Chapter 7
ARABELLA
F reddy tossed a raspberry in the air and caught it in his mouth. He grinned victoriously, the berry forming a small lump in his cheek.
Aunt Julia applauded.
“Stop that,” I scolded from my side of the tea table. “You’ll choke.”
In one swift motion, Freddy swiped a lump of butter over a piece of toast, taking an overly large bite. Had he forgotten what dire straits he was in? I felt a scowl forming on my brow as Freddy threw another raspberry into the air and caught it in his mouth again. He laughed.
Perhaps I should have let him sleep through breakfast another day.
My mood had been sour since the night before.
Sir William had asked me for one dance, but not for anything more.
And I had seen him dancing with at least five other young ladies, one of whom he had asked to dance a second time.
My observations had led me to believe that I wasn’t his first choice—at least not at the moment.
How could I possibly secure a proposal from a man within a month if I wasn’t his first choice?
I couldn’t eat any of the food on the tea table; my nerves alone were enough to fill my stomach. Instead I stared out the window and tried to ignore the way Freddy was devouring his raspberries.
“What is your plan for today, Arabella?” Aunt Julia asked as our maid, Hannah, cleared away our dishes. “The weather is lovely. We might promenade through Sydney Gardens? You know I would never object to taking tea in the Pump Room. Or perhaps we can visit Mrs. Ollerton.”
What I really wanted to do was stay inside the entire day. I had socialized far too much over the past few days. It was quite disheartening. If I was already this exhausted, how was I to survive the month? My heart pounded with dread, but I put on a smile. “I have no objection to any of it.”
Aunt Julia stood from the settee with a sudden burst of energy. “I shall fetch my bonnet.”
“Am I not invited to join?” Freddy asked with a look of mock dismay.
I eyed him. “Not dressed like that.” His shirt was wrinkled, rolled up to the elbows, and his hair stuck out straight on one side.
He frowned, smoothing a hand over the front of his chest. “I thought I looked dashing.”
I stared at him, trying not to appear too judgmental. With each passing year, he looked more like John—and more like our father. My heart pinched at the playful expression on Freddy’s face. It looked just like Papa’s.
I tried not to think of him often. Each time I did, the hole in my heart seemed to expand rather than heal.
We hadn’t lost him suddenly—he had been ill for a very long time.
But I had learned to always expect one more day with him, even when it had seemed unlikely.
The first day Papa was actually gone, I had scarcely believed it.
But then that day had turned into two, then three, and then to months and years.
Even fully grown as I was, there were moments my heart still ached like it had when I was a child.
Just when I thought I had forgotten Papa’s face, I saw it in Freddy’s.
Perhaps that was why I defended him so much.
Mama had been rather strict in raising us, but Papa had been far more forgiving of our mistakes.
He had always taught that everyone deserved mercy and more than a little understanding.
Mistakes were part of life, but what mattered was that we learned from them.
I hoped that Freddy had learned from his.
I didn’t want him to become like John.
I tried not to resent Freddy’s mistake, but the pressure to save our family was mounting, and I felt it in every breath.
Why couldn’t Freddy marry an heiress instead?
That thought had crossed my mind, but what woman would wish to marry a man of nineteen years with severe debt, poor judgement, and a wrinkled shirt?
“What are you staring at?” Freddy asked, fishing a raspberry seed from between his two front teeth.
“Nothing.”
He eyed me suspiciously before standing, stretching his back. “I’ll go change since you find me so unsightly. A bit of fresh air will serve me well, I think.”
I nodded, keeping my hands folded in my lap as Freddy took his leave of the small drawing room.
I had already spent several minutes critically evaluating every inch of my presentation in the mirror that morning.
My pale pink dress was perfect for a morning promenade.
My hair was pristine, my gloves sat folded on the side table alongside my bonnet, and my parasol was tucked into the corner by the fireplace.
I had made a habit of being prepared for any situation.
I released a tense breath from my lungs. A visit to Kate was precisely what I needed to raise my spirits. Hopefully she would have a few pieces of advice to offer. I suspected I would have to rely on her if I was going to succeed with Sir William or anyone else.
A firm knock on the door startled me. Hannah had returned to the drawing room to gather the teacups, and they clattered together as she jumped even more dramatically than I had.
“Who on earth could that be?” I asked, meeting her wide gaze. We didn’t often receive callers. In fact, this might have been the first one since our arrival in Bath.
“Shall I see?” Hannah asked in a hesitant voice. We only had money and space for one servant, and Hannah had been working hard to fulfill all the roles of a maid. I wouldn’t force her to be a butler as well.
“I’ll go.” I stood quickly. “I imagine it’s only Mrs. Ollerton.” My brow furrowed as I approached the small entryway.
My curiosity burned as I tugged open the door.
I took a minuscule step backward in alarm at the sight in front of me, but managed to hide the immense shock from my expression.
I was wrong. I wasn’t properly prepared for any situation.
I most certainly hadn’t been prepared to see Mr. Colin Campbell standing behind the door holding a bouquet of flowers.
“Miss Sharp.” He gave a deep bow, his eyes meeting mine above the yellow petals.
His hair was combed back neatly, a dark jacket hugging his frame.
His posture straightened and he flashed a smile at the same moment his gaze swept over my face, my hair, and my pink gown.
“You look far too lovely to be hiding yourself behind doors.”
My throat was dry. I stood in silence for too long, but any suitable words refused to rise to my lips. How had I spent weeks following this man from event to event, and now he was, of his own free will, standing at my door paying me compliments and flowers? It didn’t seem possible.
And I didn’t like it one bit.
“Mr. Campbell,” I choked. I swallowed hard. “How did you find me?” I felt silly the moment the question escaped me, but it was an honest one.
He laughed under his breath. There was something rather sultry about the sound. His eyes were far more flirtatious than I had ever seen them, and they traced over my features as if he were searching for something important. I felt entirely exposed by his study, and I could hardly meet his gaze.
“I found myself an informant on Milsom Street,” he said. Was he smiling? I checked his mouth. Yes, he was. When had Mr. Campbell learned to smile? My gaze flickered to the bouquet of flowers, then back to his face.
“May I have a word with you inside?” he asked with that soft upturn of his lips.
I shook myself of my confusion, gathering my wits about me.
If I was not mistaken, this was nothing short of a courtship call.
Surely Mr. Campbell was playing a trick on me.
I didn’t trust him at all, especially not with that smile on his face.
“I’m afraid you cannot,” I said without a hint of regret.
His eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t appear overly surprised by my impertinence anymore. “Why not? Don’t tell me you have misplaced your chaperone once again. I shall begin to assume you don’t have one at all.”
“I have not misplaced her, but her constitution doesn’t agree with daffodils.” I glanced at the flowers. “They cause her to sneeze and develop horrible rashes.”
Mr. Campbell held my gaze for several seconds, a challenge gleaming in his eyes. Did he believe me? “I am sorry to hear that.” He glanced ruefully at the bouquet.
“Yes, it is a shame.”
He sighed, his eyes lifting. “Forgive me, I should have chosen a different flower.” He retreated back a few paces, and my hands tightened around the doorknob. As soon as I could close the door on him, the better. But instead of turning to leave, he threw the bouquet of flowers toward the stairwell.
It tumbled down a few steps, leaving behind a trail of yellow petals.
My eyes widened.
Mr. Campbell brushed his hands together with a smile, as if to rid them of any remnants of the daffodils. “There. Your chaperone shall be unhindered if I step inside for a moment. And don’t worry—I will be sure to bring a different variety of flowers next time.”
I blinked. Next time? How often did he think he would be welcome to call upon me?
He was being awfully presumptuous, especially since I had rejected his offer to dance the night before.
I was still certain he was playing a game of some sort, though I didn’t know exactly what sort of mischief he was up to.
Playing along seemed like the only way to find out.
“Thank you for your thoughtful consideration.” I gave a polite smile, which seemed to confuse him. Good. He had been confusing me a great deal lately. “I am about to take a walk with my aunt and brother, but we may receive you another time when we are not otherwise engaged.”
“A walk sounds lovely,” he said with a thoughtful look. “May I join you?”
My voice sputtered in my throat. “Why?”
“Why not?” he countered with a subtle grin.