The door to the study opened, and Papa stuck his head out. My feet began to dance in place. Dare I create a scene and put an end to this madness? Or should I stop the madness that was me, Arabella Delafield, the insane woman who had developed feelings for her archnemesis?
My deliberation had taken too long, and the decision was made for me. Papa and Rowan entered the study and shut the door behind them. My feet were moving before I could stop them. Not a moment later, Ihad my ear to the study door, wishing I could decipher the mumbled sounds from within.
In a fictional story, I could have made out every single word. Why was this door so thick?
Frustrated, I pushed back and marched away.
It was done. Rowan and I were no longer promised to each other. Now that my future was safe, I could return to my writing pursuits. I made my way up the stairs to my bedchamber.
There on my writing desk were my paintings. I knew Rowan must have taken them and then had felt too guilty to keep them. Why had he been trying so hard to win me? Was it because of the bet with his friends? My body seemed to conjure up the recent memory of standing in Rowan’s arms.
I was too scared to believe that those feelings were real, and yet my body felt flushed and warm, and there was no pretending that I felt myself spiraling like a top ready to crash against the nearest wall.
I smothered every thought and desire as deep as I could. I had a book to write.
In the bottom drawer, beneath my stack of blank parchment, I pulled out the adventure of Penelope Waters. She needed no man. No hero. She only required her wits about her, and she would be able to return home a legend. I stretched the fingers above my sprained wrist, testing their strength. It seemed much improved, just as Penelope’s future would be. Taking up my pen, I dipped it in ink and set it to paper, writing the first words that came to my mind. Now was not the time for finesse, but results. Penelope was going to be as free as I was.
Penelope rushed to the window. If she could manage to squeeze through the narrow opening, could she survive the forty-foot fall to the alligator-infested moat below? She studied the swirling,muddied water below andgasped when a man’s arm stretched forth from its depths and grabbed hold of the castle wall. Another arm came up, and then his upper bodyemerged.
Gasping, she stepped back from the window. Even without seeing those daring brown eyes,she knew his identity. It was the man she swore she would never love . . .
I jerked my pen from the paper. No! This was all wrong. I did not write gothic romances. And I most certainly wasn’t about to memorialize Rowan Ashworth in a book. Penelope was supposed to save herself!
Disgusted, I pushed the paper away from me. I was certain my regular writing flow would return the moment I was free from my promised arrangement. At least now my words had come as easily as before—even if they had come out all wrong. Romantic fantasies did not belong in my writing.
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. Perhaps it wasn’t the agreement but my feelings that were causing the trouble. Only half of my problems had been resolved. I still had a ball of emotions in my chest that needed to be unraveled. I both disliked and liked the same man. I had to get to the bottom of it. With a little work and a few direct questions, shouldn’t I be able to discover how Rowan could possibly be both those people? If he had truly changed and I could forgive him, would I be able to return to my normal writing habits?
With tears in my eyes, I prayed it was so.
I needed my writing desperately. It was how I coped with the world, and it was going to be how I managed to survive a marriage to Mr. Clodwick. I rested my forehead on my desk, my lips trembling. There was no happy ending in my story, was there? Not for me and not for poor Penelope. My hand went to my heart. It felt like it was bleeding with how it ached.
Chapter 23
Rowan
“Icannot marry your daughter.” I sat rigidly in my seat across from Mr. Delafield, bracing myself for his reaction. The desk between us felt too small to hold the man back should he desire to kill me. I braved a few words of explanation. “She deserves to choose a husband for herself.”
I had given up everything. My father’s approval, Mr. Delafield’s trust, the bet with my friends, and even my precious Folio. I had done it all for Arabella, and knowing so made me sit a little taller. Even if I lost her, this much I had to do.
Even if it meant my own demise.
Mr. Delafield rubbed his jaw and then leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. I braced myself for his anger—for the bloodcurdling tone he had used the night Arabella had announced her supposed engagement to Mr. Clodwick. Mr. Delafield’s expression, however, remained remarkably stoic. “This is exactly what I hoped would happen.”
I blinked, then blinked again. “Y-you did?” I could feel a bead of sweat forming at my hairline from the stress of my confession. There was no way I had heard him right.
“I had hoped you would begin to care for Arabella and desire her happiness above all else.”
“I don’t understand. Why did you want us to marry each other then? If it was love you wanted, then why promise her to me?”
“You have a lot in common. Even when you were young and fought like a pair of angry pups, I saw the similarities. You both possess good hearts and care for those around you. You both love the human story and the connections you find to it in morals and themes in the books you read. You both are passionate and fight for what you want in life. Son, with loving hearts such as yours, you have a chance of having what my wife and I have.
“The best matches are not between two perfect people but two intentionally good people trying and working toward their happiness. I cannot guarantee your future together anymore now than I could when you were children, but I’ve tried hard to provide the opportunity.”
My arms erupted in gooseflesh, his words taking root in my chest. “Thank you, sir, for wanting the best for me.”
“I still do, Rowan. There’s hope yet.”
I shook my head. “I have already told her that I would release her from any expectation of marrying me.”