“Is there anything else you need, Mrs. Andrews?” the lady’s maid asked after she had poured hot water into the basin.
Arabella stayed facing the window. Her lashes were still wet and she knew her face was red and swollen.
“No, thank you.”
“My mistress wanted me to tell you that she will be very glad to see you today.”
“And I, her.”
“Yes, Mrs. Andrews. Shall I go now?”
“Yes, please.”
So much snow. She put her hand on the window. So cold.
When the snow stopped, she would go south to her sister. She did not know how she would do it, but she was determined that she would go alone.
She had seen his face when she had screamed and cursed. His expression had been blank. As if she were a patient in an asylum and he was studying her and her madness.
She knew she had lost him.
And this time it was all her fault.
Twenty-Four
Alasdair joined an almost full breakfast table. The entire party was present save the marchioness and Arabella.
Lady Painswick, the marquess declared, was likely still asleep.
“And Mrs. Andrews?” Rebecca turned to Alasdair.
“I think she might take something in her room?” Alasdair said.
Everyone else had already started eating.
Perhaps, he thought, he had voiced an opinion in too confident a manner. After breakfast, when Arabella was calmer, he would apologize. His regret was real, even if he did not understand her rage. Where was the offense in saying women were less susceptible to sin than men?
“There's no sign of the snow letting up,” Lord Morpeth said and wiped his mouth and threw down his napkin after only a few bites of his breakfast. “We are stuck inside for another day.”
Stuck inside with the villain Morpeth who had tried to open the bedchamber door last night and get to Alasdair’s Arabella. At least, Alasdairhadthought she was hisArabella. He was not so sure, now.
And smarting under Arabella’s rebuke, he loathed this man even more, this man whom Arabella had said she wanted years ago when Alasdair had been yearning for her at Sommerleigh.
“It’s a good thing you have such a fine cellar laid away, Morpeth,” the marquess said. “Otherwise, we should all go mad and you should have yourself a little Bedlam here.”
Rebecca Dalrymple was seated next to Alasdair.
“Do you think Arabella will be down later, Dr. Andrews?” she asked him.
“I am sure of it, yes, my lady,” Alasdair said, not feeling sure at all.
“I am so glad to meet you, Dr. Andrews,” Rebecca said. “Arabella told us all about you—oh, it must have been three and a half years ago. She described you perfectly and she was in despair at that time because she could not think how to meet you for a second time. But I told her that she would see you again. And I didn’t tell her this then, but I’ll tell you now if you like, but I secretly knew that you two would someday be wed. And you see, I was right.”
“Uh, yes.”
“My sister,” Juliana said from across the table, “is prone to knowing things but not announcing that she knew them until they manifest as reality.”
“I predicted we’d have snow, didn’t I?” Rebecca said.
