A warm flush washed over her, making her feel almost light-headed. For a long moment as their gazes held, the rest of the world faded away and only the two of them existed. Eventually, however, the music came to an end.
Arabella was oddly sorry when Marcus bowed to her and turned her over to yet another gentleman. And admittedly, every subsequent dance afterward seemed rather flat to her. Being with Marcus, she had felt almost…jubilant.
Then again, Arabella reminded herself, he had that effect on a good number of people, especially the female population. For the next hour, she watched Marcus work his charm on the company. He dutifully danced with every one of her pupils and awed their wealthy parents, much to her gratitude. Such rare attentiveness from an earl would highly benefit her academy, Arabella knew. But the female guests fawned all over him not simply because of his rank and stature but because he was so charismatic and compelling.
He secured a second dance each with Roslyn and Lily, also. It was interesting to watch her sisters’ reactions toward Marcus. Roslyn treated him with thoughtful reserve, while Lily was unusually cool. Yet both clearly understood the extraordinary effort he was making on their behalf tonight, as did Arabella.
It had been something of a revelation for her earlier when Marcus had made her question her feelings about her newfound acceptance. The ton’s approval was not so very important to her now, she was surprised to realize. She was supremely grateful for her sisters’ sake, though. Particularly Roslyn.
After the virtual destruction of their lives four years ago, they each had responded differently: Arabella had become fiercely set on gaining independence. Lily had rebelled outright. And Roslyn had vowed to make her own fate rather than becoming some wealthy gentleman’s mistress.
Roslyn’s alluring beauty enchanted men of all types, and out of sheer self-defense, she’d become expert at warding off the pestering advances of unsuitable admirers. It warmed Arabella’s heart, therefore, to see the legitimate attention her sister was receiving just now from one of their noble neighbors, Rayne Kenyon, the Earl of Haviland.
Lord Haviland was the black sheep of his family who had unexpectedly inherited the title earlier this year. His dark, dangerous looks were a perfect foil for Roslyn’s delicate fairness. But despite the fact that they appeared opposites, Arabella suspected that Roslyn had developed a secret tendre for the earl. Her lovely cheeks were flushed now with animation as she conversed with him.
Arabella’s delight in seeing her sister’s happiness, however, abruptly faded when she recognized the fashionable young buck who had just sauntered up to Roslyn.
Despite his relative youth, Mr. Jasper Onslow was dangerous to any lady’s reputation. A rake and a wastrel who urgently needed to marry a fortune, Onslow was one of the scoundrels who had propositioned Roslyn barely three months ago, offering to set her up as his mistress in a cozy love nest in London.
That he dared approach Roslyn now had Arabella bristling with anger and outrage. She had just started across the ballroom floor to intervene when Lord Haviland said something to Onslow that sent the blackguard packing. In response, Roslyn bestowed such a breathtaking smile of gratitude on his lordship that he went completely still, clearly captivated by her expression.
Halting her needless attempt at rescue, Arabella breathed a sigh of relief and muttered “Thank heavens” under her breath.
“Why are you so thankful?” Marcus asked curiously at her shoulder.
With a start, Arabella turned to glance up at him. “Oh, no particular reason,” she replied quickly, not wanting to trouble him further with her sisters’ affairs.
But he evidently had seen some of the interchange involving Roslyn, for his perceptive gaze lingered on her thoughtfully before returning to Arabella. “You will let me know if she needs my help?”
At his kindness, Arabella felt her heart twist with an odd little ache. “I will, thank you. Fortunately, your assistance appears unnecessary at the moment.”
Marcus nodded, apparently willing to let the matter drop. “It is time for supper,” he said instead. “Shall we collect your sisters and proceed to the buffet?”
When he offered his arm, Arabella willingly took it.
The fare proved delicious, with expensive delicacies such as lobster patties and meringues that the Loring sisters rarely enjoyed. Lady Freemantle and Tess joined their table, so Marcus had five ladies on his hands. Arabella would have invited Lord Haviland to eat with them, except that he had already taken his leave of the ball. Roslyn’s private smile, however, suggested that her evening had turned out better than she could have hoped.
Their party was surprisingly jovial, since Winifred kept them entertained with tales of her late husband and Marcus did likewise with stories about the sporting exploits he and the Duke of Arden and the Marquess of Claybourne indulged in. By the time supper concluded, Arabella was feeling a pleasant little glow that had more to do with seeing her sisters genuinely happy for the first time in years than with the warmth of the night or the costly wine she had drunk.
When Marcus escorted her back to the ballroom, however, she came up short, for she had suddenly spied Jasper Onslow again. This time he was showering his attention on her most vexing pupil, Sybil Newstead. From all appearances, Sybil was flirting outrageously with him.
Quickly Arabella glanced around the ballroom, searching for the girl’s chaperone, who was nowhere in sight.
Just then Sybil turned and slipped out the French doors that led to the terrace, with Onslow following behind her a moment later.
“Oh, my word,” Arabella muttered in dismay.
“What is wrong?” Marcus asked.
“Sybil has just disappeared outside alone with a gazetted rake. Her father will have an apoplectic fit if his precious child is allowed to become the target of a fortune hunter.”
She began moving toward the doors, but Marcus detained her with a hand on her arm. “So why is that your concern?”
She eyed him in exasperation. “If it happens while under our care, Mr. Newstead will blame us for negligence and will likely withdraw Sybil from the academy-and other parents could follow suit.” Arabella glanced impatiently at the French doors. “That irksome chit has very little sense, but I must save her from herself. I cannot let her ruin herself or our school’s reputation.”
“Allow me to help.”
She hesitated. “Would you mind terribly?”
“If I minded, I would not have offered.”
“Very well then, I would appreciate your help.”
“Tell me what you know about this fortune hunter.”
As he took Arabella’s arm and casually strolled toward the French doors, she related something of Jasper Onslow’s background-how the young man had run up huge gaming debts in London and often rusticated here at his parents’ country estate in order to escape his creditors.
Marcus nodded in understanding, but when they reached the doors, he paused to gaze out at the darkened terrace. Through a part in the chintz draperies, Arabella could see the dismaying spectacle of Sybil locked in a passionate embrace with Jasper Onslow.
“Wait here,” Marcus murmured. “I can better handle this alone.”
When he stepped outside, Arabella could hear the conversation well enough.
“Ah, there you are, Miss Newstead, I have been searching for you.”
Sybil jumped two feet and scrambled to break away from her lover, then hurried to wipe her damp lips while staring at Marcus in evident chagrin. “M-my l-lord…how you startled me…”
“I could see that.” Arabella could hear the wry smile in his voice when he added lazily, “My apologies if I interrupted anything of import, but you promised me another dance.”
When Sybil looked puzzled, Arabella realized they had made no such arrangement, but before the girl could reply, Marcus addressed Jasper. “Sorry, old fellow, but I have prior claim on this little heartbreaker.” He held out his arm to Sybil. “Will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”