All in hearing distance went silent, ears pricked for gossip.
Looking the girl dead in the eye, the baroness, her phrase delivered softly, warned the topic was an unwelcome one. “I was fifteen when I married.”
“How shockingly young...” Lilly arranged her cards, pretending she was sweet, that she didn’t mean to suggest the noble in their midst had married for wealth. “But, of course, your parents must have been thrilled and only too willing to see you wed. Tell me of your gown.”
Arabella took in the profile of her subtle persecutor, and told the truth. “White muslin, the finest gown I had ever worn.” A gift that had been too large and smelled of another woman’s perfume. She’d tried not to trip over the dragging skirt on the walk down the aisle. All those years ago, for a moment, seeing the way Iliffe had looked at her, she’d even felt pretty. All that was ruined once the vows were spoken. Benjamin Iliffe had ordered the clergyman, her father, and his drunken witnesses from the small chapel. He had bent her over the altar, Arabella too confused to realize what he was doing before the man who had just taken her as his wife shoved his cock inside her unprepared body. When it was over, she had been paraded outside, blood staining that fine dress.
Benjamin’s friends, her father, had only laughed at the red smears and the shock on her face.
Compared to what followed, that first time her husband had been almost gentle.
“It is your turn, my lady.” Bored, Gregory cocked a brow at the baroness.
She’d frozen, found herself gripping her cards so hard they bent. Blinking she took a breath, let it out, and set down her winning hand. “Now, Miss Lilly, Mr. Harrow, I do believe you owe me three pennies each.”
After sliding the winnings over, Mr. Harrow excused himself, chuckling as he walked away.
Edmund took the vacant seat and conversation turned to safer topics of the weather and harvest. Where Miss Lilly was abrasive, her brother Edmund was sweet. He behaved as a gentleman, entertai
ning the table with mild gossip until even Arabella giggled at his stories of renegade cows.
The fair haired young man in his green cutaway and perfectly arranged white cravat was kind to her. It took him time, but the man coaxed Arabella to smile. “What a pleasure it is to have you amongst us, Lady Iliffe.”
She tried to make light of her somber silences. “I am not giving you back your pennies, Mr. Jenkins.”
Laughing at the jest, Edmund accepted defeat and offered to see her to her carriage. When Arabella took his arm the second time, she did not hesitate.
Many congregated near the door of the card room, the guests having multiplied, all trying furtively to catch a glimpse of the titled newcomer within. Mr. Jenkins, as if anticipating the mob, created a path, navigating them toward the door. He got her through it and a rush of cool air met her flushed cheeks.
Payne had already brought her carriage around.
He knew her so well.
“It must have been difficult,” Mr. Jenkins offered in a hushed voice, “to face such a thing alone.”
Though her heart raced and she was eager to be gone, Arabella made herself mirror Edmund’s courtesy. “I am not comfortable with crowds or strangers. It was kind of you to lead me out.”
A dimpled smile accompanied his bow. “Then my family and I are doubly grateful you graced us with your company, Lady Iliffe.”
Arabella allowed Mr. Jenkins to hand her into her carriage. The door closed and the contraption began to move, Payne urging the horses forward to take her home.
The solitude and dark were immensely comforting, as was the vast view of dark moors and endless nothingness once they passed from the township. Out there was freedom. Out there Arabella could fade away—just like the white woman Lizzy had described. It was not even difficult to imagine such a figure wandering, ghostly, pale fabric of a gown floating on the wind behind her.
How beautiful such autonomy would be.
The daydream was interrupted by the slowing of her carriage, Arabella aware they were miles yet from her house. “Payne?”
The coach door opened, Mr. Harrow standing arrogant and unsmiling in the dark. “My horse has thrown a shoe.”
If Payne found the situation harmless enough to stop, then there was nothing she could do. Arabella gestured toward the seat across from her. The unwanted passenger climbed in and the sudden start of the carriage left Arabella frowning at the sound of the fifth horse's hooves.
From the cadence, Arabella could hear Harrow had lied. “There is nothing wrong with your horse. What do you want?”
Harrow flashed a dangerous smile. “My three pennies back... you cheated at whist.”
She could not help but lift her chin. “So did you, just not with the same skill as I.”
His expression was lost in the dark, but just enough moonlight shined between them that Arabella could see Mr. Harrow’s attention was fixed on her. “What a stir you created tonight—all that finery... scandalous conversation.” Undeterred by her dismissive attitude, he leaned further back in his seat, settling comfortably and spreading his legs to take up all the space. “You made fine work of the Jenkins family.”