To Pleasure a Lady (Courtship Wars)

While Sybil slowly made her way down, Arabella turned a withering gaze on Onslow. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Onslow, preying on young innocents.”

“I assure you, ma’am, Miss Newstead is no innocent,” he muttered. “She is a viper masquerading as a female.”

Arabella felt her hands clench as she fought the urge to do him physical damage.

As if reading her mind, he held up his own hands in surrender. “I never touched her, Miss Loring, I swear it. Thankfully I came to my senses in time. I couldn’t bear two days being wed to that spoiled little she-devil, let alone a lifetime.”

Arabella felt another surge of relief that Sybil was still virginal. At least that disaster had been averted. When she shared a thankful look with Marcus, he stepped forward.

Nervously Onslow retreated a step. “M-My lord…” He eyed the pistol in alarm. “You w-won’t shoot me, will you?”

“Not if you take yourself out of my sight in the next ten seconds.”

“Yes, of c-course…”

He started for the door, but Marcus stopped him. “Oh, and Onslow, when your carriage is repaired, you will continue on your way to Scotland, where you will make an extended stay. If you show your face anywhere near Chiswick again-and if I ever hear of you attempting to repair your fortunes by eloping with an heiress-you will be meeting me on the dueling field and swallowing a bullet. Nothing will save you. Do I make myself clear?”

His tone was cool and deadly, and Onslow clearly believed him, for his face turned stark white. “Perfectly clear, my lord. But you needn’t worry. I have learned my lesson, I swear it.”

When Marcus gestured with the pistol toward the door, Onslow ran out of the barn as if the little she-devil herself were on his heels.

In the ensuing silence, Sybil came to stand beside Arabella, her head bowed humbly. “Oh, Miss Loring, can you ever forgive me?”

Unable to believe such meekness, Arabella eyed the girl narrowly. “I cannot think of any reason I should.”

“I made a dreadful mistake, thinking I wanted to wed that dastardly fortune hunter.”

“You did indeed,” she replied tartly. “Have you no sense whatsoever, Sybil?”

Awkwardly, the girl twisted the strings of her bandbox. “I thought it would be romantic to elope.”

“And you didn’t think about the future at all. You didn’t consider what would happen to you two days from now, much less twenty years.” Arabella’s tone softened. “Marriage is a risk under the best of circumstances. Because of your reckless impulsiveness, you could have suffered for the rest of your life.”

With that, Arabella turned to leave the barn.

Sybil hurried after her, carrying her bandbox. “You won’t tell Papa that I almost eloped?”

“I am still debating that question.”

“Please don’t tell him, Miss Loring! Papa will be furious enough to withdraw me from school, and I don’t want to leave. My comeout isn’t until next Season.”

Arabella said not another word until they reached the road. “Get in,” she ordered Sybil as a groom hastened to open the door to the Freemantle carriage.

Mutely, the girl obeyed. Entering after her, Arabella settled next to Sybil, while Marcus stowed her bandbox in the boot and the coachman transferred her valise from Onslow’s broken-down vehicle. After a brief discussion about driving to the next intersection so as to have the space to turn the coach around, Marcus joined them inside.

The coach was moving before Sybil spoke again in an imploring tone. “Please, Miss Loring, don’t tell my father. If I have to leave the academy, I won’t be prepared for my comeout next Season. I will behave with complete circumspection from now on, I swear it. I will be a perfect angel.”

Arabella raised a cool eyebrow. “And what reason do I have to trust your word after this?”

The girl looked despairing. “I know I have been exceedingly foolish, Miss Loring, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” There was a note of sincerity in her voice that rang true. “Please, can’t we keep this between us? I beg you.”

Arabella waited a long moment before she shrugged as if coming to a decision. “Very well, we will keep it between ourselves-if that is even possible at this juncture.”

The coach slowed just then in order to change directions, and a short while later they were heading back toward London.

“Will you take me back to school?” Sybil asked, her tone still subdued.

“Not immediately. You will stay with Lady Freemantle for a day or two. We’ll say that you became ill and that I took you to London to see her ladyship’s physician. You will recuperate at her house for a time. If Lady Freemantle publicly vouches for you, that should be enough to scotch the worst gossip and prevent any permanent damage to your reputation.”