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 anytendrefor 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 that—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 companionship 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 shirked 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 dispassionate 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 passions of his body urged him to do. And Ginny was beautiful and voluptuously formed.
Lord Astor pushed the unread documents 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. “Hello, puss,” he said with a chuckle. “Do you still talk as much as ever? Hello, 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 lordship 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 assure 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 lordship 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 scraps. 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 notendrefor 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.
No, there was nothing flirtatious in her manner. But it was perfectly clear that she liked this man very well indeed and felt thoroughly easy in his presence.
He could not expect that she would be as easy and as friendly with him yet. They had been acquainted for only a month before their marriage, and they had been wed for less than three weeks. It would take time to win her friendship and trust. In time perhaps she would look at him as she was looking now at their guest, and talk to him like that without suddenly breaking off with blushing cheeks and downcast eyes.
But did it matter anyway? She was only Arabella. He would not have afforded her a second glance if he had not been honor-bound to marry her. He strolled farther into his wife’s sitting room.
“Arabella has not given you a chance to accept our invitation to dinner, Perrot,” he said. “Will you come? I am hoping that the ladies will be free to go to the theater tonight. Perhaps you would care to join us too?”
“Oh, will you, Theodore?” Arabella asked, looking up into his face anxiously. “Do say yes. Frances, tell Theodore that he must say yes.”
Arabella felt very proud that evening to be seated in her husband’s box at the theater with her sister and two of the most handsome gentlemen of her acquaintance. Theodore and his lordship had conversed with each other with great ease at the dinner table, as if they had been friends all their lives, and Frances had looked her loveliest in green. Arabella had not contributed much to the conversation, but she had felt unusually relaxed.
And now she sat next to her husband, their shoulders almost touching, a warm feeling of pleasure and anticipation lifting her spirits.
“Have you seen the exquisite down below, Arabella?” he asked, leaning toward her so that her shoulder was against his arm.
“Which one?” she asked. “I do not like looking down there, my lord, for I find those gentlemen very rude. Several of them watch all the boxes through their quizzing glasses.”
“But you simply must look at the one all in lavender,” Lord Astor said. “Even his hair and his stockings, Arabella.”
She looked down into the pit and saw immediately the gentleman referred to. “Oh, the poor gentleman!” she said. “His mother must not have loved him, my lord, that he has to draw attention to himself so.”
