Blackwood's Lady. Gail Whitiker

running of his estates. He spent an afternoon with his secretary, dictating letters and issuing instructions, and generally whittling down the pile of correspondence which had accumulated during his brief absence. The pink, highly scented letters from his mistress he burned without reading. He had warned Yvette time without number not to address correspondence to his home, but she had not paid him the slightest heed.

      Probably because it was not intellect the darling Yvette was renowned for.

      Fortunately, his desire for the pretty ballet dancer had long since begun to wane—as had his interest in any kind of casual encounter—so it was not with a deep feeling of regret that David left her cosy little house that night, after bidding her a final adieu. In spite of the tears, he had no doubt that she would recover quickly from her grief. In fact, he fully expected that she would have a new gentleman in her bed by this time tomorrow night.

      From there, he headed to St James’s to enjoy a few quiet hours at his club. He was not at all surprised to find his uncle already reposed in a comfortable chair by the fire, a glass of port in one hand, a copy of The Gentleman’s Quarterly in the other.

      ‘Evening, Uncle Giles.’

      Sir Giles looked up, and his face brightened considerably. ‘David, my boy, thank God you’re back. Place has been as quiet as a tomb without you.’ The baronet folded his paper and signalled to the waiter for another glass. ‘So, tell me, how did Lady Nicola react to your proposal? Did she say yes right off?’

      David settled back into the comfortable leather armchair next to his uncle, and crossed one ankle over the other. ‘Not exactly. As it turned out, she had a few questions of her own.’

      ‘Did she indeed? Brave girl. I doubt many others would have had the courage to quiz you about anything other than how soon you would start showering them with the fabulous Blackwood diamonds.’

      David chuckled softly. ‘I admit, I was slightly taken aback when she asked me why I wanted to marry her.’

      ‘The devil! And what did you tell her?’

      ‘That I was looking for a sensible woman, and that in return she would want for nothing.’

      ‘Did she think that an appropriate reply?’

      ‘She must have. She agreed to marry me.’

      Sir Giles studied his nephew thoughtfully. ‘I wonder if she will not be quite as biddable as you think, David.’

      Briefly reminded of the flash of determination in Nicola’s eyes when she had asked about bringing along her river-salvaged pups, David couldn’t help but wonder himself. What would she have said, he wondered, had he refused to allow her to keep the mongrels?

      But then, recalling the look of pleasure on her face when he had sat down beside her, and the way her eyes had fluttered closed when he had kissed her cheek, he wondered whether the other was all that important. While he wasn’t looking for an argumentative wife, neither did he wish to spend his life with a whey-faced young miss who would bow to his every whim. A certain amount of spirit was admirable. A certain amount.

      ‘No, all things considered, I think Nicola and I shall suit,’ David said, surprised at how content the statement made him feel. ‘Time I gave up this bachelor existence anyway.’

      Sir Giles’s lips twitched. ‘All of it?’

      ‘All of it. I have given Yvette her congé in the form of a flashy ruby bracelet—’

      ‘Which no doubt helped to ease the pain of parting.’

      David laughed. ‘No doubt. And I sent a note round to Belle, advising her of my intentions to marry.’

      ‘Ah, yes, the fair Arabella.’ Sir Giles hesitated, wishing to phrase his question diplomatically. ‘Do you think she will be disturbed by the news?’

      ‘I see no reason why she should be. Belle was kind enough to act as my hostess when I required one, and I was grateful for her efforts, but I hardly think she will feel put out when she learns that she is to be displaced by the woman I rightfully intend to marry!’

      ‘So, Blackwood is finally planning to wed, eh?’ the rotund Lady Fayne commented as she accepted a cup of tea from her hostess. ‘About time too, if you ask me.’

      Lady Mortimer sniffed disparagingly. ‘Should have married years ago. Doesn’t do to keep so many young ladies holding out hopes. Know anything about the gel?’

      Arabella Braithwaite stirred a small spoonful of sugar into her tea and then sat back against the richly upholstered cushions of the gold damask settee, her lovely features arranged in a mask of amiability. ‘Not really, other than that she spends a good deal of time in the country.’

      ‘Lovely girl, though,’ Mrs Harper-Burton put in kindly. ‘I recall seeing her at Almack’s years ago. They made almost as much fuss over her come-out as they did yours, Belle.’

      ‘Still, the announcement must have come as something of a shock,’ the Duchess of Basilworth said loftily. She smiled at the beautifully gowned woman across from her with a modicum of pity. ‘I suppose you will have to resign yourself to playing a much smaller part in Lord Blackwood’s life from now on. He will hardly need you acting as his hostess when he has a wife of his own.’

      ‘Perhaps, but just because Lord Blackwood has a wife does not mean I shall no longer have occasion to see him, Your Grace,’ Arabella said sweetly. ‘We are cousins after all, and no doubt his wife will appreciate my being there to help smooth her transition back into London Society. I understand that she has been keeping a very low profile since putting off her blacks.’

      ‘Oh, Belle, how generous of you,’ Mrs Harper-Burton said. ‘I thought you might have been…well, resentful of another woman taking your place.’

      ‘Taking her place. Really, Clara!’ the Duchess of Basilworth snapped. ‘How can Arabella be resentful of someone taking a place which was never hers to begin with?’

      ‘Indeed,’ Arabella said lightly. ‘I merely came to Lord Blackwood’s aid at a dinner party, and, much to my surprise, he asked for my help at his next one. I really just…slipped into the role.’

      ‘Well, you are just going to have to slip right back out of it again,’ the Duchess said smugly. ‘I am sure the future Lady Blackwood will not be looking for assistance in domestic matters. I understand she is a sensible young woman. No doubt she will be able to hire a competent staff to attend to such matters.’

      Arabella’s smile never faltered. ‘Yes, I am sure she will. More tea, anyone?’

      The conversation moved off into other areas and the topic of Lord Blackwood’s upcoming nuptials was forgotten. But as soon as the ladies took their leave and Arabella was left alone the scowl which had appeared on her face upon receiving her cousin’s note abruptly reappeared, wiping out all traces of her earlier complacency.

      How could David spring the news on her like that! He had never even made mention of the fact that he was thinking of getting married, and here he was, engaged to some country chit, without so much as a private word to her beforehand. Did he care nothing for her feelings?

      Arabella stood up and began to pace the room with the fury of a caged tigress. It was simply too galling! True, there had never been anything of a romantic nature between them, but Arabella had always hoped that, given time, their relationship might develop into something…warmer. But that wasn’t likely to happen now. Because David was replacing her with a wife. His politely worded letter, thanking her for everything she had done, and assuring her that they would continue to see each other on a social basis, did nothing to lessen her humiliation. She had not just imagined the pity in the Duchess of Basilworth’s beady eyes this afternoon. It had been there, as plain as day. The old biddy had been laughing at her; enjoying her fall from grace, as it were.

      Well, David wasn’t married yet, Arabella reminded herself, and, until he was, she intended to make very sure that she did not slip quietly into the background. Her cousin was a