Chapter 20
Arabella
Elmhurst’s library had a significant secret I had never told anyone about.
Just behind the sofa was a space of two feet between it and the wall.
With the way the room was designed, I could hide there, practically in plain sight, and never be discovered.
It was a little dusty, as the servants often forgot to clean the small section of the room, but it was easily remedied with the occasional few swipes of a handkerchief against the dark wood paneling along the wall.
I could haul the throw pillows from the sofa and sit there in peace for hours reading, or scribbling away on a story, as Lady Farthington had called it.
Sometimes I had even been known to fall asleep there.
This time, I hovered behind the sofa without any notion of rest or peace.
I should have fled to my room, but somehow I ended up here.
My mind was caught up in the storm of events that had led to this night, and I was not thinking clearly.
I had a plan, and the plan had failed. Without my aunt’s permission to see her collection or her request to Mr. Hope for us to see his, there was no inducement for Mr. Clodwick to marry me.
My chest heaved as I attempted to catch my breath, but with emotion clogging my throat and tears streaming down my face, it was not easy.
I was Penelope Waters from my story, locked in a tower with no perceivable way out.
The library door swung open, and I froze. Of all the times to be discovered, it couldn’t be this time. I didn’t want to talk to Father or anyone else right now.
“Arabella?” The whisper sent a wave of fear through me. I didn’t want Rowan of all people to see me like this. I clasped my hands together and prayed for him to leave.
The door shut and I relaxed my head against the back of the sofa in utter relief. My mouth opened and I took a deep gulp of air. A loud hiccup surfaced, rattling my ribcage.
“Arabella?”
Fear seized me, and my hand slapped against my mouth. Another hiccup shook me. It was noticeably quieter, but my anger flared, and my eyes filled with new tears. How could my body betray me at a time like this? At least Penelope was allowed to suffer in her tower alone.
I felt more than heard Rowan close in on me.
“There you are.” I did not look up to see him peering down at me; I hated the warmth I would feel penetrating from his gaze.
A moment later, he circled the sofa and slipped onto the floor beside me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pull his long legs up to his chest and wrap his arms around his knees.
“This is a cozy spot. Do you think if anyone catches us that they’ll force us to marry? ”
I growled. “That isn’t funny.”
“No,” he sighed. “I suppose it isn’t, but at least you’re responding to me.”
His tone was too nice, too sweet for my mood. I turned my head away from him. It might be childish, but conversation with him was the furthest from what I wanted.
“I’m sorry that dinner went poorly.”
“No, you aren’t. Don’t you get it? You win. No one likes Clodwick, and they adore you.” Another hiccup rattled my body. “You’ll get your wish, and we’ll be married. We’ll live miserably-ever-after.” Hiccup.
Rowan didn’t speak for a long moment. He was no doubt preparing his gloating victory speech.
“That’s not what I want,” he said, his words impossibly soft like velvet on my skin.
The humility in his voice sent my head whirling to face him. It was too late to hide my blotchy face, streaked with tears from him. His eyes penetrated mine, his gaze almost . . . tender.
My body was still now . . . my hiccups were gone. Indeed, I could hardly breathe.
“Arabella.” His hand reached toward my face, but I pulled back.
“I’m not yours to touch. Not yet anyway.” I might as well have struck him, for pain seemed to lance across his face.
“I’m sorry I’ve hurt you,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
Like an old habit, I fought hard against the sincerity in his voice, refusing to believe him. “Is that why you had the paintings returned? Why did you throw salt over your shoulder? Because you were sorry?”
He dipped his head. “I admit, I wanted to draw attention to Clodwick’s absurdities to make myself look more appealing. It was juvenile and wrong.” He met my gaze. “I’ve been a fool where you’ve been concerned. Truly, Arabella. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t want to forgive him, not after the years of hurt I harbored, but I felt my own anger finally slipping. “Is it so wrong to want to choose for myself who I marry? Shouldn’t I have the right to select the man who will dictate the rest of my life?”
His brow puckered. “It’s not wrong to desire that. And no man should have the right to dictate the rest of your life. You should be free to choose.”
I frowned, wiping moisture from my cheek. What was he saying?
“I release you, Arabella. From whatever contract we had, unspoken or otherwise, I will not marry you.” His brown eyes, vulnerable and imploring, darkened and his mouth tightened.
“Why?” I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”
His head turned to face the wall in front of us, and I could no longer attempt to decipher his feelings painted so clearly in his eyes.
“Like you said, it’s only right for you to choose.”
“It is?” I shook my head. “I mean, of course it is.”
He dropped his chin. “I am sorry that my presence here has caused you pain.”
I swallowed, my throat now completely clear of the emotion that had been choking me only moments ago. Was this really happening? Was Rowan really giving up his suit? It was a miracle. I was truly indebted to him.
“Thank you, Rowan. You have given me the greatest gift I could ask for.”
He stole a glance at me. “Yes, well, living miserably-ever-after doesn’t sound particularly enticing.”
I chuckled, surprised by his answer. “No, it doesn’t.”
His shoulders relaxed, and he sighed. “It won’t be easy to tell your father.”
“I don’t envy that task.”
“He’s been a good friend to me over the years—like a second father. But his love for you is primary, and I know he will understand, eventually.”
I hadn’t realized that severing our relationship would mean doing the same for him and Papa. That did not sit well with me, but I was too grateful for my freedom to say otherwise. “If there is anything I can do to help smooth the way between you and my father, please let me know.”
He shook his head. “You had better concentrate on smoothing the way for you and Clodwick. I don’t mean to criticize your preference for a husband, but he does have some social tendencies that your father will be wary of.”
I groaned. “Don’t I know it.”
“He truly believes that ghosts are haunting him.”
“I admit he is peculiar, but he has his sweet moments too.” His letter of apology with his compliment on my beauty came to mind.
“Oh? Does he make your heart race when you are near him?” He turned his head to gauge my response, his lips curling into his flirtatious smile.
I wish I could say I had that reaction with Clodwick, but my heart only ever betrayed me for one person. Even in the low light, my pulse quickened seeing Rowan’s handsome features. “I don’t trust my heart,” I confessed.
“Why not?”
I shrugged. I refused to tell him that my heart kept telling me to choose him of all people.
I couldn’t change my convictions because a man’s smile made my knees weak.
He was no longer the villain in my story, but the history between us still stood like an uncrossable barrier. “Can we speak of something else?”
“Certainly. We can speak of anything you want. What do you fancy talking about?”
I didn’t fancy anything beyond distracting him from talking about these unexplainable feelings between us. “Tell me something about you.”
“You want to know about me?” The shock in his voice made me feel repentant about the way I had been treating him.
“I could use the distraction . . . unless of course, you are ready to return to the others.” There was nothing proper or auspicious about sitting together in the cramped space behind the sofa.
Rowan smiled. “I am quite content to stay here until my legs fall asleep if it pleases you. What do you want to know?”
I wanted to know how he could act like a nice man now after being such a mean child.
I wanted to know what had changed, how he could bring himself to smile and talk with me like this, but I dared not ask any of those questions.
I searched for another topic. “I have heard a few stories from Papa’s correspondence, but surely there was more happening in your life in the last twelve years than you could fit in a dozen letters. ”
Rowan rubbed his jaw. “Let’s see, I suppose I could tell you about my grand tour.”
My interest piqued. I had not traveled much, and I had always wondered if seeing new places would strengthen my writing. “What countries did you see?”
“We traveled through Austria-Hungry, Spain, and Italy. We were never long in one place, but it was enough to experience their unique cultures.”
“Father had a letter from you before you’d left. I remember it said something about traveling with friends. I admit, I did not pay close attention.”
“No? You did not anticipate every word from every letter? You disappoint me.” He shook his head playfully.
“Yes, I traveled with six of my closest friends from school. I do not believe there are better men in all the world. They are not perfect, mind you, but they are loyal, and that is a quality that I deeply admire.”
Loyal. My chest stung. I had not been loyal to him. How he must despise me. I smoothed the skirts in my lap. “What place was your favorite?”
“Honestly?”
I nodded.
“Seeing the shores of England when we returned home.”
“Really? Were you homesick?”
“Something like that.” He reached over and touched the lace on the hem of my dress that had pooled near his hand. “Our ship was caught in a great storm as we crossed the channel. Our mast fell and the hull took on water. I thought it was the end.”