Lord Astor threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Arabella,” he said, “if we were watching a murderer being hanged at Tyburn, you would probably call him a poor man and find some excuse for his behavior.”
“And so I should,” she said. “People’s troubles are not a laughing matter, you know.”
He continued to laugh, though rather more gently. He took her hand in his and laid it on his sleeve. “Ah, the play is about to begin,” he said.
Arabella was somewhat offended, assuming that he was laughing at her childish notions. How very naive and countrified her ideas must appear to him. She sat quietly through the first act of the play, enjoying the farce, but very aware of his sleeve and muscled arm beneath her hand. He might laugh at her as much as he wished, but she was not going to allow her evening to be spoiled. For once she was feeling happy to be with her husband, proud to be seen with him, contented to sit quietly at his side, feeling his closeness.
In fact, Arabella was beginning to realize that she was growing to like her husband and growing to believe that at least he did not hate her or have any violent aversion to her person. He could not admire her greatly, of course, but he did not avoid her.
Her greatest wish was that he should grow to like her. She would be happy if he liked her. She was not positively ugly. Her short curls and the fashionable clothes she now wore were becoming, and her face was beginning to lose some of its childish roundness now that she had shed a few pounds. And other people accepted her as an equal. Surely if she could make an effort to overcome her shyness and talk to her husband more often, she could persuade him to like her.
“The play is very humorous, is it not, my lord?” she asked, turning and smiling politely at her husband. “And the acting is quite accomplished.”
“Mm,” he said, patting her hand lightly and keeping his eyes on the stage. He laughed at something one of the actors said.
“I think it must be very difficult to act convincingly,” Arabella said, “and to remember all of one’s lines.”
Lord Astor, Frances, Theodore, and indeed the entire audience with the exception of Arabella burst into loud laughter. Arabella bit her lip.
When the interval came, she was delighted at the arrival of Lord Farraday at their box, even though he brought with him Sir John Charlton. Theodore, with his solid, dependable strength, showed up to great advantage in contrast to the latter gentleman, she thought, and Frances must surely see it. Arabella was relieved when Lord Farraday began talking to Lord Astor. Her attempts at conversation with her husband had been somewhat labored.
Mr. Browning arrived to pay his respects, and she beamed and chattered happily with him for all of ten minutes.
She turned with flushed face and glowing eyes back to her husband at the end of the ten minutes. She was glad that friends she liked had come to talk with them. But how lovely it was to know that when they left, his lordship remained at her side for the rest of the evening. She was very glad he was her husband, for all her shyness with him.
Lord Astor sat with his eyes directed toward the stage ready for the second act. He did not look up as Arabella took her seat beside him or offer his arm to her.
Chapter 9
ALONE in her own bedchamber later, Arabella was singing quietly and wordlessly to herself. She was feeling very happy. The play had been entertaining, they had enjoyed good company, and Theodore had promised when they had conveyed him back to his hotel that he would call on them the following afternoon so that the four of them could drive out to the botanical gardens at Kew.
And the day was not yet over. She still had her husband’s visit to look forward to. He would surely come, as he was at home and knew she had only just retired. She would have him for several minutes more, all to herself, in the intimate act of marriage, which she was growing to enjoy. Soon—but she would not spoil the day by thinking of that embarrassment now—she was going to have to find a way to tell him that he could not visit her for five nights. Within the next few days that was bound to happen unless she was increasing. But it seemed that was unlikely to happen in the very first month of her marriage. She must not expect it too soon, and then she would not be disappointed to find that it was not so.
In the meantime there was tonight to enjoy. Arabella took off her dressing gown and climbed into bed. She did not want his lordship to find her still up. She would not know what to do if he did. She lay on her back, her eyes on the door that led to her dressing room and his.
She smiled at him in her usual way when he came. And she knew immediately that this day had one more delight in store—yet something she had never considered a delight before. He sat down on the edge of her bed as he did very rarely. Usually he took off his dressing gown immediately and snuffed the candles.
“You enjoyed the evening, Arabella?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, my lord,” she said. She smiled at him again. It was impossible to put into words for him the warm feeling about the heart that just thinking back over the evening gave her.
“You seem to have made several friends already,” he said.
“Yes,” she agreed. “People are very kind. Lord Farraday is a very dear person. I am glad you had him for a friend at university. And Mr. Browning likes me, I think, because I am younger even than he and am not pretty enough to tongue-tie him. I like him. He really has no need to be so shy.”
“And Sir Theodore Perrot,” he said. “He was a particular friend?”
“We grew up with him,” she said, her expression eager. “He is seven years older than I, so to me he was always a big hero. A knight in shining armor.”
He smiled rather stiffly down at her and said nothing for a while. “Do you wish you were still at home, Arabella?” he asked. “When the Season is over, would you like to spend the summer at Parkland?”
His meaning was unclear. She did not know if he intended to pack her off home with Frances while he remained in London or went elsewhere, or whether he intended to go with her. She swallowed rather painfully.
“If you wish it, my lord,” she said. “I shall do whatever you say.”
“Are you not homesick?” he asked.
“I miss Mama and Jemima,” she said. “But my home is with you, my lord.”
