Absolute rubbish.
It did give me an adequate angle of her, and I could not help but compare this mature version of herself to the much younger one. Herlegs were still long, although she had grown into them nicely. She was taller than average, which meant she was just two or three inches shorter than me. And gone was her scrawny face with too many freckles. While hints of those sun-kissed spots still existed, they enhanced her beauty rather than covered it.
If I had known that Arabella Delafield would grow into a beauty who was interested in Shakespeare’s Folios, perhaps I wouldn’t have waited for a bet to race here to marry her. Except for the fact that she was still the most vexing woman of my acquaintance.
She met my eyes at that moment and caught me staring rather unabashedly her way. My stare only intensified, though I did not know what I meant by it. It was hard not to admire her, even when she made me boiling mad. Her cheeks reddened, and I would not be surprised if steam poured out of her ears like a porcelain tea kettle. She broke the connection between us and turned more fully toward Mr. Clodwick.
Interesting. It was quite possible that she hated me more than I detested her. Such a conclusion did not bode well. Unable to stand Arabella praising Clodwick’s name a moment longer, I excused myself for bed. With fists clenched only marginally tighter than my jaw, I moved toward the library to select a book to help me sleep. I was going to lose my bet, disappoint both my parents and Mr. Delafield, and lose my opportunity to purchase the third and rarest Shakespeare Folio.
But at the moment, I was most angry at the spoiled woman I was supposed to be marrying. Shoving the library door open, I stalked to the shelves and stood staring at them, unseeing a single one.
I don’t know how long I stood there, reviewing every word Arabella had spouted since she had arrived home. Arabella. And now I was thinking of her casually too. What the blazes was wrong with me?
The library door swung open, and Arabella herself stalked into the room. She stopped in front of the shelves on the opposite side of the room from me, not seeing me at all. Then she stood with her hand on her hips and glared at the books. I glanced down and realized I had the exact same stance and likely the same expression of utter frustration.
It nearly made me laugh. Or it would have if I had been in a laughing mood. I dropped my hand and turned to her. “If you purchasedRomeo and Julietwith the intention ofburningit, please have the decency to let me buy it from you.”
Arabella startled, her hand landing on her chest. “The only thing that is going toburnis your soul.”
I balked. “For wanting to marry you? Yes, I believe it’sburningwith regret already.”
She stomped across the room, stopping a few feet from me. “I meant for lying and misleading me. But I am impartial to your reasons for suffering.”
My brow furrowed. “So long as I suffer? How thoughtful.”
“Indeed. You are not a gentleman at all.”
Scoffing, I shook my head. “For the record, I did not recognize you either. Here, I thought I had helped you find happiness. How selfless of me to help my fiancée fall into the arms of another man.”
Her frown deepened. “Perhaps you are innocent about our time together in Quillsbury, but there is more fault I can lay at your feet. Selfish is you coming here with the intention of imprisoning me with your name in marriage.”
My glare deepened. “Yes, my name comes with protection, security, and position—mere trifles, of course. I would hate to sentence you to such comfort.”
“Ha! At the cost of my sanity? It does not sound like a worthwhile trade.”
My arms folded tightly across my chest. “So you threw yourself at Mr. Clodwick? How wise of you. You are sure to keep your sanity married to that one.” I watched her mouth fall open before I spun on my heel and stormed to the library door.
“Stick to your literary reviews, Mr. Ashworth,” she called after me. “Your criticisms are not wanted here.”
I let the door fall shut soundly behind me. Forget the bet. I would rather be cut off from my family and living in the poorhouse than married to a woman with such backward thinking.
She could have Clodwick. I wished her all the happiness in the world.
“I thought you had gone to bed,” Mr. Delafield said, sticking his head out of his study door. “I heard voices in the library and hoped it might be you. I would like your opinion on a few books I recently purchased.”
“Now?” I was hardly in the mood to discuss anything at present.
“There isn’t any time like the present.” He put his arm around my shoulders and steered me into his study. “How fortunate to have such a famous literary reviewer in my home.” His proud smile did me in.
I wanted to tell him that I planned to leave his home, but I was not a cruel man, and Mr. Delafield would be crushed. I had only just arrived after all this time away. Surely, I could bear a few more days of torture before I politely declined marrying his daughter and fled for my life.
I just hoped a sliver of my good sense would be intact to take home with me.
Chapter 10
Arabella
Istood staring at the row of books in front of me for a solid five minutes, my shoulders lifting with each fuming breath I took. The spines in front of me blurred, my mind completely absorbed in the argument I had had with Rowan. Choosing a book in this state was madness. No, it was that man who was maddening. How galling of him to show up here in my house after toying with me in Quillsbury. Well, there was no use staying here. I wouldn’t be reading a word with this mindset.