His humility touched me, and my annoyance evaporated like dew in sunshine. “Lady Farthington has quite a bark, but she will appreciate your apology.”
He nodded and sat back, apparently having used up all his words. The temptation to glance at Rowan again proved too strong to resist, and I raised my eyes to his corner of the room.
He was still in conversation with Mama.
I sighed. What did it matter? I wasn’t marrying Rowan. I was marrying Clodwick. Safe, reliable, ghost-obsessed Clodwick. But even the sweet letter he had written to me with his apology and compliment could not buoy my spirits.
I might as well climb back in the tower with Penelope.
This was not the freedom I wanted.
Chapter 25
Rowan
“The torches are ready,” Mrs. Mason announced, breezing into the drawing room and going straight to her husband. “I hope everyone is up for an adventure.”
“Torches?” Was this a game I had not yet heard of?
Mrs. Delafield clasped her hands together over the ruche hem of her blue bodice. “Dear me. We forgot to tell you. We have planned a night walk.”
My spirits perked. I could use some fresh air after the confines of the dining room, and the drawing room held little improvement. I needed more space between Arabella and me. The weight of her gaze continued to settle on me throughout the evening, and it was all I could do to resist meeting it. It was only a matter of time before she would corner me and remind me that I was to leave. The truth would come out that I was returning, and then she really would hate me.
The very idea felt like its own form of bondage. It wasn’thateI wanted from Arabella.
A maid entered, bestowing shawls to the women as everyone clamored to their feet. Arabella wrapped a white gauzy shawl about her shoulders, and I had to drag my eyes away when she set her arm on Mr. Clodwick’s. The next few days would be sheer torture for me.
Everyone filed into rows of two, leaving me to walk beside Miss Elizabeth. She gave me a wan smile, which was quite the improvement from when I’d first arrived.
“Don’t worry too much,” Elizabeth said right before we crossed through the front door into the night.
“Pardon?” I asked.
“About Arabella.”
I scratched the spot behind my head, just above my cravat. “I don’t understand your meaning.”
“You’re an intelligent man. You’ll puzzle it out easily enough.” My confusion must have made her take pity on me, for she sighed heavily and said, “She doesn’t hate you anymore.”
I nodded, not at all comforted.
Elizabeth gave a short laugh. “Maybe you aren’t as intelligent as I thought.”
My current state of frustration left me incapable of smothering my annoyance. “You’re too kind.”
“Very well, I will tell you a secret, but you must not tell Arabella I said anything.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want you to betray her confidence.”
“Oh? Then I shouldn’t tell you that she cares for you? Then by all means, I will keep it to myself. Excuse me, Mr. Ashworth.” She gave me a coy smile and waltzed ahead to link arms with her sister, Mrs. Mason, as they descended from the portico.
My own legs stood stock-still. I was incapable of taking another step. So Arabella did care. I knew it! I mean, I didn’t really know, but I had surely hoped. But what was I to do about it? Despite developing feelings for me, she had stubbornly chosen Mr. Clodwick.
I couldn’t allow it. I had to do what Mr. Delafield had suggested. I would buy her a dozen trinkets and get on my knees and beg if I had to. But how? When? Surely, not tonight. She was all the way at the front of our little company beside Mr. Clodwick.
Maybe it was the romantic glow of the lanterns lining the path about the yard and casting a haze of yellow about us. Perhaps it was the pull of my soul yearning to repair the broken link between Arabella and me. Or maybe I felt pushed to the edge by yet another timeline working against me. Regardless, I am not proud of what I did next.
I hurried down the steps, catching up with the others. As soon as I met them, I yelled out, “String bean!”
