Pursuing Arabella, however, was a goal he could relish. And so was overcoming her resistance. Marcus thought he understood why she was so ardently opposed to marriage. He was confident, however, that he would eventually prevail in gaining her surrender.
Yet he only had two weeks to achieve it.
Suddenly impatient, Marcus spurred his horse to greater speed to return to his newest estate. He had missives to send to London. For the sooner he could devise a romantic courtship of Arabella, the sooner he could declare victory.
By the time she arrived home two hours later, Arabella had pondered the earl’s astonishing wager long enough to judge it imperative for her to develop an offensive strategy.
Lord Danvers believed he could seduce her into accepting his proposal of marriage, but while she was firmly resolved never to wed him, she was at a severe disadvantage in their competition, having so little experience in dealing with a nobleman of his stamp.
And he is almost irresistibly seductive, Arabella reflected as she dismounted in the stableyard. Involuntarily, her fingers rose again to her lips at the memory of his devastating kisses. If her melting response this afternoon was any indication, she would be hard-pressed to withstand temptation.
She was eager to begin, however, for she intended to win freedom for herself and her sisters. It might even prove enjoyable, trying to match wits with Lord Danvers.
The first step, of course, was to contrive a plan to foil his seduction. Certainly, if he hoped to woo her, she would have to make him work at it.
She also would have to write Fanny immediately and get her advice. Fanny Irwin was a renowned Cyprian who had once been a genteel young lady herself. She’d practically grown up with the Loring sisters in Hampshire, where they were near neighbors. Even after Fanny had run off at sixteen to make her fortune in London, they had maintained the close friendship.
Since Arabella’s broken engagement, Fanny had taught her a good deal about men. Fanny would know much better than she how to rout Lord Danvers.
Meanwhile, Arabella mused, she would be wise to use every resource at her disposal, which meant enlisting help from trusted allies, beginning with her housekeeper and butler.
Feeling an unexpected tingle of anticipation, Arabella left her horse in the stables with one of his lordship’s grooms and detoured to the kitchens to meet with Mrs. Simpkin. The housekeeper, who had also become cook when the rest of the staff was let go, regularly prepared tasty if modest meals with the aid of their one chambermaid. And even though three days ago the new earl had installed a dozen servants at the Hall, Mrs. Simpkin still held sway in the kitchens.
If the elderly woman was puzzled by Arabella’s unusual request for that evening’s dinner, she was too well-trained to show it. But the twinkle in her kind brown eyes suggested a willingness to abet the conspiracy.
“Oh, and Mrs. Simpkin,” Arabella added casually, “I would be obliged if Simpkin would remain in the dining room when he waits on us this evening. I would prefer to be alone with Lord Danvers as little as possible.”
“I will tell him, Miss Arabella,” Mrs. Simpkin said. “Would you also like Simpkin to be present beforehand? Lord Danvers has asked that you join him in the drawing room for a glass of wine before dinner.”
“Yes, please,” Arabella answered, glad that the housekeeper had readily agreed to aid her cause.
After washing, Arabella dressed for dinner in the most conservative evening gown she owned. Her wardrobe was not extensive, and most of her gowns were outdated and had grown shabby with wear. But upon opening the academy, she’d invested in several fashionable gowns to impress her pupils’ wealthy parents. After all, she had her image as a lady of quality to uphold.
When she regarded herself critically in the cheval glass, however, Arabella found her appearance rather dissatisfying. Her empire-waist gown of dark blue silk boasted long sleeves and a high neckline, and thus exposed little of her charms. But her flushed cheeks betrayed her excitement at the prospect of spending the evening in his lordship’s company.
How dull her existence had become if his presence could enliven her life so profoundly! Or perhaps it was merely the anticipation of locking horns with the earl as they strove to best each other.
At the thought, Arabella felt herself smile. She had every intention of besting him. She would play his game to win.
Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she left her bedchamber to launch her opening salvo in their courtship war.
When she reached the drawing room below, Simpkin awaited her outside in the corridor. The gray-haired, very proper butler offered Arabella the ghost of a conspiratorial smile before preceding her into the room and announcing her. “Miss Loring, my Lord Danvers.”
Marcus rose when she entered. His blue gaze raked over Arabella, taking in her reserved attire, but he made no comment other than one of greeting. “Welcome, my dear. I am pleased you could join me.”
At his avuncular tone, Arabella gave him a curious glance, but then realized he meant to treat her merely as his ward for the benefit of the serving staff.
“Come and sit beside me,” Marcus added, indicating the gold brocade settee that had seen much better days.
Arabella hesitated, reluctant to be seated so close to him. He looked infernally handsome in a blue evening coat and white satin breeches that molded to his athletic form, and an intricately-tied cravat that only enhanced his chiseled masculine features.
Deploring her rapid pulse, Arabella did as she was bid but took the far end of the settee. She caught the pleasant scent of citrus cologne as Marcus settled at the other end. He had evidently shaved for the evening, a disturbing realization since it implied he was taking his courtship of her very seriously.
“That will be all until dinner is served, Simpkin,” his lordship said when the butler had poured them each a glass of Madeira. “You may shut the door behind you.”
Hiding her concern, Arabella met Simpkin’s gaze and nodded slightly in resignation. Already Lord Danvers was scuttling her plan to avoid being alone with him. She was maddeningly conscious of his lithe, powerful body lounging so near to hers.
“Was it necessary to dismiss Simpkin?” she asked when the servant had withdrawn. “It isn’t quite seemly for us to be alone together like this.”
“Nonsense,” Marcus responded easily. “There is no impropriety in a guardian sharing a glass of wine with his ward. And it is indeed necessary, since I need a measure of privacy in order to woo you.”
Not having a ready reply, Arabella took a sip of her wine and hid her grimace at the bitter taste…along with her satisfaction. Mrs. Simpkin had succeeded in making the brew unpalatable as she had requested.
“About our wager,” Arabella began, “I have been thinking. Perhaps we should establish some basic rules of conduct.”
“Rules?”
“I suppose limits would be a better word. We should define what conduct is allowed and not allowed between us to prevent you from going beyond the bounds of a proper courtship.”
Marcus sent her a lazy smile that was full of charm. “Haven’t you heard that all is fair in love and war?”
Arabella found herself staring at his mouth. “You know very well our wager has nothing to do with love, my lord. But that is precisely my point. How can I trust that you won’t resort to something devious?”
“Because wagers are governed by a gentleman’s code. My honor will only permit me to go so far.”
Her mouth curved. “That is comforting to know.”
“You should not be comforted,” Marcus remarked. “I still have a great deal of leeway within the bounds of the code.” He laughed softly at her worried expression. “Never fear, sweeting. I won’t do anything to you unless you are completely willing.”