He had proved himself a gentleman of sorts. She had never feared him, only found his intense stare strangely unsettling. She didn’t believe he would take advantage of a woman in her position. Tonight, of all nights, he was her best bet for safety.
With a quick check of the street, she bit her lip and stepped toward that light, trusting that her good friend’s best friend would be the right option. At least if he were to ravish her, she might actually enjoy it.
A ripple of fear raced over her skin as she knocked on the blue door and huddled against it, making herself as small as possible. She glanced up and down the street swiftly but detected no movement coming after her. Through the rain, she thought the doorway of her own home was dark, which led her to believe Farnsworth might still be looking for her.
She knocked rapidly again on Rothwell’s door and it opened suddenly. “Help me,” she said to Rothwell’s servant and stumbled over the doorstep, quickly shoving the door closed behind her.
She ran her hands over the comfortingly solid door and turned the locks herself, dragging in several ragged breaths in relief. Farnsworth might never consider she would come here and it would take him a while to get through that door when it possessed so many stout locks. She might even have enough time to escape through the rear exit if no one stood in her path.
After a time, she grew aware of the repeated clearing of a throat behind her. Knowing she couldn’t avoid it, she slowly pivoted to face the room. At first glance, she thought she stood before Rothwell himself, but this man was somewhat older and had none of his intensity.
“May I be of assistance?” The stranger’s eyes widened suddenly. “Lady Farnsworth?”
Arabella smiled awkwardly. She had hoped not to be recognized at all, but anonymity was impossible given the help she needed. “I need a moment.”
“You may have as many as you wish for, of course.” His eyes dipped lower and then narrowed at her sodden gown. “Perhaps you would be more comfortable beside a fire. Given the weather outside, I believe it very likely you may be soaked through to the bone.”
Arabella cautiously glanced down at herself. Her gown was plastered to her breasts and legs as if she were wearing rags. Smears of something dark ruined the hem of the once lovely light blue muslin she’d worn for dinner. There was also a puddle forming at her feet and more droplets of water adding to it from her elbows. She swallowed the tide of nausea that tightened her throat. She wanted to hide, but this man had already seen too much. “I fear I am. A fire would be very much appreciated.”
“Come this way. Please.”
Her elbow was gasped lightly and the man steered her toward a closed door to the right. She appreciated his help. Once she’d begun to move, her legs were not very steady. Inside was a warmly lit chamber, a drawing room perhaps, but one designed for comfort rather than appearances. A pair of booted feet overhung the end of the longest settee.
The feet moved and Rothwell sat up. He shook his head suddenly. “What the devil? Dear God, what the hell has happened? Holland, send for Farnsworth at once.”
“Don’t,” Arabella shouted and then clutched her hands over her mouth in shock at her panicked yell. “Oh, please don’t.”
Arabella shivered at the flare of puzzlement forming in Rothwell’s eyes. She’d been around enough men to understand their moods. He would want to take her back where he thought she belonged as quickly as possible. She couldn’t allow that.
The man holding her arm, Holland, she recalled, eased her back a little, glancing distrustfully at Rothwell. “This wasn’t your doing, was it, Merrick?”
Rothwell scrambled to his feet. “Of course not.”
Surprised by Rothwell’s hasty move, Arabella shifted closer to the older man.
“Just as well.” Holland patted her hand, brought her to the fire, and released her near a well-padded chair. “I’ll fetch a blanket to wrap her in before she takes a chill.”
When he was gone, Rothwell moved to stand before her. His hand rose and she flinched away unconsciously.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, taking rapid breaths as panic seized her. After the events of tonight, she wasn’t sure she wanted anyone to touch any part of her ever again.
His brow furrowed but he did not withdraw. Instead, he moved his hand toward her again, much slower this time. Arabella was better prepared for the second attempt and did not flinch as his fingers slid over her jaw gently. He tilted her face toward the light so he could view her neck. His touch was light and impersonal. Very soon his eyes darkened, his jaw clenched, and then his gaze sharpened on hers. “Who did this to you?”
“Don’t ask me that.” Arabella wrenched her face from his grip and hugged her arms around her body. She struggled to keep calm. She had come to Rothwell for shelter, not questioning. She didn’t blame him for wanting answers, but she had none to give. She didn’t understand Farnsworth’s behavior at all. She knew he had a temper, but this was far beyond her experience.
She peeked at Rothwell and saw he’d not moved away. She shouldn’t have jumped from him like that and she wanted to apologize, but the words were stuck in her throat. She raised her hand to caress her cheek, feeling tenderness and discomfort there. Slowly, Arabella lifted her chin, but Rothwell wasn’t watching her. His eyes were fixed on the distant windows where the rain still drummed, deep frown lines etched on his brow.
“Best keep your questions for later,” Holland said to Rothwell as he rushed back into the room. When the man held out an opened blanket, Arabella allowed him to wrap her up in it and gently press her into a chair.
When Holland was done wrapping her snugly in the blanket, he moved to Rothwell’s side. “She’s had a terrible fright and will need time to calm her mind.”
“Of course.” Rothwell caught her watching them and his lips lifted in a smile Arabella found infinitely reassuring. “You’re safe here, Lady Farnsworth. I promise you that.”
“There’s tea coming,” Holland added helpfully.
Arabella nodded, sinking farther into the soft wool blanket and hoping the night was all a very bad dream. “Tea. Yes, tea will fix everything, I expect.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Merrick wasn’t a violent man, but given the last startling hour, he could be persuaded to kill easily enough. He’d stood aside when Holland had fussed over Arabella, keeping her close to the fire and forcing hot tea down her bruised throat. Holland was a natural at mothering. He’d continued to reassure Arabella that Farnsworth would never learn her location whenever a door closed with too loud a bang. Given her extreme anxiety about Farnsworth being summoned, Merrick could only assume that Farnsworth was somehow involved. The bruises forming across Lady Farnsworth’s skin enraged him still, but he’d held back his questions as Holland had advised.
Had his own actions today concerning the purchase of her home incited Farnsworth to anger? Their bargaining had been brisk during the day and he was afraid their negotiations, on top of his daughter’s elopement, had pushed Farnsworth into a temper.
He approached the huddled woman and perched on the footstool placed close to her knees. “Do you feel calm enough now to tell me what happened?”
Her head lifted a touch but she did not meet his eyes directly. “I shouldn’t imagine I will ever be, but you’ve been so considerate. You deserve to know what brought me here.”