“Don’t pay Miss Newstead any mind, Miss Fletcher. You have made me feel quite at home. My younger sister Eleanor doused me quite regularly when she was learning to pour. I don’t envy you ladies, having to negotiate so many delicate operations. I would be all thumbs.”
The scarlet-faced Miss Fletcher flashed him a worshipful look of gratitude, while Sybil Newstead shot him a sullen look of vexation.
Arabella, too, was supremely grateful to Marcus for his kindness, but she waited to tell him so until after the class had ended and Tess had shepherded all the girls from the drawing room.
“That was very well done of you, my lord,” she said after the footmen had withdrawn.
“I am glad you appreciate my sacrifice,” Marcus replied lightly. “You can’t imagine how painful it was, having to fend off a bevy of giggling schoolgirls. I was squirming the entire time.”
That brought Arabella’s laugh bubbling up. “No one could tell you were the least discomfited.”
Marcus eyed her narrowly. “You enjoyed seeing me at such a disadvantage, didn’t you, vixen?”
“Only a little.” She had indeed expected him to be disadvantaged by the circumstances she had purposely thrown at him, but he had won her admiration instead. “I do appreciate your sacrifice, truly. Our parents will be highly impressed that their daughters took tea with a genuine earl.”
His mocking smile was enticing. “Anything for you, my charmer.”
Arabella’s expression sobered. “Seriously, Marcus, I must thank you for today. You handled our pupils with admirable tact and grace, especially Miss Fletcher.”
“I’m pleased to have won your approbation, but you can thank my sister for educating me on how to deal with young ladies.” He rose from the settee and offered his hand to Arabella, who also stood. “Allow me to escort you home in my carriage.”
For once she was sorry to have to refuse his company. “Forgive me, but I cannot leave just yet. I need to speak privately with Gladys Fletcher to make certain she hasn’t suffered any lasting trauma from the spilled tea incident. And I want to have a word with Sybil Newstead as well.”
“She is a little witch, isn’t she?”
“Indeed. Girls that age can be savage, and Sybil is the worst. She is our wealthiest heiress and our most troublesome, even though this is only her first year. Keeping control of her has been difficult.”
“What did she do that was so egregious?”
“What hasn’t she done? She smuggled three bottles of brandy into the dormitory and made half her schoolmates drunk. She tried to seduce a footman and had him so flustered that he begged to be sent to another place of employment. She ran up enormous bills at her dressmakers, so that her father threatened to withdraw her from school if we couldn’t keep a tighter rein on her. Since then we’ve had to employ a full-time maid to keep a careful watch on her.”
Marcus chuckled. “Your other pupils are clearly fond of you. You have an impressive way with them.”
“Thank you,” Arabella replied earnestly as she accompanied him to the drawing room door. “I try to mold their characters as well as polish their manners, but mainly I strive to give them the confidence to overcome their lack of genteel birth. I don’t believe anyone should be condemned simply because her blood is not blue.”
“Your radical notions would not sit well with our peers,” Marcus said humorously. When they reached the corridor, he paused. “You will have dinner with me this evening?”
Arabella hesitated. “Yes, but I forgot to mention, I have invited our patroness, Lady Freemantle, to dine with us.”
Marcus sent her a knowing look. “So you can avoid being alone with me.”
She dimpled. “In large part. But also because Winifred is eager to make your acquaintance. She has met you on several occasions, although she doubts that you remember her.”
“Oh, I remember her. She is very hard to forget.”
“That she is,” Arabella agreed. Winifred Freemantle was a large, ruddy-faced woman with a booming voice and an accent that betrayed her lower class origins. “But she is a dear friend.”
“And obviously one of your staunchest allies. In that case, it will behoove me to try to impress her. I will have my carriage return here shortly to bring you home.”
Arabella nodded before summoning a footman with instructions to escort Lord Danvers to his carriage. When Marcus had taken his leave of her, she turned the opposite way in order to seek out her pupils, but she still felt that little glow of warmth that had lingered throughout his entire visit.
Her benevolent feelings did not last through dinner.
That evening when Lady Freemantle arrived, Marcus was all attentive charm, and Winifred succumbed to his blandishments like butter melting under a hot sun. By their first glass of wine, he was well on the way to winning her over as an ally.
In his defense, Arabella admitted with grudging admiration, he truly seemed to enjoy her ladyship’s company.
Nearly a decade older than Marcus, Winifred treated him with matronly affection, although there was nothing matronly about her heavy-boned, mannish features and coarse manners that were more at home in the stables than an elegant drawing room. But her jovial nature was so warm and infectious that the two of them were soon laughing and sharing tales of their London acquaintances. Much worse, Winifred began confiding in Marcus as if they were old cronies.
Arabella’s heart sank as she watched. She had counted on her friend to champion her cause against Marcus, but it was clear before they even went in to dinner that he had made another conquest.
Once again the meal was delicious-sole in cream sauce, fricassee of rabbit, pigeon pie, and Winifred’s favorite, a roast of beef, with tarts and syllabub for the sweets. Yet Arabella didn’t find the dishes quite as delectable when the subject somehow turned to matrimony.
“My beauty isn’t what appealed to Sir Rupert, as you can tell,” her ladyship said with frank good humor. “ ’Twas the size of my dowry, no mistake. A large dowry can cover up any number of faults in a female, even homely looks.”
Marcus sent Arabella an innocent glance. “I had planned to settle a large sum on my wards.”
Beaming at him, Winifred bobbed her head in approval. “I knew you were a right ’un, Lord Danvers. I’ve worried prodigiously about Arabella and her sisters these past few years. But a dowry will make it much easier for them to find husbands.”
“Winifred,” Arabella protested. “I thought you supported our intentions to remain single.”
“No, dear. I want you to have a choice about who…whom you wed, but you need to marry eventually. That’s the only future for a lady of quality.”
“I have been trying to tell her so,” Marcus said, his eyes laughing.
“You should listen to your guardian, Arabella,” Winifred said quite seriously. “Lord Danvers might even be willing to drum up some good candidates for you. Suitable husbands don’t grow on trees, you know. With his connections, you might be able to make a good match after all.”
“Well, actually…” Marcus remarked, “I already have found the ideal candidate for her.”
Winifred turned to him with keen curiosity. “Who?”
“Myself. I have proposed to Miss Loring, but she has refused.”
Her ladyship looked startled, while Arabella shot him a reproachful glance. She hadn’t yet told her friend about Marcus’s proposal or their wager, and she regretted that he had brought it up now when she would rather have explained the situation to Winifred in private.
Winifred was still eyeing him in disbelief. “Is that the truth? You proposed, my lord? I wouldn’t have taken you for the marrying kind.”
“I wasn’t until last week. I took one look at Miss Loring and was smitten.”
Her ladyship’s chuckle resembled something of a horse’s whinny, while her brown eyes started dancing. “I always heard you were a wicked charmer. I can see why you have a bevy of lovestruck mistresses and admirers all trying to set traps for you.”