Page 47 of Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love 2)

Drink in hand, Nash approached Arabella just as Lady Grace’s hateful words rang out in the darkened garden. Fortunately, no one remained on the patio to hear her vitriol, since the music had resumed. He took deep breaths to calm himself. The chit had gone beyond the bounds of decent behavior.

“Here you are, sweeting.” He held out a glass of champagne. “I am afraid the ratafia was all gone. Not that I believe you prefer that over champagne,” he joked.

Arabella accepted the glass with a shaky hand. His attempt to control his anger was less than successful. Her tightened lips fed the beast rising up to roar and strike out at the one who’d hurt someone under his care. It would certainly not be acceptable to tear around the corner and throttle the girl, but had she been a man that was precisely what he would have done.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Arabella avoided his eyes and sipped the drink. She placed the glass on a small table next to them as one lone tear slid down her cheek. She quickly swiped it from her cheek and looked at him, her chin raised. Her face was pale in the moonlight, and she shuddered as if a sudden chill overtook her. His mind made up, he extended his arm. “Do you care for a walk, sweeting?”

Arabella glanced at the balustrade where Lady Grace and her cohorts stood. Straightening her shoulders, she studied him with narrowed eyes. From what he’d seen thus far, she was a strong woman who did not shy away from problems. Considering how well she’d accepted her mother’s actions that had led to their forced marriage, plus all the animals she’d taken care of and nursed back to health—alone—his countess was no weakling.

But she was much too honest for the subterfuge of the ton. Cutting words and innuendoes were not her method of dealing with the world. Unfortunately, it was the means that many of the ladies of the ton employed. Curse their black hearts.

He tilted his head to one side and studied her, challenging her. “Yes?”

She stared back at him, a slight smile coming to her lips. Very kissable lips. “Yes, I believe I would enjoy a stroll. ’Tis truly a lovely evening, is it not?”

That’s my girl.

Holding firmly onto his arm, they took the few steps into the garden. Lady Grace and two other young women stood near the wall, within plain sight of an older woman, a bit of distance from them, obviously one of their chaperones. Lady Grace’s cheeks flushed at their appearance, but she raised her nose in the air as they approached.

“Good evening, ladies.” Nash bowed slightly and turned his glare toward Lady Grace. “I am sorry, my lady, but I seem to have missed part of what you said about my wife just now. Care to repeat it?”

Lady Grace flushed a deeper red under the lights shining from the ballroom. “’Twas nothing, my lord.” She curtsied. Her two companions quickly followed suit, their faces also flushing.

His resilient wife stood by his side, her chin up, her eyes flashing. Nash drew her closer and covered the gloved hand on his arm with his. He had no doubt Arabella could handle herself, but as her husband and protector, it was his duty. “I do hope it was nothing, because I would be most upset if I heard untoward rumors bandied about regarding my countess.” He looked directly at Lady Grace. “Surely you understand?”

When she did not answer, but continued to stare into the darkened garden, he added, “Lady Grace? Shall I assume you comprehend?”

Lady Grace glanced at him briefly and mumbled an acknowledgment. Stubborn little minx. And to think he’d almost married her. Her two companions looked decidedly uncomfortable. Nash turned his attention to them. “That goes for you, as well. The only whispers I expect to hear forthcoming about my wife will be complimentary ones.” He paused, then added, “Am I correct in my assumption that there is nothing unclear about that?”

The two ladies nodded.

“Thank you, ladies. I wish you a pleasant evening.” He moved away, and he and his wife continued their walk along the garden path, the smell of late spring flowers wafting in the air. Nash leaned in closer. “I believe it is over now.”

When they were far enough away that she could not be heard by the young ladies, she said, “I am glad you did that.”

His eyebrows rose. “Why would I not?”

Arabella shrugged. “You were about to make an offer for Lady Grace.”

He smirked and patted her hand. “This is perhaps not the best time to remind me of that fact.” Placing his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close to his side when she continued to shiver. He turned them around, and they walked back toward the patio. Either nerves or the cool air was chilling her, and he did not want a reoccurrence of her illness. “Frankly, I was afraid if I did not defend you, that you would find a way to achieve satisfaction yourself.” He grinned at her. “A critter of some sort or another in her carriage, perhaps?”

Once they reached the patio door, he opened it and escorted her through to the ballroom. She leaned up to whisper in his ear. “You read my mind, my lord.”

His laughter had heads turning in their direction.

…

The following week, at the end of a long day of dealing with household matters, Arabella picked up her skirts and hurried up the stairs to the second floor of the townhouse. She reached the corridor and walking briskly, her head down as she thought of the ball that evening, ran directly into Nash as he left his bedchamber. He grabbed her shoulders. “Slow down, sweeting, where are you off to?”

Startled from the collision, she reared back. “Oh. My apologies. I am going to check on my animals.”

“You do remember the Kensington ball this ev

ening?”

She bristled. He had been watching over her shoulder all week. Just yesterday, when he’d heard Quinn announce that Lady Matilda and her daughter, Miss Petunia, had called, Nash had dragged her into her bedchamber and instructed her on how to conduct herself.

Rounding on him, she’d said, “My lord, although you have very little faith in my ability to conduct myself, please know that I have not lived under a rock these past years. Mother and I oftentimes made and received afternoon calls.”