A Wealthy Widow. Anne Herries

saw her flinch and immediately cursed himself for his clumsiness. ‘Forgive me. I should not have said that, Arabella—but I am concerned for your reputation.’

      ‘You shall not be asked to rescue it,’ Arabella replied in a sharp tone—she was hurt that he should speak to her in that way. She had thought they were well on the way to becoming friends. She lifted her head proudly, becoming the lady of consequence she truly was as the mistress of a large manor. ‘But if you feel able to care for yourself now I shall not press my attentions on you, sir. My carriage has returned for me this morning and I shall continue my journey to London. I have already been delayed and I dare say my friends are anxious for me by now.’

      ‘I have offended you,’ Charles said, regretting that he had spoken harshly. ‘That was not my intention. I am truly grateful for all you have done. Indeed, I may owe my life to you.’

      ‘Think nothing of it,’ she replied, her manner becoming even more reserved, cool to the point of iciness. ‘I would do the same for any man—and you were a friend of Ben’s. I shall bid you good morning, sir. I trust you may complete your journey without further accident. I should take care if I were you. It was only good fortune that you were not killed. I do not know if you have an enemy, but that rope across the road was meant to bring you down.’

      ‘Me or any unwary traveller, I dare say,’ Charles said, frowning. ‘But I shall heed your warning, Lady Arabella. I should not have been so easily caught had I been less wrapped up in my own thoughts.’

      Arabella nodded, but made no further reply. He seemed to be a man of moods for he was never the same twice, swinging from a smiling, good-natured gentleman to a harsh, reserved stranger. She left him to his breakfast and went downstairs, seeking out the landlady to pay the reckoning for their rooms and to tell her that they were leaving. Her grooms had informed her that Charles had been robbed and he obviously could not pay for anything himself. Arabella gave the landlady a few coins extra to pay for his keep should he need to stay on a little longer.

      ‘I have an appointment in London,’ she said to excuse the odd circumstance of her leaving alone. ‘Charles will follow at his convenience. I have to thank you for taking us in. I hope we have not been too much of a nuisance.’

      ‘Oh, no, my lady,’ the woman said and bobbed a curtsy. ‘It was a pleasure to have you.’

      

      Within an hour Arabella was sitting in her carriage and ready to leave for her aunt’s house in town. Glancing from the window, she saw that Charles Hunter had come out from the inn as they were about to drive off. He stood for a moment in the sunshine and appeared to be looking for someone, but Arabella told her driver to move on. They could have nothing to say to one another. Should they meet in town, she would greet him as a stranger. She had already decided to put this interlude from her mind. She had helped a man who had been her husband’s friend and that was an end to it—and yet she had an odd feeling of having lost something as she was driven away.

      Charles saw the carriage leaving. Had he come down a few minutes earlier he might have spoken to her again, apologised for his coolness that morning. He was aware that he had much to thank her for and she did not deserve to be treated so harshly. Yet he could not allow himself to like her too much. His life must be dedicated to finding Sarah. The guilt and fear nagged at him, mingling with the anger. Sarah was all that mattered now. Besides, he knew that he was incapable of loving a woman—especially one as beautiful and warm as Lady Arabella. She deserved passion and spirit, not the broken shell of the man he had become.

      It was better that she had gone without time for another meeting between them. The memory of soft hands and sweet words soothing him would pass. He would not allow himself to remember how comforted she had made him feel—or the hurt look in her eyes when he had told her that he no longer needed her help.

      

      ‘Arabella dearest! I was beginning to worry about you,’ Lady Hester Tate said as her niece walked into the elegant parlour of her London house that afternoon. ‘Tilda has been fretting—she did not like to leave you alone with only your maid to protect you.’

      Arabella’s laughter was warm and delightful. ‘I do hope she did not upset you, Aunt Hester? I assure you I was perfectly safe.’

      ‘She seemed to think you were in some mortal danger, though she would not tell me exactly what,’ Lady Tate said and frowned. ‘I do not know how you put up with her, my dear. She is such a fusspot.’

      ‘Yes, she is rather,’ Arabella said, smothering a sigh. ‘But she has so little to live on, Aunt. I should feel awful if I told her I did not need her any longer—though I must admit that she tries my patience at times. Where is she at this moment?’

      ‘Oh, I sent her on an errand,’ Lady Tate said, pulling a little face. ‘She is useful in many ways, Arabella. I had some packages that needed to be delivered to a friend—and my library book had to be returned. I could have sent a servant with the packages, of course, but Tilda likes to feel helpful.’

      ‘Yes, she does,’ Arabella said. She bent to kiss her aunt’s cheek. Lady Tate was a small, slightly plump lady who had once been considered a great beauty but was now showing signs of fragility, her skin papery soft. ‘How are you? When you wrote to me last, you had had a chill, I think?’

      ‘Oh, I am much recovered,’ her aunt said, her eyes avoiding looking directly at Arabella. ‘I am well enough in myself—but Ralph worries me. He has been behaving oddly recently and I think he may be in debt again. He is such a terrible gambler. Takes after his father, of course, and never listens to anything I say.’ Lady Tate’s expression was a mixture of anxiety and annoyance. ‘Goodness knows what he does with his own money!’

      ‘I am sorry to hear that he has made you anxious,’ Arabella said. ‘He really should learn to stay away from the card tables. He cannot expect you to rescue him from his folly again.’

      ‘No, indeed, I have told him that I can give him no more than a hundred guineas,’ Lady Tate said. ‘He says it is not enough, but I cannot spare more, Arabella. I have my jointure and a few jewels my father bought me—but he has sold the Tate heirlooms himself.’

      ‘Oh, no, has he?’ Arabella felt a slight unease. ‘That was not well done of Ralph, Aunt. Do you know if he has run up claims on the Northampton estate?’

      ‘I would not care if he has,’ her aunt replied. ‘I hate Tatton Court. It is an awful old place and would cost a fortune to make it comfortable. So he may gamble that away if he pleases—but I have told him that Haverhill House is not his to hazard. It belonged to my family and remains mine until I die. I have made a will passing it to my grandchildren, Arabella. Failing them, it will come to you, my dear. Ralph does not know that, but I have instructed my lawyers that he is not to have the right to sell it. He would not like it if he knew, but he would lose everything we have if I did not take some precautions.’

      ‘Yes, I see.’ Arabella thought that her cousin would be furious if he knew what his mother had done, but kept her own counsel. Aunt Hester might complain of her son sometimes, but she thought the world of him and would not like to be told the harsh truth, which was that Sir Ralph Tate cared for nothing but himself. ‘Well, you must do as you think best, dearest. Now tell me, do we dine alone this evening?’

      ‘As it happens we have an engagement. I left your first two evenings free, Arabella, so that we might be comfortable together, but you did not come when I expected you, and we are engaged this evening to a great friend of mine—Lady Samson. She is to give a little musical affair, my dear. Nothing exciting, but you know how it is. Most of the ton have gone to the country or Brighton for the summer.’ She glanced at her niece. ‘I could go alone this evening if you are too tired?’

      ‘I am not in the least tired,’ Arabella said. ‘A musical evening will be very pleasant. I shall enjoy it, I am sure.’

      ‘Yes, well, I think you will. Lady Samson’s niece Melinda is in town for a visit and I seem to recall that you rather like her?’

      ‘Yes, I do. It will be