Regency Rogues Omnibus (125 page)

“There is a hot bath and a warm fire, Miss Arabella. Then breakfast will be served in the lower dining room,” Mary said as she took Arabella’s robe and helped her into the bath. Arabella felt happiness that Darth would do this for her, a lady’s maid, clothes, and now breakfast with him in the dining room.

“Mr. Chicery said to choose any outfit you like, Miss Arabella, but I can see they are surely for a smaller figure. We can make do though, we will just have to tighten the corset up a bit,” Mary said holding up two dresses from the armoire she had just opened. A corset? Arabella had never worn one. Even her Mother had said that Jamaica’s climate was too hot, but papa had teased her saying it was just her excuse to get out of the accursed thing. Nevertheless, Arabella thought that she would do as Darth wanted of course, especially since it involved gaining clothes.

“Whose room do you think this is, Mary? It is quite lovely?” Arabella asked as she began to wash her long red-tinted auburn hair.

“Mr. Chicery never said, Ma’am, but I do know that Lord Peregrine has a married sister.”

The room was as vibrant in color as were the clothes and Arabella realized the room must belong to one of the women that she’d seen portraits of in Darth’s bed chamber. She finished washing her hair hoping that whomever the room belonged to would not mind her use of it.

The clothing proved difficult, Arabella was anxious about wearing someone else’s clothes without directly asking them. Yet, Mary kept reassuring her that it was all right, even going so far as to say the earl himself had ordered it. Still, the clothing was all very vibrant and bold in coloring and nothing really suited her tawny looks. Mary finally settled on an energetic yellow colored gown and that was when the real trouble began. The gown was too small in the bosom and Arabella was horrified when her body was shoved painfully into a corset.

“They are horrid!” she exclaimed to Mary, who was behind her tugging without mercy on the strings.

“Now, Miss, it only takes getting used to. And, oh, what they do for your chest. The earl will be unable to take his eyes off you,” Mary said, truly believing that she was helping matters.

Arabella gave in, though she really had no choice if she wanted to be dressed, so finally she was fitted into the frilly yellow gown and Mary turned her to face a mirror.

“Sweet Mary, I cannot wear this!” Arabella exclaimed. It was indecently low cut to begin with, but with the added fullness of her breasts, it was embarrassing.

“It is what all the ladies wear now, Miss,” Mary assured again, as she worked fixing Arabella’s hair.

Arabella would not know, she had never owned a dress like this in her life. In Jamaica they wore much simpler clothing, more light and loose fitting, but with high collars all the same. Either way there was no hope for it, so she brought her shoulders back, holding herself with as much dignity as she could manage, and then she proceeded to go to the dining room, expecting to meet with Darth.

Chapter Nineteen

Darth arrived back from the magistrate to many surprises. The first of which was the arrival of his younger brother Christian Beaumont Peregrine, affectionately called Beau. Darth was told at the stables that his brother, along with a friend, had stopped for breakfast on their journey from Cambridge to the seaside resort of Bath. Darth smiled to himself as he handed Raven’s reins to the livery boy. He had missed his brother, gone away to school, and he would enjoy the brief visit. On his way to the manor, Darth resolved to say nothing of Arabella, safely ensconced in his bedchamber. She would be unable to leave its proximity without proper clothes, so Beau would be none the wiser.

When Darth entered the manor, he turned abruptly toward the unexpected sounds of laughter coming from the dining room to his right. It was not the laughter that set his jaw in a hard line and furrowed his brow harshly. He would have expected the sound, especially with his brother’s arrival. Beau was a lighthearted and joking young man. Nay, what set his teeth on edge, and stretched the muscles tight across his back was the sound of a woman’s sonorous laugh filtering through the deeper bass chuckles. And that could only signify one thing.

Even through the red haze of fury gnawing at him, Darth recognized that Arabella presented a provocative picture. The blazing yellow gown she wore fell to an indecent low curve of her high mounded breasts, clearly at odds with the conservative French twist her long auburn hair had been fashioned into. All of it leaving a wealthy view of her slender neck and bared shoulders.
Christ, the gown was as well as pasted over her ripe curves
, he thought, as his fists rolled into tight balls. And Arabella was not without gentlemanly admirers. A very handsome dark-haired man, whom Darth had never seen before, fairly drooled over her left shoulder. The man’s gaze from behind her shoulder, before he bent over her, was fixed directly down the front of her gown. Darth had to give his brother credit though, because Beau at least stood away from the tempting display, leaning on the wall near the window.

The dark-haired stranger actually brushed Arabella’s ear, when he bent down to speak to her, causing her to jump, then pull away. Had Darth been in a clearer frame of mind, he might have registered her reaction as significant, but he was beyond that into tempest fury. Fury that he would never consciously admit was jealousy of mammoth proportions.

His hand rubbed the scarring on the side of his face, in an unconsciously significant manner, as he stalked into the room. “Arabella! Why are you not in
my
bed, where I commanded you to be upon my return?” Darth shouted. “I believe that I will have to sell you back to that slaver. I will not tolerate this disobedience!” Darth heard Arabella cry out, unnerved, as she stood stumbling backward from his advance, while the dark-haired man moved in front of her as if to protect her.

Arabella was staggered, as the shame of Darth’s harsh words washed over her, and then she saw his charged advance. She cringed backward against the wall, sure that if the support had not been there, she would have slumped to the ground.

“Now just a minute!” Lamont exclaimed, putting out his hand as if to stop Darth.

“Would you dare to lay a hand on me or what is mine in my own home?” Darth thundered.

“Lamont!” Beau’s voice rang out. “Stand back or you will have to deal with me!”

Lamont hesitated for only a moment, and then stood aside, stiffly. Arabella took that moment to run, just as Beau was calling Darth’s name for attention. Tears blurred her vision so bad that it was hard to see her direction, but her terror drove her forward. She ran headlong into Beau, just as Darth bellowed, “Hold her!”

Which Beau did not, instead shoving her along. “Miss Ormonde, hurry now and I will try to hold him.” Arabella was never so grateful, as she ran out of the dining room, hearing Beau calling after her. “Find a locked door, Madame, quickly!”

“Damn you, Beaumont. Let me go!” Darth’s voice thundered behind Arabella.

Arabella was petrified and any reasonable mind that she had, fled beneath her panic. Escape was the only thing she could think of, and that headed her out the front door, instead of back up the staircase. She picked up the heavy skirts of her gown and her only thoughts were to escape. She heard Darth before she saw him. The sound of his boots sending terror to her voice, and she screamed. It was as if she were being hunted down, stalked for a ravaged killing, as she strove to find her breath from running, but the panic would not allow it. Her mind begged for air, and then suddenly she was seized from behind and dragged backward against the tempest fury that chased her.

Darth was brought up shortly, staggering to a halt, when he felt Arabella falling limp. Instinct alone allowed him to lift her up into his arms as he tried to retain his balance. He finally came to a stumbling halt with Arabella held unconscious and slack in his arms. Her long hair having torn loose with her flight was falling wildly about his thighs. Reason returned impetuously, driving the fury right out of him and with it his conscience returned.

“Christ, what have I done ... Arabella ...
Arabella
.” But there was no answer as Darth cradled her against his chest, shifting her so that her lax head rested against his shoulder. Quickly, he turned back to the manor, intercepted by Beau.

Beau could see the horror and regret in his brother’s eyes and he was grateful for his brother’s return to sanity. “She has only fainted, Darth, and it is no wonder.” Darth brushed passed Beau without a word and walked back into the manor, then taking the stairs two at a time.

Beau decided it was better to wait for his brother’s return downstairs. He knew Darth well enough to know that Darth would not appreciate anyone’s interference. Beau felt confident enough in Darth’s look of regret, that his brother’s sanity had return enough to keep the lady from harm. Turning back to his friend Lamont, Beau wondered whether it might not be a good idea to get the man away from there. This left him to ponder the ominous events with his mind still caught on the word, “slaver.” My God, had Darth actually purchased the woman?

Darth laid Arabella carefully on the bed.
God, she looked so small and fragile
. His hand moved gently over her brow, and then down her delicate cheek. She moved slightly with her eyelids fluttering and he felt relief flooding through him.

“Begging your pardon, your lordship.” It was Chicery, standing at the open door as Darth swung his head around to look.

“Not now, Chicery.”

“I am sorry, sir, but it cannot wait. It is my fault, sir. You cannot blame, Miss Arabella.”

Darth stood in bewilderment, and then he walked toward the open doorway. He had never seen Chicery quite so distressed. Of course someone would have had to help Arabella. The gown, he now realized was one of his sister’s and the door, Darth was sure he had locked the door.

“Sir, Miss Arabella truly did question the lady’s maid, Mary, as to whether it was right to take the clothes and Mary without knowing, because I had not told her, assured Miss Arabella that you had given the order. And then, your brother’s arrival was so unexpected, Lord Beaumont caught Miss Arabella at breakfast, which I had set out for her in the lower dining room.”

“You did not tell them to give me the use of these clothes, Darth?” Darth turned to see Arabella sitting upright on the bed. Her lips were trembling and her eyes were wide with fear.

“No, I did not.” Darth turned back to Chicery with his hand unconsciously rubbing his scar. “Go now, and tell this lady’s maid that I have supposedly hired, to come up here and bring the packages from my office.”

“Yes, your lordship,” Chicery replied with a worried glance at Arabella before he left the room.

When Darth turned back around, he saw Arabella cringe on the bed and he was never more regretful for anything in his life, than he was at that moment.

Arabella watched Darth stop his motion of returning to her side, and then he just stood there looking at her. Gone were the terrible anger and the rage that had contorted his features earlier, and she felt some of her fear ebbing away. Yet her eyes were locked onto his as if by chains, and she could read the emotions flickering in their turbulent depths. Pain, she saw the sharpness of it, before he turned and strode to the mantel, to look down into the fire, silently.

She had not realized that she had been so tightly caught in Darth’s gaze and steeped in the apprehension of what he might do, that she was shaking. As soon as he turned away, she felt the release, and her body went limp as she sank back against the head of the bed. Still she could not tear her gaze away from Darth, standing so powerful and lithe, yet in some type of dark isolation that seemed to shroud him even in the bright light of day. Moreover what caused a fluttering of pain to seep across her chest and constrict her throat was the way Darth rubbed his fingers over the scarring along his face. Over and over, as if he could somehow rub it away. She had never seen him use this heartbreaking gesture before and her fear dissolved into compassion.

“Miss Arabella? Oh my!” Mary stood in the doorway — her hands had been full of packages, which now lay strewn on the floor as her hands clamped over her mouth.

Oh, good heavens, it was only a scar
, Arabella exclaimed inside of her mind, but to Mary she said, “Come here, Mary, do not run away.” Then Arabella turned to Darth and said, “Quit scowling so fiercely at her, my lord. Any woman would take fright for their life with such a man’s fearsome scowl.”

Arabella did not wait for Darth’s answer or reaction as she stood and started toward Mary. “His lordship truly is only mad at me, Mary, for I have done something wrong, even still, he will not punish me too severely, for actually he is very kind.” Arabella stopped in front of Mary and she saw gratefully that Mary had composed herself, somewhat.

“Oh, Miss Arabella. I am so sorry.”

“Hush, hush, now. Lord Peregrine’s scar affects everyone that way at first. It simply takes a good first look, and then the newness wears off. Is that not right, my lord?”

Arabella’s heart skipped a beat, before she turned to look at Darth, hearing his deep voice steady and firm. “Tis the surest piece of wisdom I have heard in years, Arabella.”

Arabella continued to turn around, offering Darth a tentative look, as she saw his face relax with a slight grin pulling at his firm, if severed lips. It made all the difference in his countenance as far as she was concerned. “My Lord Peregrine, this is Mary, apparently the new lady’s maid,” Arabella said.