Chapter 19
Rowan
Ileaned against the chest of drawers in my room and stared at the simple but lovely watercolor of the girl reading beneath a tree.
I could easily replace the girl for myself.
I would be reading my favorite book from my youth, The Highwayman’s Escape, written by a passing traveler.
And father would have all the servants searching for me while I evaded my tutors.
Holding the painting close, I imagined the details a watercolor did not allow for.
Could it be a self-portrait of Arabella?
Here, she looked pretty, even whimsical.
It was not at all how I had thought of Arabella as a youth.
However, thinking of her gangly legs that constantly tripped over her long dresses and rail-thin arms that would attempt to push me away when I whispered irritating words in passing did not quite conjure up the same distasteful image.
In fact, her awkwardness and too many freckles now seemed slightly endearing.
The youthful Arabella wasn’t the beauty she was now, but neither was she as horrid as I had thought her to be.
That day in the library, where she had burned the book, had ruined my opinion of her likely more than it should have.
Someday, I would ask what book she had so cruelly destroyed.
Opening my top drawer, I tucked the painting back with the others beneath a stack of nightshirts. I would have a maid return them at the first opportunity. It was time to head down to dinner and see if Lady Farthington recalled the angelic boy from years ago.
Leaving behind my bedchamber, I made my way down the stairs just as a footman opened the door to allow Lady Farthington to enter.
My timing had been beyond perfect. I took quick stock of the woman before me.
Her hair was possibly whiter under her black lacey mobcap and her scowl lines had deepened since I last saw her, but I hoped there would still be a glimpse of mischievousness in her gaze.
As soon as the door was shut behind her, I stepped forward.
“Lady Farthington.” I bent into a deep bow. When I rose, I gave her my widest smile. “You haven’t aged a day since I saw you last.”
She met my smile with a glare. “I hate flattery above all else. Who are you? Have we been introduced?”
“Years ago. My name is Rowan Ashworth.”
She harrumphed and tapped her cane with a thud against the marbled tile floor. “So the prodigal betrothed returns.”
Why did this family keep using the word prodigal to describe me? Clearing my throat, I attempted to smooth over my absence. “I had to stay away until we were both of an appropriate age. I couldn’t very well court a girl of twelve, now, could I?” I stepped up beside her and offered her my arm.
She took my arm, but her pointed glare had not reduced at all in severity. “It’s been done before, although I found it quite abominable. Don’t you think you could have returned a year sooner?”
“Before I finished making a name for myself?” I tsk-tsked, pulling her slowly toward the drawing room. “A man must offer his best self if he hopes to marry someone as fine as Miss Delafield.”
Her features softened the barest amount. “I suppose. But could you not have visited for the holidays at the very least?”
I leaned closer and adopted a conspiratorial tone. “Miss Delafield required time to forget the youthful version of me. I do not think she cared for me as much as she ought to have.”
Lady Farthington’s eyes narrowed. “That girl is an ungrateful twit.”
I drew back, both confused and surprised that her aunt would be so condescending to her own niece. “Now, Lady Farthington. You mustn’t insult the woman I am to marry.”
“Then she had better marry you forthwith. No daughter has been more trying to a mother than that young lady.” She shook her head and made a disgusted sound.
A trying woman, I could believe. Arabella was certainly trying my own patience at the moment.
“When are the banns to be posted?” she asked. “It had better be forthwith.”
I pinched my lips together. “Well . . . that is an excellent question. I think forthwith is my ideal timing, but since we have been apart for so long, I am attempting to win her good opinion first. In the name of marital felicity, of course.”
Lady Farthington growled. “What will these young people think of next?”
“I know it must seem silly, but I do wish for Miss Delafield’s happiness. She has grown on me since my arrival, and I find she suits me more than I had thought possible. You don’t have any advice for me, do you?”
“Advice?” Lady Farthington gave a sharp laugh. “I have enough wisdom to fill a library.”
“I would expect no less, Lady Farthington.” Though she was unaware of Arabella and my childhood feud, I did care for her opinion.
My own grandparents had died when I was young, and I had a great respect for older individuals.
They had lived twice as long as I have, and their experiences had value.
I paused outside the drawing room, curious what she would say.
Lady Farthington tugged on my jacket, and I leaned closer to hear her whisper, “There’s only one piece you really need. Don’t make her angry.” The last sentence wasn’t whispered, and each word was punctuated.
I couldn’t help myself; I laughed. “You are brilliant, aren’t you?”
“Not many appreciate that fact.”
Arabella appeared in the open doorway, dressed in a fetching pink gown with ruffled sleeves trimmed with lace. I wasn’t into fashion as some men, but I admired how the pink brought out the color in her cheeks and the style flattered her figure.
“Lady Farthington! I did not know you had arrived. Mr. Ashworth’s boisterous laugh gave you away.” She frowned at me before turning a smile toward her aunt.
I opened my mouth to retort, but no words came out. Arabella’s smile had become increasingly lovely. How had I never noticed the slight dimple on one side?
Lady Farthington pointed the end of her cane at Arabella’s legs. “You did not include the names of your guests in your invitation. That is an oversight I cannot abide.”
Arabella’s demeanor dimmed. “Forgive me, aunt. We’re so glad you chose to come despite my many failings.
Dinner should be announced at any moment.
Please come in and sit down.” She stepped aside, and I directed Lady Farthington into the room.
I stole a look at Arabella as we passed, hoping she had not been truly wounded by her aunt.
My level of concern was growing increasingly alarming.
Something had shifted inside me, and I couldn’t quite find words to define it.
Yesterday’s near kiss had confused me as much as I had hoped it would confuse her.
As soon as Lady Farthington was seated in a sturdy chair on the end where it would be easier for her to stand from later, Mr. Delafield introduced her to Mr. Clodwick.
“He is my cousin,” Mr. Mason added from beside Clodwick, as if that somehow made the boring man much more exciting.
“What brings you to this part of Surrey?” Lady Farthington asked Clodwick.
I grinned, eager to see how this would unfold. I took a purposeful seat next to Arabella on the sofa—to her dismay.
Mr. Clodwick steepled his hands together as if he was some great philosopher. “For personal reasons, including an interest in the art and sculpture in the area.”
I blinked. Would he not admit that he had come with the express intent to marry Arabella?
Lady Farthington frowned. “Should you not have gone to London instead? They have the best museums.”
Mr. Clodwick did not flinch under her powerful scrutiny. “I have seen them. I am interested in private collections at the moment. Miss Delafield mentioned you are an appreciator of the arts as well.”
“I am.”
“I would be most grateful if you would allow me to see your collection.”
Her lips pursed together. “I shall consider it.”
So this is why Clodwick had insisted on meeting with Lady Farthington. Did he know about her connection to Mr. Hope? The family had spoken of it for years, so it was possible. Was he using Arabella to get to her aunt? If so, he was a complete dolt, and I wouldn’t let him get away with it.
A footman came in and whispered something to Mr. Delafield. “Ah,” he said. “Dinner is ready. Shall we adjourn to the dining room?”
I couldn’t resist prodding Arabella about Clodwick’s statement. As we stood, I bent over and whispered, “Will your other almost fiancé not claim his true purpose for coming here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean his undying affection for you.”
Her brows lifted. “And you would make such a claim?”
I thought of our near kiss again and gave her a devilish smile. “I already have.”
My words must not have charmed her, for she growled under her breath and stalked off to Clodwick’s side.
I didn’t understand. I was transparent with my intentions and Clodwick was .
. . well, Clodwick. Why did she keep pushing me away for that irritating man?
Why did it seem that I had the perfect words to describe a book, but when it came to speaking to Arabella, I said all the wrong things?
Arabella sat between Lady Farthington and Clodwick, while I was forced to the other side of the table.
While the first course of soup was set before us, I heard Lady Farthington speak to Arabella. “I hope you’ve been practicing your music instead of scribbling away in those books of yours.”
Arabella’s gaze shot up to meet mine, her cheeks darkening. “Yes, aunt.”