Romance: Detective Romance: A Vicious Affair (Victorian Regency Intrigue 19th England Romance) (Historical Mystery Detective Romance) (40 page)

Bessie and the footman rounded the hill, and Lucian and Arabella continued walking.

“Tell me something, Arabella.”

“What?”

Lucian waved his over the ocean. “Anything. Tell me a story from your childhood.”

“Is there not
anything in particular
you would like to hear?”

“If it comes from your lips, I shall listen to anything.”

Arabella thought back to her
childhood,
when the world appeared fresh and new and conquerable: when everything seemed placed before her. “Once, my older brother and I swam far out into the sea, very far out. We snuck out of the house and swam so far out that I became monstrously tired, and he had to swim back with me in his arms.
Mother
screamed like you wouldn’t believe by looking at her now.”

“You see,” Lucian said. “I feel closer to you already.”

“Do you desire to be close to me?”

Arabella knew it was a forward question. She knew it was not a question a lady ought to ask. But she felt close to
Lucian,
like she’d known him for a long time. Perhaps it was because she was aware that he’d thought of her, without her knowing, for these past two years. Or perhaps it was because he didn’t see her as poor Lady Arabella, daughter of Lord Hood who had robbed her of her dowry. Not once had he asked her about it, and for that she was thankful. She began to see herself as a person again, and not the victim of a financial disaster.

He glanced back at the servants, and then again at her. “If they were not here,” he said, “I would kiss you.”

“Lucian!” Arabella exclaimed.

He smiled. “Are you horribly offended?”

“I ought to be.”

“Yes, but are you?”

Arabella gave it some serious thought. Everything had taught her that this sort of remark was to be met with unwavering insult. He had presumed upon their courtship; he had taken lovemaking too far. And yet she
wasn’t
offended in the least. In fact, the thought of him kissing her excited her. She imagined his lips on hers, imagined what it would feel like to kiss the man who had thought of her for so long. But
of course,
they could not. Arabella found she was glad they were being watched.
At least,
she couldn’t do anything she might regret later.

“I will say I ought to be,” she said, “and leave it at that.”

Lucian smiled and bowed his head. “Very well.”

They walked for another half-hour, exchanging pleasantries, and then returned to the carriage, which carried Arabella and Bessie homeward. “Oh, my lady, was it amazing?”

“It was,” Arabella said, keeping her voice low. “I think he is the most interesting man I have ever met. And handsome. Yes, he is very handsome.”

“My lady!”

“I know, Bessie, I know. But he
is
.”

She gave Father and Mother a full report of the events, leaving out the inappropriate speech, and then retired to her bedroom. Closing her eyes, she was whisked into a dreamland in which she and Lucian were free to do as they pleased. They fell upon each other like animals; their courtroom accruements were torn apart. They were just man and woman.

She woke covered in sweat, a strange sensation in her body, panting desperately. Her body tingled, and when she lay down once more, she imagined that Lucian was lying beside her.

*****

September turned to October, and October turned to November. They were on the cusp of December when Arabella and Lucian were alone in the
drawing-room
. After countless visits, Mother and Father no longer thought it was necessary to sit in with them. Lucian had proved himself to be trustworthy. Though he and Arabella often talked of kissing – of how much they would enjoy it – they had not crossed that line yet. The furthest they had gone is to hold hands – whilst gloved – for a precious few minutes.

Now she and Lucian sat very
close
together, the fire burning, the candles flickering all around them. Their shadows
trembled
upon the walls. It was bright and cozy and warm: warmer knowing it was cold without. Lucian leaned forward, and Arabella leaned forward without him.

“We will marry soon,” he said.

Arabella gasped. She had been expecting this, but it still seemed sudden. “Yes,” he went on. “I will ask your father on the morrow. But I must share something about myself before I make that move. Something that may make you nervous about marrying me.I should’ve shared it long ago.”

“Oh, Lucian, you’re scaring me.”

Lucian stared down at his knuckles, took a deep breath, and then revealed his secret.

“During the war, I saw more horrible things than I care to remember. I won’t trouble you with them. Let me just say that my idea of man was shaken to its core. I was torn asunder. I had been a good little boy, with high ideals about courtroom decorum which I now despise. I had thought a good household the start and end of all things. And I went to war with that in mind. It will be good, I thought, to have more stories to tell over a good cup of wine.

“But when I got there, I did not see stories. I saw life. Boy – and I mean boys – were being murdered all around me. The country was burning. People were starving. Life was being tossed about, lifted upside down. Soon after I got my scar, I was in a deep pit. I felt as though life was
over .
I was lost. I didn’t know what to do. No, no, please let me finished.” He touched his scar absentmindedly.

“A deep pit,” he went on. “I came to a town one day that had not been completely destroyed. There was a—a house of ill-repute there that some of the soldiers frequented. I had never – and since then I have never – but I—”

“You entered it?” Arabella said, horrified. “You entered it and you—” She couldn’t say the words. “With a lady of the night, you—?”

Lucian nodded. “Yes,” he said, his voice low. “I was weak, and I thought I would be dead soon, and—It was only that once, I swear it. Only once. After that, I was so disgusted with myself that I tried very hard to die. But providence would not have it. And soon I was back in England, filled with memories of blood, marked by the
blade
, and desperately wanting to find that pure, good lady who sang so stoically on the streets of London.”

Arabella rose from her chair and went to the window. She felt like she could collapse. She had imagined Lucian much in the same position as her when it came to carnal relations. Oh, she knew that men – some men – went to places like that where a
woman
would—do things. But she never imagined Lucian to be one of those men. She thought that he was like her.

“I don’t know what to say,” she breathed. “This is quite a surprise.”

“Does it ruin things?” He was on his feet now, standing close to her. “That is why I have not kissed you, Arabella. Don’t you see? I did not want to kiss you if you didn’t know the truth. I held your hand. That was bad enough.”

“And you haven’t done it since?” Arabella’s head was spinning; the room was spinning. Her hands trembled.

“Never,” he said. “And I never will.”

“I need to be alone,” Arabella blurted. “Yes, Lucian, I need to be alone. Would you please leave me? For—for a week! Leave me for a week!”

“You would torture me for a week?” he said quietly. “Make it three days. I can stay away for three days, I think, but no longer.”

“Fine, fine,” Arabella said, hardly hearing her own words. She turned away from Lucian. “Three days, then. But leave now. It is too much.”

She faced away from him as he exited. He closed the door quietly behind him. In a few minutes, Mother entered. Arabella had slumped down in an armchair. She stared into the fire, trying to lose her thoughts in the flickering of the flames. “Arabella, is something wrong?”
Mother
said, sitting next to her.

Arabella knew her mother’s feelings when it came to matters like this. No amount of Dukedom or wealth would ever clean Lucian in her mind if Arabella told the truth. She must have still been considering him;
otherwise
she would have told Mother everything.

“I have a headache,” she lied. “I think it is this fire. It is making my head heavy. Perhaps I will retire for a time. Would you wake me when supper is ready?”

She had to resist the urge to run up the stairs. She threw herself upon the bed and curled into a ball. Lucian, with another woman, like
that
. Doing
that
in a dirty building in the middle of nowhere with a faceless woman. She knew men did that, especially at war. But it still made her feel sick. And he had waited until
now,
until she was falling deeper and deeper in love every day! She buried her face in her
pillow,
and prayed for sleep.

She couldn’t sleep. Instead, she sat beside the window and looked out upon the dying garden. Something fluttered against the window.

It had started to snow.

*****

For the first two days, Arabella tried to block everything out. Mother and Father knew that something was wrong. She could tell,
by the way
they kept talking to her like she was an invalid. Mother had implied on more than one occasion that something improper had happened between Arabella and Lucian, and that was the reason or her sadness. Arabella wouldn’t comment. She couldn’t, not without revealing the truth. And she had no desire of letting Mother or Father know the truth. This was between her and Lucian. He didn’t come. She’d thought he might, but he didn’t. She was glad. She needed to think. But thinking was so painful.

On the third day, she gave it some serious thought. Lucian had been with a woman of ill report. That was the truth. There was no shying away from it. She knew that some ladies would take this much better than she was: that some ladies would simply shrug it away. But there was something so
seedy
about it that kept niggling at her. She kept imagining Lucian, sneaking into a muddy house, the floor all torn up from boots, and then falling into some woman’s arms. But she needed to think beyond that. She needed to think about his state of being at that time. He’d been at war for years, his face was scarred, and he’d needed companionship. She could console herself with these facts, but it didn’t get rid of the seedy feeling deep in her belly.

It was late afternoon when the calling card came. Lucian – His Grace to Mother and Father – wished to know if he could call on Arabella in an hour. Mother and Arabella were sitting in the drawing room. Mother turned to Arabella with raised eyebrows. “Well, dear?” she said. “What do you suggest I say?”

Here it was, perhaps the most defining moment in her life, to take place in a simple exchange with Mother, in the drawing room. Two paths lay ahead of her. Upon one path lay spinsterhood, a life of loneliness, or perhaps marriage to a man she would forever compare with Lucian. Upon the other path lay reconciliation, a coming to terms with the reality of what had happened, transcendence.

“Reply that he may come,” Arabella said, her voice shaking. “Yes, Mother, say that he may come.”

“Very well,” Mother said.

“And Mother.”

“Yes, dear?”

“I know it is impolite of me to ask it, but His Grace and I will need the drawing room to ourselves.” Mother’s face creased. “I know,” Arabella went on, quickly. “But I promise you, as a daughter, that no insult is being done to me. I need to discuss something with His Grace, as future man and wife.”

“Arabella!”

“Please, Mother!” Arabella cried. “Just do this for me.
Please
.”

“I will pretend I have to chastise
Bessie,
and leave you for ten minutes—no more.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Arabella said. “Thank you.”

Mother did not look happy, but Arabella hardly noticed. Her thoughts were consumed with Lucian, and the coming confrontation. The hour passed too fast, as though Time itself was against her, and before she had mentally prepared, the doorbell rang.

Mother made her excuse, and she and Lucian were alone in the
drawing-room
. His skin was taut, and there were bags under his eyes. He looked physically ill. “Arabella,” he whispered, glancing at the door. “I feel as though part of me were dying. I cannot eat. I cannot sleep. Please, tell me you have some good news. Please.”

It was horrid to see him like this. Lucian was strong, scarred, immovable. Lucian was like a rock. And now here he was almost destroyed before him. She knew this was a test of real love. If she were only infatuated with him – like so many ladies were in the early days with their husbands – she would despite him now. He was not living up to her ideal of him. But she did not despise him. A violent reaction gripped her chest. She had to fight hard not to leap across the room and cradle him in her arms.

“Lucian,” Arabella said. “I love you.” She held up a hand, to stop whatever he was about to say. “But you
need
to be honest with me now. Is there anything else – like this – that you are withholding from me? Any tryst with a lady? Any secret affairs?Anything?I must know
now,
before I fully commit myself. Father would urge me to marry anyway. You are, after all, a Duke. Mother would do the same. But I have to see you as a man, not a Duke. I feel I can talk to you as a woman, not a lady. I feel we have risen above that muck. It would sadden me greatly to never see you again, so, please, tell me. Any other women?Any other secrets of this sort?”