Chapter 11

Michael was seething inside. He wanted to swing for Philip or just shove something in his mouth that would stop his inane prattle. They had been out for two hours, and his head was banging. From the looks of things, Arabella was feeling the same; she was paler than usual and was wearing a permanent frown. This was not doing her any good with her tenants, as she appeared to be the aloof woman he had first met. It was time to call a halt to their excursion before the buffoon caused irreparable damage.

"I think it is time to return to the house. We are not achieving anything productive," he said.

Philip turned to look at him in triumph. "I said it was not a good use of my sweet Bella's time to trail around after you."

Michael spoke through gritted teeth. "Your sweet Bella has a mind of her own and is keen to be involved." Arabella shot him a look, and he wanted to kick himself for being so unprofessional.

Philip looked delighted at Michael's misstep. "Your uncle must have interesting criteria for choosing servants. I have never known one to utter such familiarity."

"Let us head back," Arabella said, turning her horse. "I am sure you want to rest, Philip. I seem to remember how any exertion put you in the suds."

"Not at all. Any time with you are pure moments of happiness and peace."

Michael snorted, but only Arabella responded to it by raising her eyebrows at him. He knew he had gone too far again, but the man was driving him mad. Jealousy it might be, but he could not believe someone as intelligent as Arabella could swallow the nonsense the gudgeon was uttering.

Philip made sure that Michael knew he had to take care of the horses when they reached the stables. "I must say, it surprises me how few servants you seem to have," he said as he offered his arm and they walked out of the stables, leaving a glowering Michael behind.

"Mr Follett has already employed more and is working to increase numbers further," Arabella explained, not looking back at Michael.

Michael seethed as he brushed down the horses. She normally stayed in the stables and brushed her own horse. It seemed she forgot her affection for the animal when that coxcomb was near her. Sighing and trying not to take the skin off the horse with the force of his brushing, he cursed himself.

"You are a jealous fool," he whispered. The only response he got was a twitch of the horse's ears. "I need to stop it, or I will be cast off even earlier than she plans." The thought of not being in Arabella's company filled him with dread; it had become a dark cloud following him around every moment of every day.

Walking into the house, he was greeted by Sullivan. "That man has invited himself for dinner."

It would have amused Michael that both Sullivan and Mrs Johnson never referred to Philip as anything other than that man, but he was not in the mood to find any of it funny. "I think it will not be long before he is spending all of his time here."

"If that happens, you will be looking for a new butler and cook," Sullivan responded darkly.

"You would leave her?"

"We saw the effects his humiliation had on her last time, and neither of us wishes to see her go through that again. And it will, you mark my words, for he is not here for anything other than to advance himself. He cares for no one other than himself and never did."

"I hope you are wrong, but I think you have judged him correctly. I cannot credit that she believes his words; she is intelligent and no fool, yet she lets him prattle on without ridiculing him." Michael was being driven by jealousy, he knew it, but he had considered Arabella to be clever and astute in the very short time they had been working together. To see her listening to such flowery nonsense went against everything that he had seen of her. He was beginning to wonder which was the real Arabella. Had he got her so very wrong?

"But he was her first love," Sullivan said. "Mrs Johnson says a girl in such confined circumstances must have clung onto his memory, for there has been no one to replace him in her affections. I would never presume to understand how young women think, but Mrs Johnson says she has seen it happen before."

Michael had never wished that his background had been different until meeting Arabella. She was not of the same class and could never be his. That thought had been bad enough to reconcile, but now he was faced with her being married, if all went Philip's way, to a man who was not worthy of her. He wanted to threaten Philip with physical injury if he did manage to persuade Arabella to marry him and then hurt her, but Michael did not have the right and that frustrated him the most. To want to protect someone so much, to want to spend a lifetime caring for that person, to make her laugh, but to be able to do nothing but stand by and watch was going to be torture.

"I will be in the study. The only thing I can do is leave the estate in the best position I can. What he will do with it after that, I have no idea."

There was no response from Sullivan as Michael walked away. What could he say that would make things better? They both knew full well that Philip was here for her money, and even if Michael contacted Arabella's uncle, he could do nothing once her birthday was here.

Michael had never felt so helpless in his life, and he knew without doubt that it was not going to get any easier.

He tried to work, but it was two hours of increased headache and not much productivity when the door opened, and Arabella walked into the study.

Michael stood. "Miss Betez."

"You did not join us in the drawing room," Arabella said.

"I thought I could be of more use here."

"Without me?" There was a slight smile on her lips, but she seemed unsure of what to say.

"You had a guest who was demanding your attention. I thought that you would not wish to carry on today."

"I suppose not. I feel we did not achieve much on our ride out."

"No." Michael was struggling to keep his mouth shut. It was none of his business, but she looked vulnerable, a little lost, and the urge to protect her was overwhelming him.

"Philip has never had to take responsibility for an estate; he does not understand what it entails, as I did not until you reminded me of my responsibilities. I suppose he needs a Mr Follett in his life to give him a stern talking to."

"Is there anything you need my help with?" It seemed to Michael that their roles had reversed; he was the one snapping words at her, and she was being nice to him.

Arabella seemed shocked at his tone. "I just wanted to know why you had not joined us. Philip is freshening up, though he has not stopped apologising for not being dressed for dinner."

"Oh."

Frowning at him, she flushed and turned away. Michael gritted his teeth until his jaw hurt and his hands were fisted at his side. He was not going to say anything, he could not, and then he saw the hurt in her eyes when she turned back to him, and he was undone.

"I thought we had become friends, but you are acting like a stranger," she said quietly.

"Why are you letting him take advantage?" Michael said, losing the battle with his self-control.

"I beg your pardon?"

"He is trying to bamboozle you into thinking he cares when it is plain to see what he wants from you."

"And what is that, pray tell?"

Yet again, he had overstepped his role. He should beg her forgiveness, although the way she was standing rigid, he had the feeling she would not give it willingly. It did not matter. Now he had started to speak, he could not stop himself.

"He wants your money. He does not want you." When she flinched, he knew he had scored a hit, but he felt like he was the one given the blow, the pain he felt at her reaction was so real.

"I see. I completely understand that you think me undesirable, and I cannot really argue against that, but suggesting that someone else would feel the same as you is a little arrogant on your part, is it not?"

"No! That is not what I meant."

"It is what you said."

Michael moved towards her. "You are twisting my words. I think you are a beautiful, desirable woman who anyone would be lucky to call their own, but not him. He is not worthy of you." His words were desperate; he could not let her leave thinking that he thought ill of her. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and when he saw her at ease and interacting with others, he knew her inner nature was as gorgeous as she was on the outside.

Arabella snorted. "Now you are spouting flummery, just as you accuse Philip of doing. I am not beautiful; there is no need to lie."

"For God's sake! I am not lying!" Michael took two steps to stand in front of her. Their height difference made her tilt her head to look up to him, and without thinking, he pulled her to him and kissed her.

She was stiff in his arms for a moment, but then with a moan, whether of pleasure or protest, he had no idea, she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. It was all the encouragement he needed.

He had dreamed of taking her into his arms, and here she was. He deepened the kiss, constantly expecting her to pull back, but she matched his movements, responding with eagerness. When she opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue, he felt his knees weaken but clung to her, running his hands up and down her body and pulling her closer, unable to get her as near as he needed her to be.

This was heaven, and he never wanted it to end, but eventually she pulled away. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips red and plump, and he smiled that he had caused her pupils to dilate. Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, he let his fingers trail down her jawline to her chin.

"Never say that you are not beautiful, for I will not be able to stop myself from responding to you as I just have." His voice was slightly hoarse, his smile tender.

"I— We…"

"Please, there is no need to say anything. We both wanted that to happen. I think we have for quite a while."

Arabella looked confused, and then her hands went to her cheeks. "What have I done?" she said, almost to herself.

"What do you mean? We both responded to each other."

"I have behaved like a doxy!"

"No!" Michael tried to take hold of her to comfort and reassure her, but she moved out of his reach.

"I am sorry. That should never have happened and will not happen again, I assure you. If you wish to leave, I will not stop you. I have taken advantage of you when you were not in a position to refuse me, I promise that this will never be mentioned, and I will give you a good reference." Arabella was babbling, looking horrified, and it made Michael take his own step back.

"That meant nothing to you? It was a spur-of-the-moment incident?"

"Of course it was! What else could it be?"

"But we kissed," Michael whispered. He needed to prove to her that they both felt the attraction between them, it had not been a moment of madness. It certainly was not on his part, and he could not believe that it was on hers either.

"You were trying to comfort me, and it got out of hand. There is no more to be said."

"I think there is a lot more."

"No. You are my steward. I am your mistress. There is nothing else between us." She was trying to keep her tone cold, but he could see she was shaking.

"I see."

"Good. Think over what you wish to do. I will support whatever decision you decide on."

As she left the room, Michael could only stare numbly after her. He was not quite sure what had happened but knew that things had just got worse.

And he had no idea how to fix it.