Gregory was not about to let her get away with simply stealing it. With the dexterity of a card shark, he managed to slip the silver ring onto her betrothal finger.
Aware she must speak, afraid to say his name aloud, Arabella asked, “Have I caught a giant, scowling footman?”
Bursts of laughter came from all around. Three claps were made to confirm her wrong guess, but before any could spin her about to try again, the man reached up and unknotted the scarf.
The silk fell and Arabella stared.
Mr. Harrow admonished, “Do not look at me so, Lady Iliffe. It was not my intention to frighten you.” Though his eyes burned, warning his intention was far from innocent.
Arabella sucked in a breath, realized she'd been left bloodless.
With the party's little trick over and the guests laughing merrily at their sport, the hostess rushed forward to properly greet the late arriving guest. “Mr. Harrow, we were beginning to give you up for lost.”
“The journey from London took longer than anticipated.” As usual, his words to the old woman were saccharine friendly and ill-meant.
With Gregory distracted by Mrs. Jenkins, Arabella took the opportunity to put distance between them, entirely unhappy he was there—hating that he'd shown up wearing her ring. Hating herself more for feeling something each time she looked at him.
Lilly's disappointed looks and sullen attitude earlier in the day made sense. Everyone had been expecting him—everyone but her. After weeks of silence and no letters.
Telling his tale in clipped phrasing, Mr. Harrow detailed the journey, taking a seat and accepting a draught of ale from a footman.
Lilly came to sit beside the man she admired, fawning. “We are so honored you rushed from town to attend our little soirée.”
The power of Gregory's eyes turned toward the angelic faced woman, his answer dry. “Indeed.”
Lilly giggled, and once again, Arabella wondered how on earth the girl could be so blind to his rude condescension. Or was she the blind one?
“It is such a pity that you missed the hunt.” With obvious adoration, Lilly enticed, “But the men will go shooting in the morning. Hopefully that will be acceptable.”
“I am afraid that I must away again in the morning.”
“You came all this way just to spend one night in our company?” The young woman was astonished, touched.
The man purred, the sound as cool as falling rain. “I simply could not resist.”
Arabella chose to ignore the conversation at her back and instead turned to the window for a moment’s peace. The sun was gone, night upon them, making it all the easier to see Gregory’s approach reflected in the window pane the moment he was able to break free of the group.
“You are the picture of health again, my love.” Standing as they were, no one could see him brush her fingers where the silver band lay poor and dull as he whispered. “But your hands are cold. A proper lady wears gloves in the company of gentlemen.”
“I should also be wearing a widow's cap.”
Her answer earned a wicked smirk, Gregory standing as imperious and immovable as ever. “But not for long.”
Daring to glance his way, Arabella felt her cheeks coloring. “Why?”
Deep pools of tar sat above an instantly unsmiling face. “Because you will be my wife.”
She had not meant to spit it out so bluntly, but there was no point in stopping. “I cannot marry you.”
“You will.” He was certain, his voice arrogant to the point it was clear arguing was useless. “You need not concern yourself with paltry details. I will let you have your way.”
Challenging him, her brows tight, Arabella tested, “You would pay for Hugh's education? You would raise him to a gentleman?”
By the way his lip curled, it was clear the very idea was beyond preposterous—that he hated it as much as he hated anything.
Seeing she had earned some ground, Arabella tried to make him see reason, “If you were not trying to force my hand, I could continue to draw the income to do such things myself. Can we not just continue as we are?”
The man did not hold a trace of softness in his bearing. “I have spent some time observing Lord Dalton and can assure you, your absolute ruin is close at hand. There will be no more widow’s share.”