Arabella cast her gaze to the sky. “Never mind, him. How can we help? I’ve been worried sick about you. No one lets me see you, and I am not even sure if you are receiving my letters.”
“I am sorry you’ve worried. I am well enough as you can see. At least once a month, Mr. Lawrence rides to see his parents in London. He will leave again next week. I will sneak away then to see you.”
Arabella squeezed Harriet’s hand once more with a tenderness of friendship. “I look forward to it with the greatest of anticipation. Any visit from a good friend is well worth the wait.”
The words set Harriet’s mouth into a smile. “Thank you.”
Arabella shrugged off her words. “You had better hurry home. I don’t want to be the reason you’re in trouble.”
Harriet nodded and pulled away. There was a glimmer of hope in her countenance that had not been there before, and I knew Arabella had been the one to put it there. I studied Arabella out of the corner of my eye. I had never appreciated the way she had treated me when we were children, but she was very good to everyone else around her. There was a reason her father loved her so dearly, her mother made excuses for her, and her sisters wanted her to live near them. It was likely the same reason that Clodwick wanted to marry her too. She didn’t simper and bat hereyelashes like some, and each of her emotions were authentic and true to her nature. When she cared, she really cared.
And unfortunately, when she hated, the emotion was equally intense.
Arabella sighed when Harriet turned at the street corner. “Poor Harriet.” She extended her arm out in the direction her friend had taken. “This is what comes of arranged marriages.” She turned her head and gave me a long hard stare before retreating toward the haberdashery.
I stood there gaping after her, thoroughly annoyed. Perhaps I should tell her that my friend Charles Shepherd had a very happy arranged marriage. Did she really think I would be the same kind of man as Mr. Lawrence? That I would control her movements and time with her friends? If she saw me as that kind of man, no wonder she did not care for me.
I glanced back at Harriet. I wondered if Mr. Lawrence’s parents were the same Lawrences in London who were friends with my own parents. As soon as I returned home, I would write and ask. If there was something I could do for this poor young lady, I would do it. Arabella might not believe it, but I was capable of being a decent human being.
Chapter 18
Arabella
Lady Farthington did not respond to Mama’s dinner invitation until the following morning at breakfast. What a relief to tell Clodwick that he could finally meet her.
“I am overjoyed,” he said flatly when I told him over my plate of ham and eggs. Neither his expression nor his hunched shoulders did anything to display emotions that matched his words, but I believed him. Sometimes a woman just knew what the man she was going to marry was thinking.
“How is your wrist this morning, Miss Delafield?” Rowan asked, reaching forward and refilling my water glass. The footman could have done it, but I admit it was nice seeing a man act the part of a gentleman—especially this one. What surprised me more was his continual concern about my wrist. No one else besides my parents had remembered to ask about it.
“It is much improved this morning.” There was still a bruise, but the swelling had almost completely disappeared. “Thank you for asking,” I added as an afterthought.
“You’re most welcome.”
I tried not to read into his sincerity. It both bothered me and intrigued me when I wished to have my mind empty of thoughts of him altogether. Today was about pleasing Mr. Clodwick by finally unveiling my paintings.
By the time we finished eating, everyone had gathered in the breakfast room besides Mr. Mason, who had slipped out for a ride. I didn’t care to showcase my unpracticed painting skills for all and sundry; however, I could not bring Clodwick to the conservatory alone. It would not only be improper, but the very idea made me a tad nervous. I was certain it was natural for a bride-to-be to feel this way. Someday soon we would be married, and by then, I had no doubt that I would be comfortable with the idea of being alone together.
“Would anyone be willing to trek up to the third floor to the conservatory?” I asked the room at large. “I have promised to show Mr. Clodwick my paintings.” My eyes settled first on Tabitha and then Elizabeth, my brow arched in question.
“I know you long for the company of a wise old man,” Father said, “but my solicitor should be here at any moment.
“And I must review the menu if Lady Farthington has agreed to join us tomorrow,” Mama said.
I really hadn’t meant to invite them in particular, but their responses made me smile.
“I will join you,” Rowan announced, his cheeky smile momentarily distracting me.
“Anyone else?” I asked, pointedly ignoring him.
“Elizabeth and I will come.” Tabitha stared at Elizabeth, brows raised. I had shared my concerns about Elizabeth with Tabitha before bed, and she and I were determined to watch Elizabeth and keep her from throwing away her future on a handsome groomsman—who we had learned through a little sleuthing knew how to read and write and might be the source of all her correspondence.
“I appreciate the company,” I said to my sisters, before reluctantly including Rowan in my gaze. We all pushed back in our seats and stood,dropping our napkins on the table. I waited for Mr. Clodwick to come to my side before accepting his arm and leading the way from the room.
My sisters followed closely behind us, laughing at something Rowan said.
Once we were all enclosed in the conservatory, warm sunlight bathing the room, I released Mr. Clodwick’s arm and took a wide step away from him. I would not complain about my lack of attraction, but neither could I force myself to enjoy his nearness for overlong. It was a small problem—one I was certain I could address once we were married.
“Shall we see your paintings?” Clodwick asked.