Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

“ L ord Farnsworth is positively dreamy,” Hanna sighed as she settled into a chair beside Emma and Arabella that evening.

Her face was aglow, her eyes shimmering with a light that had been absent for a very long time. She was dressed in a taffeta ballgown that rustled softly with every movement, the material catching the light of the chandeliers and gleaming with every turn of her head. She had styled her beautiful hair in an elegant half-up, half-down fashion, and pearl earrings dangled gracefully from her ears.

Emma forced a smile. “I am glad. At least, you have a gentleman who values you enough to attend.”

“Pray, do not be in such a high dudgeon,” Hanna replied. “Lord Hennessey may yet appear.”

Emma shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

They had been at the ball for nearly two hours, and Lord Hennessey, who had been explicitly invited to meet Emma, had yet to make an appearance. Lady Morley had apologized repeatedly, but her words offered little comfort.

Arabella had done her best to console her sister, but the truth was, she herself was too troubled to be of much help. Her mind kept wandering back to the dreadful conversation she had overheard, which had confirmed her worst fears.

She had remained civil to Harry as they made their way to the ball, though the silence during the carriage ride had been unbearably tense.

Presently, Harry was conversing with Lord Farnsworth, the gentleman whom Lady Morley had chosen for Hanna.

“You’ve hardly spoken at all,” Hanna remarked. “Is something the matter?”

Arabella turned to her sister, clearing her throat, prepared to share the truth of what had transpired. But then she hesitated. Hanna was happy for the first time in a long time, and Emma was already miserable. There was no need to add to their burdens.

“Sir Richard came to call today,” she finally revealed, “and he was rather unpleasant. It seems Father went to him to bitterly complain about us keeping you both at Ridlington Manor.”

“Of course, he would do that,” Hanna sighed. “Pitiful. It is no wonder that none of his peers want anything to do with him. Indeed, if it weren’t for Harry, Emma and I would stand no chance of finding husbands. We were fortunate you made this match, even if it was…”

“Indeed,” Emma agreed. “Father is the cause of all our sorrows, but at the same time, he has given us a glimmer of hope, even if it wasn’t for our benefit.”

Arabella said nothing for a moment, then asked, “How has he been?”

“He hardly leaves his chamber,” Emma scoffed. “I hear him pacing around the manor at times, and then the clinking of glasses from the parlor or his study—wherever he hides his bottles—before he returns to his room. He scarcely speaks to us, communicating mostly through shrugs and sullen expressions.”

“I wrote to Alexander to inform him of the latest developments,” Hanna added, glaring at her.

“I don’t know what you expect to achieve by involving him,” Emma huffed. “He’s a bird-witted goose who will stay in Ireland until the day our father drops dead, and then he will return to England to claim a title he wasn’t meant for. He’ll be riding into town on a white stud to claim it, like Lady Jane Grey.”

“He is the heir to the county—he is hardly Lady Jane Grey,” Arabella argued. “You should not repeat Father’s hateful speech.”

“Oh, listen to who is speaking now, all high and mighty since you became a duchess.” Emma rolled her eyes.

Arabella mirrored the gesture and stood up. “If there is one blessing Father has given me, it’s chasing me out of that house so I don’t have to argue with the two of you over foolish things.”

“Bella, don’t leave!” Hanna pleaded, but Arabella had already stormed out of the room.

She stepped back into the ballroom, where the merriment was at its peak. Laughter, chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the sound of slippers gliding over the hardwood floor filled the air. The oppressive heat hung over the ballroom, and while she had initially enjoyed the mingling scents of the ladies’ perfumes and the roses placed around the room, now the air was thick with the less pleasant odor of sweat.

Harry approached her with a concerned expression. “There you are. I was wondering where you had gone.”

“I was with my sisters,” she replied coolly. “They are the reason I am here, after all. You seemed deep in conversation, I’m surprised you noticed I was gone.”

“Arabella, what have I done? You’re evidently cross with me, but I cannot understand why. I’ve already told you that my uncle will not trouble you again.” He sounded befogged, naturally, since he did not know she’d overheard the truth.

“And I am grateful for that,” she returned, saying nothing further but looking at him as though waiting for something more.

Although she didn’t know what she expected him to say, she was determined not to believe any words that might come out of his lips—likely lies, all of them.

“Well, I do not wish to intrude on you during this exciting evening. I know you were looking forward to it, and for what it’s worth, Lord Farnsworth seems very taken with Hanna.”

“Good,” she uttered. “I’m glad. She deserves it.”

“It’s unfortunate that Lord Hennessey did not come, but Lady Morley assured me she will find another match for Emma. I have made it known to Lord Farnsworth that I am determined to see my sisters well taken care of.”

Harry continued speaking, though Arabella wanted nothing more than for him to stop. She looked up at him and blinked. Such sentiments might have touched her had they been expressed at another time.

“I am grateful. You certainly take the vows you made before our wedding quite seriously,” she said, with as much feeling as she could muster.

“I take all the promises I make seriously, Arabella. I had hoped you would know this by now.”

“Right. Of course, you do,” she replied, her voice hollow. “Didn’t you say you had business to attend to?”

Harry looked at her, his shoulders slumping. “Yes, I did. But I had hoped perhaps we might dance together before I go. We have only ever danced together once, do you realize that?”

“I am aware. But I must decline. We cannot dance together—we are married. As a duke, you should know that only those unmarried may dance together in public. The moment you made me your wife, you gave up the privilege of dancing with me anywhere but in the privacy of our home.”

“Well then, perhaps we could dance in private? Maybe tomorrow?” he asked, with a smile that once would have charmed her, a smile that would have once made her ache for his company and eagerly accept his offer. But now, she felt nothing but a deep, bitter self-loathing.

How could she allow this man to make her believe there could be something more between them? How could she believe he was honorable? She had swallowed his lies like the fool she was.

“I must confess, I have never been much of a dancer. I would always prefer being in the orchestra rather than on the dance floor,” she said. “Anyhow, I should not keep you.”

He looked at her, crestfallen, as if she had struck him. “I see. Well, you are right—I ought to go.” He pulled out his fob watch. “It’s nearly eight. I’ve arranged for two carriages, so you may return home at your leisure. Good night.”

With that, he disappeared into the crowd.

Arabella watched him go, shaking her head as she bit her lip.

“Goodness! Did someone eat the last flummery without asking you first?” Emma drawled, appearing beside her.

“Have you been eavesdropping?” Arabella asked sharply.

“Of course not,” Emma replied indignantly. “I came to find you and saw you were talking to Harry, so I waited. It didn’t look as though you were having a very pleasant conversation, though.”

“We were not,” Arabella said, then grabbed her sister by the arm and pulled her into a nearby alcove where they could speak privately. “He keeps a mistress. My suspicions were correct. Her name is Helen, and he’s going to see her now.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “He is? Are you certain?”

Arabella nodded miserably. “Yes, I am. I overheard him talking to his uncle earlier. His uncle admonished him—no, ridiculed him for having feelings for this woman, Helen. Still, she seems to be quite untouchable. His uncle even called her an imbecile.”

Emma frowned. “He did? That’s unkind. I mean, it’s worse that he’s keeping a mistress, but his uncle is very unpleasant. But what are you going to do?”

Arabella shrugged. “I already suspected he had a mistress. I searched his study the night you and Hanna stayed over and found a drawing of a woman and a child. I assumed it was his mistress and his child, but I was wrong. It was his aunt and cousin, or so he said. Now, I don’t know what to believe. He’s a liar—a rotten liar.”

Emma rubbed her arm, sensing her sister’s distress. Arabella hadn’t intended to confide in her, but if she was going to tell someone, it would be Emma. She needed her advice.

Emma was always the more pragmatic one, seeing things as they were, though often with a touch of cynicism. Hanna was too dreamy, too soft-hearted.

Their earlier argument was forgotten now that she had revealed the truth of her troubles.

“Well, you must find out who she is. He’s going to see her now?”

Arabella crossed her arms. “He said he’s tending to business, but who conducts business at eight o’clock at night? Besides, Parliament is in session, so most of the gentlemen in the House of Lords would be there. He was meant to go but canceled because his uncle was supposed to dine with him. Now that his uncle has canceled dinner, he suddenly has business to attend to?”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “That seems rather peculiar. I agree—he must be visiting her. You must follow him, Bella.”

“Follow him? What do you mean? I don’t know where he’s going.”

“Take Father’s carriage,” Emma suggested. “Tell Masterson to stay a fair distance behind. That way, Harry won’t see the coat of arms. Follow him, and if you must, go on foot. Find out where he goes, remember the address, and tomorrow I will go with you to confront her.”

Arabella gulped but knew her sister was right. If she wanted the truth, she had to follow Harry to his mistress’s home.