She tried to keep her eagerness under control as she drove the gig around to the stables and turned it over to a groom, yet she found herself hurrying toward the house.
Simpkin met her in the corridor to take her spencer and bonnet and to announce a visitor. “Lady Loring has called, Miss Arabella.”
Arabella froze, not certain she had heard correctly. “My mother is here?”
“Yes. I have put her in the small salon.”
She felt the color drain from her face. When she swayed dizzily, Simpkin instantly became concerned. “Are you unwell, Miss Arabella?”
“No… I am just…surprised.” Although shocked, dismayed, bewildered were more descriptive of her feelings.
To think her mother had come to call after all this time. What in heaven’s name did she want? And where had she come from? Four years ago Victoria had reportedly fled with her lover to the coast of Brittany in France, near Brest, when Britain was still at war with France. Travel was perilous and any communication between the two countries was unpredictable at best. But they’d heard nothing more about her, not even after the long war ended with Napoleon’s abdication the following year.
Her footsteps hesitant, Arabella walked slowly down the corridor to the salon and paused on the threshold to observe the familiar stranger seated on the settee.
She was unmistakably a lady, fair-haired and elegant. In looks, Victoria most resembled Roslyn, with the same golden delicacy and aristocratic bearing. And she was still quite beautiful. Even though she had borne three children and endured a scandalous widowhood, the years had been kind to her.
At the sight of her, a chaos of emotions flooded Arabella, along with a rush of painful memories. Then Victoria looked up, her expression hesitant, vulnerable…even fearful.
Reflexively, Arabella felt her hands clench with anger and bittersweet happiness. She had never forgiven her mother for abandoning her and her sisters and leaving them mired in scandal. And yet some part of her was overjoyed to see Victoria again.
Trying to remain calm, Arabella entered the room but kept her distance. When her mother simply watched her warily, she broke the taut silence. “What brings you here, Mama?”
“You, of course,” came the quiet answer. “I wanted to know how my daughters are faring.”
Arabella couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. “After four years without even a word, you suddenly care how we are faring?”
“I have always cared. It is wonderful to see you again, Arabella.” Victoria patted the seat cushion beside her. “Will you come and sit with me?”
“I prefer to stand, thank you.”
A small, sad smile twisted her mother’s mouth. “I knew you would not forgive me. I told him so.”
“Him?”
Victoria sighed. “Lord Danvers.”
Arabella’s brow furrowed. “What does he have to say to the matter?”
“He is the reason I am here. His lordship sent a ship to France this week to escort me home to England. His secretary met me in Dover yesterday, and his carriage brought me here today.”
Marcus had hunted down her mother in France? Arabella wondered, a little stunned. “Whatever for?”
“Because he has hopes that I can reconcile with my daughters. At the very least, he is determined that I explain…and apologize to you for what I did.”
Her eyes widened as she stared at her mother. “What explanation could you possibly give that would excuse abandoning your children the heartless way you did? You walked out of our lives, Mama, without even a single word of farewell, and then left us to deal with Papa’s death all alone.”
“I am so very sorry, Arabella.”
Her mouth tightened. “Isn’t it a bit late for apologies? It all happened a long time ago, so I’m not certain there is any point in even discussing it.”
Wincing, Victoria held up a hand. “Please, won’t you at least listen to my side of the tale?”
“Very well,” Arabella said finally.
“You had best sit down. It is a long story.”
Reluctantly, she moved to claim a wing chair across from the settee. Her mother searched her face for a long moment before finally saying in a low voice, “Truly, I am sorry for ruining your life, Arabella. I never meant to hurt you and Roslyn and Lilian.”
“But you did, Mama.” A savage ache tightened her throat. “More than you can imagine. We were all devastated by your leaving, especially Lily. She cried for weeks afterward.”
“I…know. I should have considered how my conduct would have affected you. I should have put my daughters first. But once I took the first step, my actions became irrevocable.”
“I don’t see how.”
Victoria bit her lower lip. “You have to understand how bitterly unhappy my marriage to your father was.”
“Oh, I understand,” Arabella responded. “How could I not after watching you and Papa fight so savagely for so many years? But your unhappiness hardly justifies adultery.”
Victoria winced again as if from a blow. “Perhaps not, but I was terribly lonely. I am sure you know that your father kept a series of mistresses.”
“I could hardly be ignorant of the fact,” Arabella said, her tone acrid.
“Charles once was discreet about his affairs, but when he began flaunting his mistresses in my face, I couldn’t bear it any longer.”
“So you took a lover because you wanted revenge.”
“It was not that simple, Arabella. I suppose I wanted revenge, but mostly I wanted…intimacy. I met Henri Vachel in London. He had come to England as a boy, after his parents were guillotined during the Terror. His mother’s family was English, so he lived with them in Surrey. Henri was so gentle and kind… After your father’s neglect, it is not surprising that I responded to him.”
When Arabella remained silent, Victoria plowed ahead doggedly. “When your father found out, he was furious about being cuckolded. It was perfectly permissible for him to make a mockery of our marriage vows but not his lady wife. Charles demanded that I leave England and never show my face again, and he threatened to kill Henri if I didn’t. I knew he would, Arabella.”
She gave a skeptical frown. “That is not what Papa told us. He said you developed a violent passion for your lover and fled to France to be with him.”
“Of course Charles would claim so, since he wished to make me the villain. But it wasn’t true. I didn’t love Henri. Not then. And I only left because your father compelled me to do so.”
Crossing her arms defensively over her chest, Arabella stared. “Papa was killed two weeks later in a duel, Mama. You could have returned to England then.”
“No, I could not,” Victoria said with regret. “Because of the war it was months before I learned I was a widow, and by then my stepbrother had guardianship of you. Lionel was so enraged with me, he refused to let me return. He vowed to withdraw his financial support for you and your sisters-to throw you out into the streets-if I didn’t keep away so that the scandal could die down. In any event…I thought you were better off without me after the disgrace I caused.”
Arabella’s resistance softened a little. Was it possible Mama hadn’t completely turned her back on her daughters after all? It was at least believable that their step-uncle had threatened to drive them from his home, since he had never wanted responsibility for them in the first place. But that did not wholly absolve her mother’s deeds. “You could have written, Mama.”
“I did. Every week for a full year. Henri used his smuggling connections to have my letters delivered from France. But I never knew what happened to them until just recently. Lionel burned them all.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“Your butler, Simpkin, told Lord Danvers. Danvers questioned him quite carefully about the matter. Lionel flew into a rage each time one of my letters arrived and threw every one in the fire. If you don’t believe me, you may talk to Simpkin. He can confirm that account. Lionel hated me so much by then that he cut off all communication with me.”