“ ‘Pretty’ is a very relative term,” he said. “To me you are very lovely, Arabella—even as you are. I will leave you now, as I can see that my presence makes you uncomfortable. And now that you have learned the steps of the waltz, will you reserve the first one for me at Almack’s on Wednesday?”
“If you wish it, my lord,” she said as he rose to his feet.
He smiled fleetingly. “Yes, I do wish it,” he said. He paused behind her chair, hesitated, and laid a hand lightly on her shoulder. “Arabella,” he said, “Ginny is no longer in my life. Neither is any other woman. Only you. Perhaps you can make of me a model husband after all.”
She neither moved nor replied. He continued on his way from the room.
Frances was indeed excited by the news that at last they would be able to attend the weekly ball at Almack’s. Her particular friend, Lucinda Jennings, would be there too, she said. Theodore would not. Only that fact clouded her mood somewhat. Not that she would miss his presence, of course, she explained to Arabella, when there were so many other gentlemen eager to dance with her. But it was sad to think that he had come all the way to town to enjoy the Season, yet was not to be in attendance at the most fashionable assembly of all.
Sir John Charlton would be there, of course. He had asked her to reserve the opening set and a waltz for him, she told Arabella when they were both in her dressing room an hour before they were to leave for the ball. Frances was still not sure that she had made the right decision in choosing her pink satin gown.
“Though it is still new,” she said, more to her reflection in the mirror than to her sister. “At least no one will have seen it before. But is pink the wrong color for me, Bella? Is it too pale when I am blond? Both Lady Berry and his lordship approved the color, but I am not sure. What do you think?”
“I think it is quite perfect,” Arabella said. “If it were a paler shade, perhaps you would be right, Frances. But it is such a rich color. And your hair is not dull, you know, as blond sometimes is. Yours gleams.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Frances said. “Do I have too many ringlets bunched at the sides of my head, do you think? Lady Berry said that the style is very fashionable, and indeed I have noticed that it is so. What do you think, Bella?”
“I think,” Arabella said, “that if I do not return to my own room soon, I shall be forced to leave for Almack's in this dressing gown. There is no arriving there late, you know. The doors close at eleven o’clock.”
“I do hope Sir John arrives on time,” Frances said. “How dreadful it would be, Bella, to have no partner for the opening set.”
Arabella was frowning as she hurried back to her own room. Frances had told her what Sir John had said to her at Vauxhall. And whereas Frances seemed quite convinced that the man had atendrefor her and was about to offer for her, Arabella was far more sure that he was involved merely in dalliance. Frances had not told her how he had tried to lure her from the main path, but Arabella had been able to put her own interpretation on the fact that he had left the box when the others were already far ahead and when Mr. Hubbard was too foxed to join them.
She shook off the thought as she allowed her maid to button up her blue silk dress. She wore it because she had been directed to do so, but she had to admit that she liked it. It was the least plain of all her dresses, the hem being caught up into delicate scallops, which were embroidered with tiny dark blue flowers. The sleeves had matching but even smaller decorations.
She had had to have the seams taken in slightly. And was it true, she wondered as she sat at her dressing table for her hair to be coaxed into soft curls, that she had looked better before she had started to lose weight? She had had a pretty figure, his lordship had said. But then, he had also said that she was very lovely to him, and that was clearly a bouncer. He was trying to coax her out of her anger with him, and he was doing it in a very unsubtle way. She was not going to believe him.
Besides, even if she did believe him, even if he had meant what he said, did it matter? Was Lord Astor’s good opinion of any importance to her now? She bent her head for her maid to clasp her pearls at her neck. These too she wore as a concession to duty. She had not worn them since removing them at the opera nearly a week before.
Arabella stood up at almost the same moment as a light knock on the door that adjoined her husband’s dressing room preceded his entry into hers. Her eyes widened in surprise. He had not entered her rooms for a week. She turned to dismiss her maid.
“Ah, yes,” he said when they were alone, “I knew you would look lovely in that gown, Arabella. That particular shade of pale blue complements your dark hair.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, fixing her eyes on his neckcloth and finding herself momentarily distracted by the intricacy of its design. Henry had outdone himself for the occasion.
“The pearls are not quite right, though,” he said, strolling toward her and examining them thoughtfully.
He reached his hands around to the back of her neck. It seemed an age before he finally had the pearls unclasped and held them in one hand. Arabella was very aware of the scent of his cologne. His neckcloth and the lace that half-covered his hands were a dazzling white. A diamond among the folds of the neckcloth gleamed in the candlelight.
“I do not have anything else suitable, my lord,” she mumbled.
“Do you not?” he said. “I will have to see what I can do about that. Turn around.”
She obeyed and looked down to examine her fingers, which were twining themselves into intricate formations against her gown.
“Ah, just the thing,” Lord Astor said, and her eyes caught the flash of jewels as his hands came over her head, placed something cold and heavy around her neck, and again grappled with a clasp at the back.
“What do you think?” he asked, taking her by the shoulders when he had finished and turning her back to the mirror.
They were sapphires, in an exquisitely delicate setting. Her hand went up to touch them. She did not say a word.
“There is a bracelet to match,” he said. “Draw on your gloves, Arabella, and I shall clasp it around your wrist.”
She obeyed, watching in silence as he completed the task.
“Let me look at you,” he said then, taking her by the shoulders and holding her at arm’s length. “Ah, yes. Lady Astor. Now you look quite grand enough to make your appearance at Almack’s.”
“Why?” she asked his neckcloth.
