arabella was delighted to see Lord Farraday again. And she was not mistaken in her first impression of him. He was remarkably amiable. She felt quite as comfortable after a few minutes of conversing with him as she did with Theodore at home.
“Did you find your mother and grandmother this afternoon?” she asked him.
“Yes, I did,” he said cheerfully. “And I was entirely to blame for losing them, of course. I got caught up in examining some old armor, they wandered off chattering nineteen to the dozen without even noticing I was not with them, got themselves lost, and I was to blame.”
Arabella laughed.
“I have a family of nothing but females,” he said. “Three sisters. All older than I. All tyrants. All expect me to be at their beck and call, and all complain that I am underfoot when I am.” He grinned.
“I have a mother and two sisters,” Arabella said, “but then, of course, I can see things from their point of view, being female myself. If I had had a brother, I think I would have made much of him.”
“I shall have to present you to my female relatives,” he said, still grinning. “They are all expecting me to marry. When I do, I shall probably produce five daughters. And love them too.”
“Ah, Farraday,” a somewhat languid voice said. “How are you, my good fellow? I have not set eyes on you for a veritable age. This is understandable, of course, since I have been rusticating. I do not believe I have had the pleasure.”
Arabella found herself being regarded by a tall gentleman, his handsome face somewhat marred by a cynical twist of the lip. He was fingering a quizzing glass.
“How d’ye do, Hubbard?” Lord Farraday said. “I have been wondering when we would see you again. Ma’am, may I present Mr. Hubbard, another university friend of Astor’s and mine? Lady Astor, Hubbard.”
Mr. Hubbard sketched an elegant bow and raised one eyebrow. “Astor’s bride?” he said. “I did not know he had tied the knot. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”
He did not sound remarkably pleased, Arabella thought. She curtsied and smiled. “You are my husband’s friend too?” she asked. “I am pleased to meet you, sir. And you have recently come from the country? Is it not lovely at this time of the year? I am truly glad I was there during March to see all the spring flowers. Have you seen his lordship since returning? He is over by the door. I am sure he would be delighted to talk with you.”
“I shall stroll that way,” he said, turning and walking away without another word.
Arabella looked at Lord Farraday.
“A sad case,” he said. “Mrs. Hubbard left him a year ago, taking their son with her. He has not been able to recover from the blow, though he pretends.”
“Oh, poor man,” Arabella said, turning to look at the retreating figure of Mr. Hubbard. “How could anyone do anything so cruel? Oh, the poor man.”
“He will not thank you for saying so,” Lord Farraday said.
Lord Astor had been invited to join a table for cards in one of the salons. He would normally not have hesitated, as card playing had been one of his favorite pastimes for years. He had never been in the habit of playing very deep, as until recently he had had no great fortune to lose. And he had discovered since he did that his playing had lost some of its charm. Other men expected him to bet more rashly now that he had the money with which to do so, and yet at the same time he became aware of some of the responsibilities of owning a large fortune and having an equally large number of persons dependent upon him for their very life.
A card salon at a respectable soiree, of course, was not the sort of place in which whole fortunes were likely to change hands. It was not the fear of loss or worse—the fear of losing all rational common sense that had made him hesitate. Rather, he felt obliged to stay in the drawing room for at least half an hour to make sure that Arabella was well-established and did not need his arm to cling to. She could be such a shy little thing. He had feared for her first appearance in polite society.
“Later,” he had told the acquaintance who had asked him to play cards. “I shall play the next hand.”
And he watched Arabella, who was glowing with excitement or fright or some emotion that had helped her through the ordeal of being promenaded around the room by Aunt Hermione and was now aiding her in conversing with various guests. Her mouth appeared to be moving almost constantly and at a rapid rate.
He was pleased. If only she could acquire a circle of friends and acquaintances and enough courage to face new people wherever she went, then he would be released from this sense of responsibility for her that had plagued him for three days. He could begin to live his own life again, confident that he was not cruelly neglecting a lonely and cowering wife at home.
The day before had been quite satisfactory, of course, except that he had felt obliged to sit at home all evening, having busied himself about his own pleasures all day. And then he had felt sorry he had done so because Arabella had said hardly a dozen words all evening and he had been left to make himself agreeable to Frances. And despite the early night they had all had, he had not gone to Arabella. He had wanted to, strangely enough, and had even prepared himself to go. He had twice had his hand on the knob of the door that led from his dressing room into hers. But he had not gone. He had tired himself out with Ginny that afternoon, he had told himself.
Today had been somewhat tiresome. He had spent a pleasant-enough morning at Jackson’s with a large group of friends and had lunched with several of them at White’s. They had tried to persuade him to go to the races with them in the afternoon, but he had promised on pure impulse at breakfast to take Arabella to the Tower to see the royal menagerie. And of course he had been teased. Life sentences and leg shackles had been the main topic of loud conversation and laughter for all of five minutes before he had left White’s. And then there had been the obligation to appear at tonight’s entertainment. He supposed that he would be there even if he had not married Arabella, but he would by now be comfortable and conscience-free in the card salon.
“Astor!” a voice said as a hand clamped down on his shoulder. “I have not seen you for a veritable age. I had no idea you had taken on a life sentence, old chap. My commiserations.”
“How are you, Hubbard?” Lord Astor asked. “Did I see you talking to my wife a moment ago?”
“Farraday presented me,” Mr. Hubbard said. “She seems like a fetching little thing, I must confess.”
“Thank you,” Lord Astor said dryly. “I am a fortunate man, I believe.”
“She is young,” his friend said, raising his quizzing glass to his eye and looking through it at Arabella, who was now conversing with two ladies as well as with Lord Farraday. “Straight from the cradle, Astor? Wise of you, old boy. You would do well to train her to obedience before she develops a mind of her own.” Lord
