Piqued by Antoinette’s insistence that there really was something between Sebatian and Arabella, Fanny decided there was nothing more useful she could do right now than to make her way out into the crisp outdoors and, as suggested, do her own bit of intelligence gathering.
Picking up her skirts to avoid the damp grass, she made her way toward Sebastian, who was gazing into the middle distance. Fanny fancied that he looked like some lovelorn swain or poet, though she could not really ascertain at what, or whom, he was looking.
“I trust you are not bored with us already, Mr Wells?” she asked him. “And that the company is sufficiently diverting, for I see you are all alone. You will stay until the Christmas Ball?”
“Of course,” he said, turning with a smile. A very charming smile, Fanny noted that made him seem much younger than his twenty-eight years. “Other than the fact that I am honored to be in receipt of your invitation, my sister will be arriving tomorrow or the day after, and naturally I have promised her my company and support.”
“You have not promised your company to anyone else?” Fanny inquired. “Someone who would, I imagine, be very disappointed if you did not stay?”
She noticed that a degree of discomfort invaded his clear distraction. And that he leveled at her a look that suggested he suspected she understood his motivations. After a significant pause, he replied, “I can be relied upon. I just hope that someone else will be similarly inclined or prevailed upon to stay another three days. For they may not.”
A deeper frown penetrated his forehead, and Fanny followed the direction of his gaze. But all she could see was Venetia and Lady Indigo—not Arabella, who Fanny knew had caught his interest.
“If, as I suspect, there is someone here you are interested in, then I shall do all in my power to entice our visitors to remain for what is, after all, my sister’s greatest entertainment of the year at Quamby House.”
“You’d really do that?”
Fanny was surprised at his tone. While she detected a note of confusion, that was only to be expected, for naturally he’d be surprised at her perception in discovering the state of his heart, and of his motivations. But there was hope in his voice, also.
“If you so desire it, Mr Wells. Yes, I will make our current house party visitors complete captives.”
Though she said it with a degree of gentle mockery, it seemed to offer him some relief. “I would be grateful if you did, Lady Fenton.” He looked out at the flat, gray lake. “It would be a great disappointment if any of the current party were to leave before the Christmas Ball.”
“You were right, Antoinette. Sebastian is utterly smitten with Miss Reeves!” Fanny felt more gratified saying these words than she’d expected. She raised her arms as far as the cut of her elegant sprigged muslin would allow as she reclined on the chaise longue by the window while Fenton rested his hand on her ankle while reading a book.
Lord Quamby, who was playing whist with his Venetian personal dresser to whom he seemed to have taken an even greater shine the last day or so, raised his head to say with a degree of pride, “My wife is right on the mark when it comes to matters of the heart.” He caught Antoinette’s eye, adding fondly, “Aren’t you, my girl?” before returning his attention to Fenton and the room at large to say in more general terms, “Why, it was she who recognized Giuseppe’s talent and suitability for his new role. Not only have I never looked better, I’ve never felt better!” He patted the orange curls of his new wig with satisfaction while Giuseppe reached across to adjust his master’s neckcloth, his look of pride and acknowledgment compensating for his lack of English competence as he said, “Hees Earlship look bellissimo, non?”
“But what of Arabella?” asked Fenton, ignoring Giuseppe’s entreaty to add his endorsement to his brother-in-law’s handsome looks. “Does she return Sebastian’s feelings?”
Fanny and Antoinette sent Fenton a sharp look, and Fanny’s twinge of concern was relieved by Antoinette’s confident, “Indeed she does! Why Fanny, you may have wondered why I was all a-bother in the passage this morning. It was because I’d come upon poor Arabella weeping. When I asked her the reason, she said she’d just learned her father would be arriving in the next day or two to attend the ball, after all, and that he was hardly likely to approve of the man who has stolen her heart, now, any more than he did four months ago.”
“Then why not tell me so directly instead of sending me out to learn what you already knew?”
“Because, Fanny, you never quite believe me when I tell you who is in love with whom. I wanted you to elicit Sebastian’s feelings for Arabella for yourself. And now that you have confirmed that our very handsome Sebastian Wells’s feelings are in direct accord with our very flighty, but pretty Arabella Reeves’s youthful but no less intense feelings, I can rest assured that all will be well.”
Fenton, who’d appeared to be deeply engrossed in his book, looked up to ask, “Surely Sebastian is a fine match for Arabella? Why should Arabella’s father not approve when our esteemed Sebastian is in line for a viscountcy?”
“Because Arabella’s father is highly ambitious and wishes his daughter to marry Lord Yarrowby, who is in line for an earldom.”
“And whom she’s been going to marry for years, apparently,” said Quamby. “They grew up together.”
“But Arabella declared Lord Yarrowby as dull as dishwater when she changed her mind about marrying him four months ago.” Fanny felt the heat around her collar. She knew what it was to be forced to marry a gentleman of one’s parent’s choosing. Not too many years had passed since Fanny’s own ambitious mama had arranged a match for Fanny with Lord Slyther on account of his pocketbook and willingness to look past the fact she came with no dowry. She shuddered at the memory, even now. Lord Slyther had been so odious, she’d rather have thrown herself into the Thames wearing an iron chastity belt.
Instead, she’d released the chastity belt, taken the greatest chance of her life—and thrown herself into Fenton’s bed.
With glorious success.
“Well, it’s all settled then.” Sounding satisfied, Antoinette rose, brushing down her skirts while the rest of them looked up in surprise.
“What’s settled?” Fanny asked.
“Why, the outcome of the Christmas Ball.” Antoinette smiled. “I predict that as midnight chimes, we’ll all be clinking glasses in celebration of Miss Arabella Reeves’s and Mr Sebastian Wells’s impending marriage.”
Chapter 8
Venetia gripped the cold iron door handle of the castle folly as she persuaded herself she had no reason to hesitate.
Sebastian had made it abundantly clear he still felt for her as he had before. And that was all that mattered.
She supposed he had no idea of the extent to which his father had opposed his proposed match with Venetia.
But that was in the past. Sebastian had done the old man’s bidding. He’d married Dorothea and provided the son and heir so desperately desired.
Now Dorothea was dead, and Sebastian still loved Venetia—and wasn’t that all that mattered?