“I did.” He smiled, prideful. “But even you cannot say I stole from him. Nor did I encourage his less savory habit.”
“You manipulated him, offered drink.”
“True. Though I never once suggested he gamble.” Harrow leaned closer and tutted. “And still that does not make me a thief... I only gave what he asked for and took what I won. Your stuttering delinquent is a different matter.”
Gritting her teeth in an effort to keep from grumbling, Arabella admitted, “Nimble fingers are good for tending horses. As for thievery... the boy was starving. I would have stolen under the same circumstances.”
Harrow purred, “No doubt you would, Imp.”
She should not have come. She should not have believed such a man could be made contrite. All this visit had accomplished was the creation of a major hindrance in her plans. “Your servant...”
“...will tell the county she served tea to a baroness.” Harrow grinned. “I'm certain the tale will be colorful.”
/> Drumming her fingers against the stuffed armrest, Arabella sagged. This was what Griggs had wanted, for her to reveal her title to the county, but not in such a stupid manner. She'd just offered herself up to terrible gossip with one slip of the tongue.
Harrow saw the woman worry, a line deepening between her brows, so he offered a warning. “When your neighbors come to call, try not to dress like a hellion or behave like a banshee.”
“Enough.” Arabella stood, grabbed for her cloak, and gave him her back as she fastened the thing. “Should you stupidly think to darken my door again, understand you will be turned away unless you apologize to the boy.”
A rumble sounded near her ear. “I will do no such thing.”
Jumping at the feel of breath on her cheek, Arabella found him so close their bodies brushed with her turn. Swallowing, she stepped back. “Then I... must admit it will be a very distant acquaintance. Good evening, Mr. Harrow. Thank you for the tea.”
Harrow's smirk slid soft as velvet across a cruel mouth, the large man countering her sad retreat. “Have I startled you, Imp?”
Misjudging direction, the edge of a table dug into the back of her thighs, making her look both foolish and desperate when she almost overturned the thing. Freezing at the feel of fingers on her chin, the feather soft touch infinitely unnerving, Arabella stood meek as Harrow drew her face up for inspection.
With the baroness so alarmed, everything was left open for a man like him to read. Gregory Harrow savored each flicker of expression, offering a beastly grin as he ever so slowly leaned closer. “If you behave as a savage, you will be treated as one. Take the warning to heart.”
She couldn't speak, the horrible hanging moment stealing her voice. He gave her a reprieve, Harrow pulling back. But, had he been a wolf, he would have been licking his chops.
The villain took her hand, raising her wrist to his lips whilst offering the final taunt. “Thank you for calling, your ladyship.”
She did not know what possessed her, it all happened so fast, but her hand flew. She struck him with such strength the table rocked behind her and some small object crashed to the floor. More shocked than he, struggling to calm her breath, Arabella found a devil glaring down as if ready to rip out her throat.
Panicked, shoving past before he might see her lip quiver or the brute might mock her for her tears, she fled.
He did not follow.
Chapter 4
S quinting from the rare show of sun, Arabella grappled with another monstrous vine eating up the hedgerow. Cursing the foulest language she knew, ignoring thorns that pricked and stung, she set her weight against it and heaved. The long tangle gave way. She tripped, falling flat on her rump, out of breath but victorious. Tempted to lie back upon the dirt and nurse her sore rear, Arabella rallied instead, tossing the offensive weed over her shoulder only to catch sight of a black greatcoat flapping amidst the shade of her house.
Not ten paces away, Mr. Harrow leaned against the stone, arms folded over his chest. He did not smile, not one hint of greeting was offered... he just watched, motionless.
How long had he been there?
It was hard to tell what mood held him quiet and scowling, his black hair hanging over shadowed eyes. Her expression was far more available—vexation. It had been only three days since her visit to his home. Three days since she'd ruined her chances at peace in the county by shouting out her title in front of a servant.
Catching her hair when the wind made it wild, Arabella pushed it over her shoulder and pointed her gaze toward the stables where Hugh worked, wordlessly reminding Mr. Harrow he was not welcome until he apologized to the boy.
When she looked back to see if he’d understood, the shadowy quality of a passing cloud and the mean curl of Harrow’s lip made the man look almost... amused.
“Boy!” he bellowed, narrowing his eyes at the pale lad too busy mucking out a stall to have noticed him.
Scrambling over, the youth wiped his hands on his apron, trying not to look alarmed.
Dismally bored, the landlord dared him to disagree. “Your mistress would believe that I owe you an apology for my behavior the last time I visited my property.” A black gaze matched Harrow's sneer. “Claimed I was cruel in pointing out the lady had a known thief in her service. Do you agree?”