To Pleasure a Lady (Courtship Wars 1)

“Marcus, it would cost a fortune to have gowns made on such short notice!”

“I happen to have a fortune, sweeting. And I can think of no better way to spend it.”

This time Arabella shook her head firmly. “We don’t need your charity.”

“It isn’t charity. As your guardian, I am obliged to provide for you.”

Hearing the echo of her late step-uncle’s complaints at being saddled with their upkeep, Arabella felt herself stiffen. “It is indeed charity, and we won’t accept.”

Marcus pinned her with a stern look. “Don’t be tiresome, love. It is only your pride suffering.”

Arabella scowled at him in return. “That is easy for you to say. You have obviously never been utterly dependent on anyone. You can’t understand the helpless feeling-how humiliating it is to be beholden for every morsel of food and stitch of clothing on your back-”

“No, I cannot understand,” he agreed sympathetically. “But your former guardian was a selfish, miserly bastard who deserved to have his teeth knocked down his throat for treating his own nieces like supplicants.”

Then perhaps realizing how distressing the subject was for Arabella, Marcus softened his expression. “If you won’t accept a new gown for your own sake, then do it for me. My pride is at stake. I won’t have my wards dressed in rags. And surely you don’t want to appear at a disadvantage in front of your pupils by appearing at the ball dressed in outmoded gowns.”

When she hesitated, Marcus prodded, “Come now, confess it, Arabella. You would like to go, if only to prove that you and your sisters are as worthy as the haughty nobs who have scorned you all these years.”

She couldn’t deny that the thought had appeal. When she remained silent, however, Marcus continued. “I imagine your sisters would find it pleasant to be welcomed back by their peers…to take their rightful place in society. And so would you.”

She looked away, surprised that Marcus seemed to understand her conflicted feelings. Four years ago, when she’d been disowned by her peers and many of the acquaintances she’d called friends, Arabella had held her head high-defiantly, in fact-refusing to let her life be governed by the fickle denizens of the Beau Monde. Yet there were times when she found herself longing for the kind of acceptance she had enjoyed since birth, before she and her sisters had become social pariahs. Even though she had pretended not to care, she did care, probably more than was wise. And she very badly wanted Roslyn and Lily to have the opportunities denied them when their familiar world had come crashing down around them.

Marcus’s low tone was unexpectedly serious when he said, “I can see that you and your sisters are accepted in society again, Arabella.” Then he caught her hand and made her look at him.

Arabella drew an uneven breath. The warmth in his eyes made it too easy for her to forget that she was supposed to be resisting his overtures. She was oddly touched by his concern, though. His protectiveness brought a strange ache to her throat.

It took effort to withdraw her hand from his grasp. “I would indeed like to attend the ball for my sisters’ sake…”

Marcus smiled slowly. “Then it’s settled. I will escort the three of you. Have your sisters come to the Hall tomorrow morning to have their measurements taken by the modiste.”

Arabella felt her mouth twisting in reluctant amusement as she eyed Marcus. “Only a nobleman would have the confidence to think he needs only snap his fingers to make the world do his bidding.”

“Because it’s true,” he said amiably. “Never underestimate the power that comes with rank and wealth.”

“Oh, I do not underestimate it, believe me.”

His gaze leveled on her. “You could always accept my proposal of marriage. As Lady Danvers, you would be able to lord it over the entire neighborhood.”

Arabella couldn

’t help but smile, as no doubt he’d meant her to. “That is a delightful notion…but even that treat won’t tempt me to marry you, Marcus.”

“Then I will have to think of some other means of convincing you. I can be quite resourceful when I put my mind to it, you know.”

She found herself laughing softly as she turned to gaze out the carriage window. Somehow Marcus had managed not only to banish the dismay she’d felt over Sybil’s spiteful comment, but to lighten her spirits as well. It would be extremely gratifying if he could reinstate her sisters in society as he anticipated.

Hearing her husky laughter, Marcus felt an unfamiliar softening inside him. It was rather humbling to witness Arabella’s fortitude. He’d never been subjected to the sort of blatant ostracism she had endured, not even for his most outrageous transgressions. For years Arabella had been unjustly humiliated and scorned for her parents’ sins.

But, Marcus vowed, he intended to change that, even before she became his countess. By the time he was through, every high-browed member of the Quality in the district would be making amends to her.

Chapter Nine

I never expected to be grateful to the earl, but I truly am.

– Arabella to Fanny

The next several days passed in a whirl for Arabella. Every available moment was filled with dress fittings and unexpected visitors in addition to ongoing house renovations and her usual classes at the academy.