Lady Cecily was swiftly building her own reputation as a hoyden. She would ruin herself if she didn’t exercise more care, and she would drag Lady Farnsworth’s good name down with her.
“She’s really very lovely,” Arabella said firmly, although Merrick thought her words lacked a degree of conviction, as if they were well rehearsed.
He didn’t answer but raised a brow, daring her to say something unflattering. It would be the first time ever to his knowledge.
When Arabella instead turned decisively for the key in the door, Merrick pressed his hand back to the door to hold it closed a little longer. He eased close to her one last time and inhaled the subtle fragrance that clung to her. Roses had never smelled as sweet. “Thank you for the kiss.”
Her eyes met his over her shoulder, her expression one of utter astonishment. “Oh, no. Thank you, Rothwell. Thank you very much.”
~ * ~
Arabella stumbled into the hall on legs of wet clay and attempted to appear unruffled by her private encounter with Lord Rothwell. The man could kiss a woman so well she practically melted into a puddle at his feet. Arabella desperately needed a moment to gather her thoughts and to understand what had just happened between them. How could that man kiss her so soundly and yet have been waiting for Lady Harrison to join him instead?
And he’d thanked her for one kiss!
She snapped her fan open and created a cooling breeze across her face. She was sure her cheeks must be bright red from the excitement and delightful shock of his attention. Part of her wished she could go back and let him continue with everything else that kiss had promised. Yet the other half, the sensible and rational half, whispered its terror that she might never get enough and would make a fool of herself over the rogue.
If not for Cecily needing to be found, she might still be in Rothwell’s arms and happy to remain there. If that was how most men behaved when alone with a widow, she was terrified of what the somewhat bolder Cecily might allow when faced with another man of similar skill. That girl had no idea how close to scandal she skirted or what that would mean for others if she were ruined and discarded. It would be a catastrophe.
Properly panicked by how easily she’d forgotten her responsibilities while in Rothwell’s arms, Arabella glided back into the ballroom, hoping to appear unruffled, and glanced around carefully. The whole room wasn’t staring at her, but she feared at any moment they would turn and ask her if she agreed with the gossip about Rothwell’s appeal to women. There was no way she could deny it now.
She followed a footman through the crowd, skirting along the side bordering the terrace door in search of a cooling breeze along with her niece. She caught her gown in her hands as she spied the exact color of Cecily’s peach muslin gown flittering away from her. She followed Cecily as quickly as she could, rather glad that the direction would take her away from Lord Rothwell. After experiencing his kiss, his presence would be unbearable now.
She inched through the crowded ballroom, apologizing profusely as she squeezed past revelers; however, there was no sign of Cecily on the dance floor or trapped near the wall by one of the groups milling about, which meant that her niece had successfully slipped out of the ballroom, most likely through the open terrace door ahead. Farnsworth would be livid when he found out she’d courted scandal and would likely blame Arabella yet again for his daughter’s exasperating behavior.
Arabella gained the terrace and peered into the darkened corners in search of Cecily. Not a shape could be seen in the shadows of the garden’s shrubbery, which was lit by the waning moon above. But then she caught a whispered word, just beneath the volume of the ball taking place behind her. A trickle of dread caressed her spine and she eased further along the terrace until she’d left the safety of candlelight spilling from the ballroom. She stopped in a patch of deep shadow with her breath held and waited.
When her eyes had adjusted to the gloom, she detected a couple, a tall man and a woman of slight build, standing below her on the lawn beside a garden statue. The couple also appeared to be kissing very passionately.
She squinted at them, praying her first suspicion was wrong. Her niece would not be so easily led astray, yet it might just be Cecily. Although the fellow below needed to bend considerably to kiss the woman, he was very tall, lean, and the gold buttons of his coat shone brightly. He reminded Arabella of a stork. She groaned. Lieutenant Laurence Ford, one of Rothwell’s cousins, in fact, fit that description and had been flirting with Cecily since they’d first met nearly two months ago.
Arabella drew in a deep breath, ready to descend and break the would-be lovers apart, but a firm hand curled over her gloved arm and held her still.
“Stay here,” Lord Rothwell said quietly, appearing at her side as if from thin air. His touch slid down her arm in a slow caress and he squeezed her hand briefly. “I’ll send her back to you.”
At a loss for words, Arabella stared at him. The sensations he’d stirred in her during their kiss returned, but gaining Lord Rothwell’s assistance to avoid scandal was the last thing she’d counted on. Before she could assure him that assistance was unnecessary, he was gone, rushing down the stairs, separating the lovers by force, speaking harshly to them both. Although she strained, she could hear none of Rothwell’s remarks clearly. But given the tone and the way the lieutenant drew back, Rothwell had clearly made a good argument for a return to decorum.
Cecily persisted, however, and stepped toward Lieutenant Ford again. The young man shook his head and backed up several steps.
“Return to your aunt before you cause her even more embarrassment than your current behavior has,” Rothwell urged in a louder, clearer voice. He turned on his cousin. “And you, Aunt Pen is here, you fool. Do you really want everyone to hear her opinion on your behavior tonight?”
Lieutenant Ford’s shoulders sagged in defeat. It seemed there were more people besides Arabella eager to remain on Lady Penelope Ford’s good side. Even grown members of her family seemed intimidated. Arabella thought Lieutenant Ford very sensible at that moment.
For a few perilous seconds, Cecily held her ground, but then her niece fled back toward the terrace where Arabella waited. Cecily’s face was a mask of mutinous fury, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. The girl stopped a few paces away. “Do you have any idea what your meddling has ruined?”
“Cecily, please. Your father demands…”
“Don’t you dare speak to me again tonight. You’re just like Father. I will never get to have any fun or have a say in my life if you support him and not me. It isn’t fair.” Then, with a noticeable effort, Arabella’s niece drew in a shuddering breath and calmed her temper. Cecily smiled serenely, turned on her heel, and strolled to the ballroom, pausing in the doorway a moment before gliding through as if she had not just been caught acting inappropriately.
Arabella glanced at Rothwell where he stood with Lieutenant Ford on the lawn and remembered their earlier conversation. Rothwell had been adamant that Cecily would never be with him, which Arabella feared meant he knew something unpleasant about the girl and meant to avoid being linked to Cecily at all costs. She winced. She didn’t know what to do about her niece’s shocking behavior. She seemed completely without remorse for the scandal she was courting.
Arabella wanted to give Cecily the benefit of the doubt, hoping she’d misjudged the girl’s nature. She would pay more attention to the girl and relegate her own hopes for a lover this season to a date well past Cecily’s wedding. The girl desperately needed her guidance and a firmer hand if she wanted to make a good match.