“I can’t think she would,” Lord Farraday said. “Sweet little thing, Astor. How is it you were so fortunate? She don’t have a sister, I suppose? Apart from the beauty, I mean.”
Lord Astor grinned. “There is Jemima,” he said. “Fifteen years old and straight as a beanpole, Farraday. Something of a hoyden, by all accounts. And she has reddish hair. One would shudder to imagine what your children would be like. Shall I secure you an introduction?”
“No,” his friend said with a mock sigh. “I had in mind someone more like Lady Astor. She wouldn’t bully a fellow, would she? And always cheerful. She must be good to come home to. Mama is constantly coming up with likely prospects, managing females all of them. They would have me in leading strings before we left the church.”
Lord Astor laughed.
“There goes Charlton now,” Lord Farraday said, squinting his eyes and looking off to the roadway in the distance. “He must be going home. Whoever is that with him?”
Lord Astor shaded his eyes. “She is female, anyway,” he said. “I would lay a wager it is Arabella’s sister. And no maid or groom in sight. What a brainless girl that is, Farraday. She has no business being alone with him.”
“I say,” Lord Farraday said. “If he is taking her to his home, Astor, one or other of us should get along after them as fast as possible. Not a savory character is Charlton. Fancies himself. And is not above seducing young ladies he has no business seducing. It has happened before. Miss Wilson don’t strike me as a female of very strong character, if you will excuse my saying so.”
“Devil take it!” Lord Astor said. “I am on my way, Farraday. I can take care of this myself.”
And he cantered off, trying not to draw the attention of the other gentlemen. He could not follow directly after the distant phaeton, as there was still some marshy ground to be skirted beyond the reclaimed fields.
He really should not have been so careless about his charge of Frances, Lord Astor thought, not for the first time. The girl had taken very well with thetonand never lacked for friends and admirers. The connection with Charlton had seemed quite proper, even eligible. But it had been going on long enough that he should have found the opportunity to ask the man his intentions.
He had not known what he now knew, of course. He wished that Farraday had seen fit to warn him before now. But it was plain to common sense that Charlton was a vain and shallow man, very unlikely to have serious intentions toward someone like Frances. Clearly her beauty was the lure.
And now he was taking her, unaccompanied, to his own home. What on earth had induced the girl to go along with him? She must have windmills in her head. Did she not realize that she was probably being taken there to be seduced, perhaps even raped? He did not have any high opinion of Frances' character, but he did believe her virtuous. She would not willingly give in to seduction. Her only hope seemed to be that she would drown Charlton with her tears.
What a blessing that Farraday had spotted them, Lord Astor thought. How would he ever comfort Arabella if her sister was ruined? Not that Arabella would be the principal sufferer, of course, but it would be her suffering that would be his chief concern.
He wanted Arabella to be happy. He had only very recently realized that that had become his life's goal. She deserved happiness if only because other people's contentment always seemed more important to her than her own. He was convinced that she had offered to be the one to marry him—or his father, as she had thought—just so that the rest of her family could be secure and free to pursue their own happiness. And he had seen that several of her friendships were with people for whom she felt sympathy and whom she tried to help.
She deserved some happiness herself. He had known it with his heart the night before when he had found himself making love to her with no thought to his own satisfaction. That he had been far more deeply satisfied than he had with any woman before her had been an irony of the whole situation. He had wanted Arabella to know the full joy of physical love.
And that morning he had known it with his head. He had woken to find her curled up beside him, her cheek on one hand, the other cheek flushed, her top lip curving upward, her white teeth just showing beneath, and he had looked at her for a long time.
She had become very dear to him almost without his realizing the fact. She had been his wife for longer than a month, but he had been slow to acknowledge the fact that the relationship had changed his life. And far slower to admit that she was becoming the wife of his heart. He had fought and fought against the truth because it had always seemed to him that love was a trap, a prison that took away a man’s freedom to enjoy life.
But he had acknowledged it at last. Arabella had become far more precious to him than anything he had ever considered important to his life. And freedom to enjoy his life could mean something to him now only if he were free to make Arabella happy. And not just physically. He wanted to fill her whole life with love and joy, not just her bed. Unfortunately, he had no experience whatsoever in making another person happy. His life had been a very selfish one.
He was going to have to apologize to Arabella, grovel, get down on his knees at her feet if necessary. Would she forgive him? he wondered. And was he really sorry at last? Was he sorry for the cause as well as for the consequences?
Lord Astor’s horse reached the roadway at last and he turned its head in the direction the phaeton had been taking a few minutes before. He could no longer see it, but he could not be far behind. Charlton would not have a chance to proceed too far in his seduction scheme before he came up with them.
Arabella must be saved from suffering. He must impress upon Frances that her sister was not even to know about this episode.
Frances had been up unusually early, having been awakened by the brisk morning air blowing through a window that Bella’s maid had neglected to close the night before. She had been surprised to find that neither her sister nor any of her particular friends were yet in the breakfast room. Indeed, only a very few people were there, several of the gentlemen apparently having gone out riding.
Frances stepped out onto the lawn after breakfast in order to while away the time until someone else came downstairs. She breathed in the morning air in some enjoyment and wondered why she did not get up early more often.
“Ah, Miss Wilson. You are an early riser, I see.”
When Frances looked back, it was to see Sir John Charlton striding toward her.
“Good morning, sir,” she said. “I thought all the gentlemen had gone out riding together.”
“I have been home already,” he said, “to fetch my phaeton for your convenience. I am delighted to know that I do not have to wait until almost noon for you to rise.”
Frances could see the phaeton on the driveway behind him. A groom was holding the horses’ heads.
“I do not believe it would be proper for me to accompany you now, sir,” she said.
He looked startled.“Did I give the impression we would be alone, Miss Wilson?” he asked. “How very remiss of me. Lady Astor will be there too, and Mr. Hubbard. They have ridden on ahead.”
