She sent Marcus a provocative glance. “We shall see.”
“Perhaps I’ll invite Eleanor here for a visit. She would enjoy riding here far more than the tame environs of Hyde Park.”
“She lives in London with you?”
“In London, but not with me. With our elderly aunt, who acts as her chaperone. Eleanor moved there for her comeout three years ago and chose to stay.”
“If you have been her guardian for so long, did you try to marry her off the way you planned to do us?”
Amusement curved his lips. “I wouldn’t dream of trying to play matchmaker for my sister. Thankfully there is no need, since as an heiress, she can have her pick of suitors. At the moment, like you she is resolved to remain single-although she has been betrothed twice. Both times she called off the engagement. Our aunt fears Eleanor is earning a reputation as a jilt.”
Arabella’s eyebrow rose quizzically. “I expect she had a good reason.”
“She decided she wasn’t in love after all,” Marcus answered lightly. He turned his head to study Arabella. “I am curious about your betrothal. Did you love your viscount?”
Arabella couldn’t restrain her wince. It was still painful to remember her former betrothal to George, Viscount Underwood. She had indeed loved him. She’d believed in a future with him, the hope for children.
Realizing that Marcus was waiting for her reply, however, she composed her features to blandness. She was reluctant to answer such a personal question, but perhaps he deserved to know why she had no intention of entertaining his offer of marriage.
“Yes, I loved him,” Arabella said, keeping her tone even. “It was the only reason I accepted his proposal, even though it was considered an excellent match and precisely what was expected of me. After my parents’ experience, I wasn’t willing to settle for a marriage of convenience.”
“He obviously didn’t love you. If he had, he would never have let the scandal come between you.”
She was better prepared this time to hide her wince. “No, he didn’t love me,” she agreed.
Strangely, Marcus’s jaw hardened with something resembling anger. “It was hardly honorable of him to withdraw his suit once you became betrothed.”
Arabella gave a dismissive shrug. “True. But I soon realized how fortunate I was that we didn’t actually marry, since he didn’t love me as he claimed. Our marriage would likely have deteriorated into nothing more than a cold legal union at best.” She managed a smile. “In any event, it was four years ago, when I was young and naive. I have grown much wiser since. But you see why I am not eager to repeat the experience?”
Marcus was still studying her closely. “I can see I will have to prove to you that I am nothing like your viscount.”
Arabella couldn’t help but be amused by the comparison. Her viscount was very little like Marcus. Not nearly as physically attractive or as…forceful. George was a gentle man, very unlike her powerful, dynamic, libertine father, also-which was primarily what she had found appealing about him. But he had turned out to have little backbone.
“You have nothing to prove on that account, Marcus,” she said. “There are few similarities between you.”
“You may be sure I won’t run at the first hi
nt of scandal.”
“No, I can’t imagine you running from anything.” Arabella gave him a genuine smile. “And truthfully, I have become almost grateful for the scandal. In a way, it liberated us. My sisters and I are able to rule our own lives now”-she flashed him an ironic glance-“or we would if we didn’t have an unwanted guardian to contend with.”
His intent expression fading, Marcus grinned. “Sorry, love.”
“You aren’t sorry in the least,” Arabella replied lightly. “But as soon as our fortnight is up, I will be rid of you.”
“You don’t want to be rid of me. You are enjoying our wager too much.”
“Am I indeed?”
“Most definitely. You relish the exhilaration of challenging me and matching wits with a worthy opponent.”
Arabella arched an eloquent eyebrow. “How can you presume to know what I feel?”
His reply was more serious than she expected. “Because I feel the same exhilaration. One I haven’t known in years.”
“It must be dyspepsia.”
Marcus chuckled. “Come now, admit it. Your life has been deadly dull without me here to enliven it, with only your school to occupy your time.”