Arabella muttered, “You pushed him?”
The diabolical look in the man’s eye told another tale. “Ahhh, but I was in Liverpool, and the servants saw nothing.”
What he hinted to did not bother her as it should have. “Was he more terrible than you are now?”
As if amused by the question, Mr. Harrow cocked his head. The prior night he’d heard Payne mention murder as if it were nothing and understood the reason why. “Do you find Payne terrible for what he did to Baron Iliffe?”
“Mamioro killed Baron Iliffe...” Feeling as if she had been plunged into icy water, Arabella asked, “The men you killed, were they bad men?”
“Of course they were.”
Her brows drew together, Arabella’s voice pensive, “You’re lying. You don’t know what they were. You never asked, nor did you care.”
Pitch eyes rested on her face, Mr. Harrow languid. “Just as you never answered my question.”
Thinking back on all they’d suffered, love colored her reply, “Many things were terrible, but never once was Payne.”
Gregory sneered. “How noble.”
Chapter 12
“I really cannot believe you did what you did!” Lizzy gushed, holding tight to Arabella’s gloved hand amidst the Assembly room’s crush. “Really, Edmund was quite scandalized.”
Surrounded by the Harding elites’ monthly party, fettered by a netted coquelicot red gown, Arabella braved her second formal gathering with little enthusiasm. She was tired of the topic of the seer’s tent and the fair, and less than happy it was coming up in such a public place. “He will recover.”
Unaware of her friend’s discomfort, glancing side to side to make sure none could overhear, Lizzy giggled. “Pestering Edmund, you should do it more often. I cannot even begin to tell you how hard I laughed each time he almost went in after you.”
Arching a brow, Arabella looked to the man in question, catching his eye even though he stood in another circle. “Went in after me?”
Lizzy, lovely in lavender, her hair in chestnut ringlets, confessed, “Three times he had his hand on the curtain.”
Arabella continued to stare at the man in question. Edmund did not look away.
What had he heard? Nervous, offering a sign of friendship to see how it might be received, she smiled. The fair man softly smiled back.
“See,” Arabella said to his youngest sister. “We are still friends.”
Once the music ended, Edmund proved it by approaching.
She spoke first, knowing he may have had more than one reason to be cross with her. “I have been practicing.” It was the damn minuet she referred to and her promise to dance with him. She’d never returned to Stonewall Grove for lessons, so Magdala had taught her.
Edmund’s eyes, far too blue, sparkled. “I thought you might be angry. The fair... my disapproving.” He was trying to joke, making his point badly as he fidgeted. “I should not have criticized what ladies... do at fairs.”
Arabella softened. “You are a protective older brother. It is admirable.”
Edmund lowered his voice, whispering conspiratorially, “I thought we agreed. You are not my sister.”
Too shy to meet his eye, Arabella took in those gathered around them. “The fair seems to have drawn more to the gathering.”
“It is you they’ve come to see.”
Nervous, Arabella disagreed, directing her gaze at Lilly—the shining star—in a gown of snowy lace. “Not I, Mr. Jenkins.” The pretty young lady was surrounded by suitors, flirting cautiously with her mama nearby. “It seems her love charm worked.”
Edmund forced a laugh, stepping in Arabella’s line of sight.
Lizzy thought to tease the pair of them. “What will you do, your ladyship, if another gentleman asks to stand up with you once the minuet is finished?”
Arabella had no intention of dancing with strangers. “I have no acquaintance in the neighborhood outside of your brother. It’s best I leave it at the minuet and remain a wallflower for the remainder of the evening.”