Chapter 12
Arabella thought she had trained herself not to feel, had worked so that nothing would ever affect her as Philip's rejection had. She had been deluding herself, for she had felt every emotion possible when Michael was kissing her, including the overwhelming longing that it never stop.
Yes, he had kissed her, but lord, she had wanted him to. Had done for days. She had to admit to herself that she had touched him whenever she could. The brush of their hands, or the rub of their arms as they worked together, had very much been a result of her need to be close to him, to feel the muscles under his frock coat, to imagine his hands holding her.
Of course he had responded by kissing her when their emotions had run high. It is what came of promising without words something that should not be given. She was the worst kind of person and was mortified at her brazen behaviour.
Now she would have to face him, knowing that she had taken advantage of him, abused her power as mistress and yet she still had to work with him. There would be no more inappropriate touching, and the thought depressed her. He had the effect of a drug to her, lifting her, sending frissons of feelings through her body at even the slightest touch, and now she would feel nothing but loss.
Finding Grace in the drawing room, she did not hesitate to confess all to her friend and sat at the end of her sorry tale, expecting Grace to condemn her as she did herself.
"Arabella, a man does not kiss someone he does not wish to," Grace said gently. Philip had been taking an age freshening up, and they were thankfully still alone in the drawing room.
"But I pushed him until he could not really respond in any other way."
Grace chuckled. "My first assessment still stands. He would not have kissed you unless he wanted to, and from what you say he said afterwards, I am thinking that he was hoping to repeat the experience rather than regretting it. You would have known if it had been a moment of madness, for it would have soon come to an end, but by the sounds of it, you were the one to stop, not him."
Arabella flushed. "He is my steward! How could I take advantage of him and his position?"
"Does it matter what his background is? If he makes you happy and is a good man, surely that is enough."
"It should be, I know, but…"
"Mr Wilson."
"He has confused me by coming here," Arabella confessed.
"Do you still have feelings for him?" It was clear that Grace was surprised that she might have.
"I honestly do not know. I blame him for the accident, though I know that is ridiculous; it was my foolish behaviour that set me on the course of action."
"You were given to believe that he was in love with you," Grace defended Arabella.
"I know he was wrong and only out to secure a fortune, but then I remember how things were between us. As he said, we used to laugh so much and enjoy each other's company. I always felt that no one understood me as he did, and now he is here, and things are different, but not as I thought they would be. I feel that I have changed in more ways than the physical, but his mannerisms and ways cause me to question if he was always so full of flowery talk and annoying self-promotion. If I encouraged him, I know it would be taking the safer route; it would be easy to believe what he is saying and go along with it, to try and recreate what we had."
Grace embraced Arabella before speaking. "You should not try to capture what you had before; that is gone. You are different people than when you first met. A lot has changed for you both, and it is who you are now and your needs and wants today that should influence you. Not your past."
Arabella smiled. "I always feel that you are talking about yourself as well as me when you speak in this way."
"We learn through experience and not always good ones." Grace smiled. "I do not wish you to make a mistake that would give you a lifetime of regret. Think of what you really want before making a decision. What seems like the easy option is not always the best one and could turn out to be far worse than you imagined."
The door opened, and Philip entered, smiling. "I managed to persuade that grumpy butler of yours to find me some pencils and paper. I have the urge to do some drawing, and I hope you will indulge me by sitting for me."
"I do not mind, but you are wrong about Sullivan; he is not grumpy," Arabella defended her butler.
"It must just be towards me, then." Philip shrugged. "Let me position you towards the window; the light is perfect to provide a silhouette around you. You look like the angel you are."
Arabella allowed herself to be moved and twisted this way and that until Philip was satisfied, and then he sat in front of her and started work.
"I hope you liked the portrait I sent before I arrived," Philip said as his hand moved swiftly over the page, not looking at Arabella as he spoke.
"It reminded me of what I was, not what I am now." Arabella's tone was stiff at the memory of the hurt she had felt when seeing the portrait.
"Of course it is who you are now. Why would it not be? A few marks do not take anything from you. In fact, they add an element of mystery, of intrigue, making you an even more appealing subject."
"That is not how I see them."
"Then you are doing yourself a disservice." Philip shrugged, still concentrating and dismissing Arabella's feelings as if they did not matter.
"Do you really not think that they are horrifying?"
"Of course not! I see beauty in everything, and especially where you are concerned. I thought you knew that."
Arabella could not answer. There it was again, pure acceptance by him, a real surprise because he had always wished for perfection in everything. She relaxed a little; perhaps they had both changed as Grace said everyone did. In Philip's case, it seemed he was more accepting than he had been, if a little annoying in the way he gushed over her.
When he had completed one drawing, he insisted on doing another. Arabella did not want to remain seated, but Philip swung her around in his arms to try and persuade her.
"Please, my sweet Bella, I have my muse returned to me, and I need to take advantage of every moment with you."
"You are ridiculous," Arabella huffed, but there was a part of her that was flattered. She had thought she was no longer vain, but it seemed the accident had not completely stripped her of vanity if she could respond to Philip so readily. "One more, and that is all."
"Perfect." As he embraced her, they were disturbed by a cough from the doorway.
Arabella glanced first at Grace, not wishing to see the condemnation in Michael's eyes when she turned to him. If she had wanted reassurance from Grace, she was to be disappointed as Grace was glaring at her for allowing Philip to take liberties. She could not avoid looking at Michael, who was glowering at Philip and herself. She was mortified and confused, as she felt as if she had been disloyal to Michael, which was ridiculous, but she could not shake the feeling off.
"I am sorry to interrupt such an endearing scene," Michael said. "I was just going to inform you that I have been called back to London."
"What? Why?" Arabella moved away from Philip towards Michael.
"An express from your uncle," Michael said stiffly, not attempting to step into the room.
"When will you be back? Will you be back?"
"I am not sure."
"Oh."
"Do not worry, we can manage the estate together; it cannot be that hard," Philip said, approaching Arabella and standing very close to her, too close for propriety.
Arabella did not notice Philip's movement; she just stared at Michael, trying to think of something to make him stay even though she had claimed to understand if he wanted to leave only a couple of hours prior to his announcement.
Her head and heart were in turmoil. She did not know whether to run to Michael or run from him, and her emotions were crashing into her one after the other. She could not make sense of them. How could she want him to go, yet be desperate for him to remain with her all at the same time? He was her steward, the man who had been forced on her by her uncle. She could not have a relationship with him, it was wrong for so many reasons, but she knew with a certainty that frightened her with its intensity that she would miss him every minute of every day that he was gone.
"Please come back. If you can," she appealed to him.
Michael looked surprised at the words but did not answer to assure her. "I will leave soon and pick up the stage at the inn."
"Take the carriage," Arabella said quickly.
"Thank you, but no. I am perfectly fine travelling on the stage."
"It might be dangerous."
There was a softening about his eyes, but his stance was still stiff. "I will be careful." With a final look at her and a nod to Grace, Michael left the room without making eye contact with Philip.
"Whoever appoints your servants needs to take a serious look at who they are employing," Philip said. "They are the most sullen bunch of people I have ever met."
"I will be employing any future servants," Arabella said, eventually turning away from the door.
"That is music to my ears, and it means that I can help." Philip took her hand and guided her to the seat he wanted her to sit on to continue with his drawing. "With that oaf of a man gone, I am sure our time together will be far pleasanter. He is like a surly boy, always commenting on things which do not concern him."
"He wanted the best for Arabella," Grace said, her tone not dissimilar to Michael's.
"Then at least he had something about him, but he certainly did not come across as a man out to do his duty. There was far too much backchat for my liking. You really do have to show servants who is in charge, my Bella. Never fear, I am here to help and guide you. You can rely on me."
Arabella did not respond, looking off into the distance and ignoring Grace's snort of derision at Philip's words. All she could think of was that the man who had kissed her as if she was the most beautiful person in the world, and as if he had never wanted to stop, who had filled her heart with happiness, was on his way to London, and she would never see him again.