She touched her face again and then moved to the mirror. The bruise was not as bad as she had imagined this morning, but it definitely did not make her pretty in any way. She lifted her chin and moved her damp hair back over her shoulder to inspect the bruises made by Farnsworth’s hand about her throat. A shudder raked her. She’d never been subjected to violence before. Her father had been the gentlest of men, and her late husband had left her alone. At no time in the past had she ever imagined Farnsworth capable of such cruelty, although his temper was easily provoked.
Arabella pulled her hair forward so it covered her neck and the bruised side of her face. She would keep it down today to hide the damage even from her own eyes. She poured another cup of lukewarm chocolate from the pot and settled in a chair to think. Perhaps if she was as undemanding as possible, Rothwell might allow her to remain hidden in his house for today and maybe, if she was extremely lucky, until she was fully restored to her usual appearance. She couldn’t face the world like this, but to make plans for her future she would have to speak to others. At the moment, she might only have the courage to let Rothwell see her face. He’d been so kind, but she didn’t want to shock him. There was nothing else she could do now but wait for her appearance to heal itself or for Rothwell to grow bored with the situation and suggest an alternative that involved leaving.
~ * ~
Sometimes to get to the heart of an issue, a man has to skirt very close to the border without actually asking a direct question. Merrick judged himself most fortunate for crossing paths with Mr. Milne outside the coffee house he frequented and garnering an invitation to step inside the man’s home for a drink after their short walk. He wouldn’t quibble at so sudden an invitation, and with any luck, he would get the answers he needed to make a decision about Miss Milne.
He studied the numerous small curios that littered Mr. Milne’s desk and every other available surface in the room. “You have a lovely home. I imagine your wife, and to some degree your daughter, like everything just so.”
“That they do,” said Mr. Milne, nodding enthusiastically. “Sensible management leads to a well-run home. My own wife began with pin money of six hundred a year, but she’s a kind soul with an exceedingly generous heart to those less fortunate. My daughter takes after her in that respect. Always ready to spend a shilling for another’s comfort. They do love to patronize the craftsmen of our great city.”
“I honor them for their generosity.” Merrick smiled at Mr. Milne, judging the last few moments had considerably advanced his knowledge. Despite a timid nature at balls, Miss Milne appeared rather free with purchasing unnecessary things.
As many fathers in the merchant class were, Milne was eager to have his daughter marry into a titled family. He didn’t appear unduly concerned about his reputation today and had been rather happy to relate particulars of his daughter’s nature. He proudly boasted of her accomplishments and even mentioned some early setbacks best forgotten.
Such candidness pleased Merrick. He did not mind if his future wife had the odd incident in her past, nor a tendency to shop, so long as he was made aware of it before he proposed. He had enough scandals in his own family to make him a less-than-stellar candidate for marriage and had no illusions that his wife might have habits in her life best forgotten or at least overlooked.
Eager to be on his way home to his unexpected houseguest, he stood to leave a short time later. “I should be going and let you get on with your business. Thank you for seeing me, sir.”
Milne surged to his feet. “I say, Rothwell, is anything the matter? I would have thought you’d wish my daughter to be called down to speak with you.”
Merrick smiled. He was not ready to propose. He wanted to observe Miss Milne when she was not aware of his presence and also talk to her once or twice before he declared his interest. And he was later than he hoped to be in returning to Arabella. She had barely been out of his mind all day and had proved quite the distraction, but running into Milne had been an opportunity he hadn’t wanted to pass up. “Another time perhaps.”
Mr. Milne sat back, his hands resting on his overstretched belly. “Yes, indeed. I’ll likely see you next in Essex for the wedding. Looking forward to sampling the duke’s hospitality. They say Ford affairs are very fine.”
Merrick peered at Mr. Milne. “I had not known invitations had already been sent for my cousin’s wedding.”
“I had a note from Rutherford just this morning, inviting myself, my wife and my darling daughter to join him.” He touched the side of his nose with one finger and grinned. “Your grandfather assuredly plays a long game, but he will be proved right in the end.”
What the devil was this? “Will he?”
“It takes a brave man to stand in the Admiral’s way when he wants something done. I’ve no objection to his laying out the timetable at all for a match. Either way, we’ll each get what we want.” Milne saluted him with the remains of his drink. “Until the wedding.”
Merrick strode out, puzzling over what he’d learned. His grandfather was no friend to Mr. Milne. At least not to his knowledge. He’d never known they were acquainted, which had added to Miss Milne’s appeal. Until now. Was a scheme at play? Merrick had a sinking feeling he’d already been cast in the central role with Miss Milne as his leading lady. That his grandfather was likely meddling placed a pall over getting to know her. He had hoped to avoid family interference, but it might just be impossible.
As he reached the entrance hall, his remaining good humor vanished. Farnsworth stood before him, a condescending smile spreading over his face. “I say, Rothwell. Well met.”
Merrick itched to wipe that expression off his face. “Farnsworth.”
The stupid man came closer, giving Merrick a glimpse of the left side of his face. A cut oozed red at his hairline. Arabella hadn’t mentioned that she’d fought back, but he was pleased. A little harder and Arabella might have killed the man. A pity she had not.
Farnsworth’s expression grew serious. “Now, this is fortuitous. Do you have a moment?”
Whatever Farnsworth had to say would not be worth listening to. “Actually no. I have somewhere to be and cannot delay. Good day to you.”
“Wait. I wanted to warn you to be cautious. I was attacked in my home last night. A terribly brazen affair, indeed.” He pointed to the wound on his head. “I discovered the villains in my home quite by chance and routed them, or so I thought at the time.”
Farnsworth had to be joking. “Really? How terrible for you.”
“It was, but that is not the worst. You see, while they were taking my candlesticks and silverware out through the back window, my sister-in-law, Arabella, fled the house in a wild panic and hasn’t been seen since. I truly fear for her sanity. She must have been quite overset with fear for us all.”
Merrick stared at the man. This was how he would explain Arabella’s disappearance to any who questioned her whereabouts? The fool. Anyone who knew Arabella would know she wasn’t one to suffer panic without cause.
Farnsworth pointed to his wound again. “This is what they did to me. I truly fear for Arabella’s safety if the brigands followed her into the night. I dread to think what has happened to her. I am sure she fled far into Green Park. I followed long as I could, of course, but lost sight of her in the heavy rain. Keep your eyes open would you, and do be discreet. My dear Arabella means the world to me and to my daughter. We would hate to lose her though will gladly take her back no matter what evil has befallen her.”