“Then perhaps you should accept his proposal,” Tess said.
Arabella sent her friend a despairing glance. “Marriage would only make any disparity worse. My mother loved my father initially, and look where their marriage ended.”
“But from everything you have told me, your parents were a terrible mismatch. You and Lord Danvers are much better suited.”
“Why do you say so?”
Tess smiled. “I have seen you together, the way you are with him. The way you look at each other. A fire lights in your eyes when you look at him, did you know?”
It was Arabella’s turn to stare.
Tess went on. “As surprised as I am to admit this, I think he could be the ideal match for you. You would always keep him challenged and interested, and he would do the same for you.”
Arabella shook her head in denial. “I cannot be sure of that.”
“No, I suppose you cannot. But we can never be sure of anything in life, Arabella. And the chance for love is worth the risk of being hurt. Do you really want to give up hope for your future because of what happened in the past?”
Twisting her fingers in her lap, Arabella looked away. Marcus had accused her of letting fear rule her, and she knew it was true; she feared being hurt again. But she was already hurting dreadfully. How could the pain be any greater than what she felt right now?
When she remained silent, Tess asked quietly, “If you could be certain he loved you, would you marry him?”
“Yes,” she finally murmured.
Tess sighed. “Well, you will have to decide for yourself, but I don’t think you will be happy without him. And I don’t think he will wait forever for you to make up your mind.” Climbing to her feet, she gazed down at Arabella, her voice softening. “I believe you should take the risk and accept his proposal, Arabella. True love is too precious to waste. I would give anything to have that chance again.”
Turning away, Tess left Arabella struggling with her warring emotions.
True love is too precious to waste. If that was so, then she would be an utter fool to let her fear of being hurt again prevent her from seeking happiness with Marcus.
Wanting privacy to settle her agitated thoughts, Arabella departed early for home before the tea even began, leaving her sisters and Tess to supervise the event. When she reached the Hall and spied a carriage bearing the Danvers crest standing in the drive, her heart leapt. Marcus had returned!
She tried to keep her eagerness under control as she drove the gig around to the stables and turned it over to a groom, yet she found herself hurrying toward the house.
Simpkin met her in the corridor to take her spencer and bonnet and to announce a visitor. “Lady Loring has called, Miss Arabella.”
Arabella froze, not certain she had heard correctly. “My mother is here?”
“Yes. I have put her in the small salon.”
She felt the color drain from her face. When she swayed dizzily, Simpkin instantly became concerned. “Are you unwell, Miss Arabella?”
“No… I am just…surprised.” Although shocked, dismayed, bewildered were more descriptive of her feelings.
To think her mother had come to call after all this time. What in heaven’s name did she want? And where had she come from? Four years ago Victoria had reportedly fled with her lover to the coast of Brittany in France, near Brest, when Britain was still at war with France. Travel was perilous and any communication between the two countries was unpredictable at best. But they’d heard nothing more about her, not even after the long war
ended with Napoleon’s abdication the following year.
Her footsteps hesitant, Arabella walked slowly down the corridor to the salon and paused on the threshold to observe the familiar stranger seated on the settee.
She was unmistakably a lady, fair-haired and elegant. In looks, Victoria most resembled Roslyn, with the same golden delicacy and aristocratic bearing. And she was still quite beautiful. Even though she had borne three children and endured a scandalous widowhood, the years had been kind to her.
At the sight of her, a chaos of emotions flooded Arabella, along with a rush of painful memories. Then Victoria looked up, her expression hesitant, vulnerable…even fearful.
Reflexively, Arabella felt her hands clench with anger and bittersweet happiness. She had never forgiven her mother for abandoning her and her sisters and leaving them mired in scandal. And yet some part of her was overjoyed to see Victoria again.
Trying to remain calm, Arabella entered the room but kept her distance. When her mother simply watched her warily, she broke the taut silence. “What brings you here, Mama?”
“You, of course,” came the quiet answer. “I wanted to know how my daughters are faring.”