Heath added in a provoking tone, “As I said, you could always offer for her yourself. It would be entertaining to watch you try to conquer her.”
Drew’s mouth twisted with a mocking smile. “You might find it refreshing, having to chase a woman for a change.”
Marcus sent his friends a look of annoyance. “Have a care, my fine fellows. If you keep ragging me about matrimony, I’ll find a way to make you marry my wards.”
“I can understand,” Drew replied, unintimidated, “why the Loring sisters would object to your guardianship. Women like the illusion of pulling all the strings, making men dance to their bidding. Not being treated as an unpleasant duty, as you seem to consider your wards.”
“I wouldn’t find the duty unpleasant at all,” Heath mused. “I could enjoy a dispute with the likes of Miss Arabella. What about it, Marcus? You’ve been complaining for some time about boredom. A battle with her will surely add spice to your life.” Heath paused, surveying Marcus over the rim of his mug. “And judging from that glint in your eye, you think so, too.”
Marcus nodded. Battling Arabella Loring would be a cure for his ennui, no question. “Doubtless it will prove interesting. I’ll find out when I travel to Danvers Hall next week to settle the issue of their marriages.”
He didn’t know just yet precisely how he would deal with Arabella. But he was keenly looking forward to their next confrontation.
The trouble with bearding a lion in his den, Arabella thought as she climbed into her patroness’s plush traveling chaise, was that one risked being eaten. Perhaps she had escaped becoming a tasty meal for Marcus Pierce, the new Earl of Danve
rs, but her pride had certainly suffered.
As the coachmen whipped up the team to return to Chiswick, Arabella sank back against the velvet squabs and waited for her wits to stop whirling. Lord Danvers had made her so addled for a moment that she’d actually forgotten her purpose in coming.
She’d traveled to London this morning, determined to use logic and charm to make him see reason and convince him to relinquish his unwanted guardianship. But he had completely taken her off guard when she’d interrupted his fencing practice.
It was deplorable, the way her pulse had quickened at her first sight of him. He was tall and athletically built, with thick ebony hair, midnight blue eyes, and the square, chiseled features of a Greek god. But no marble statue had ever made her want to touch it or sparked such brazen images in her mind as he had kindled.
Arabella winced, remembering how his open shirt had exposed part of his muscular chest and the dark hair curling invitingly in the gap. The earl’s state of undress, combined with the gleam of amusement in his shrewd blue eyes, had totally disconcerted her. And then she had allowed him to provoke her into losing her temper.
She couldn’t imagine what had prompted her to threaten him like that when she had meant to sweetly persuade. It clearly had been a mistake to challenge him, since a man of his ilk obviously relished challenges.
Lord Danvers had shockingly turned the tables on her, rendering her breathless by nearly kissing her. What was worse, she had wanted him to do it! She’d made an ignominious but judicious retreat without attaining her goal, not trusting herself to remain any longer.
The encounter had left her unsettled inside and supremely vexed with herself, not only by her failure but by her foolish attraction to him.
“Silly widgeon,” Arabella muttered to herself. “You not only let him get the upper hand, you acted like any other witless female, attracted to a handsome nobleman.”
His lordship’s superior smugness was just what she had expected. He was a provoking devil, arrogant and highhanded, thinking he knew what was best for them. Yet she couldn’t deny his impact was potent. She had felt the fire between them during those few brief moments when they’d been locked together in a battle of wills.
With a sigh of disgust, Arabella turned her head to gaze out the carriage window at the passing countryside.
She should have been better prepared for him. Her good friend Fanny Irwin-whom she had known since childhood and who currently was London’s most famous courtesan-had warned her about Marcus Pierce. About his striking looks, his roguish charm, his keen intelligence. As one of the country’s most eligible aristocrats, he had enchanted half of England’s female population-and bedded a good number of them.
Most women found his sort of rakish charm appealing. But then most women had not had to suffer a libertine father their whole lives long, as Arabella had.
Her new guardian was too blasted handsome for his own good. The thought made Arabella press her lips together in self-reproach. Her mother had sacrificed everything for a handsome face…including her own daughters. The wrenching pain of Mama’s abandonment still cut like a knife, even after four years.
When Victoria Loring had absconded with her lover, her daughters were left to deal with the resultant humiliation and disgrace. Then to exacerbate matters further, their father, Sir Charles Loring, had gambled away the last of his fortune two weeks later and was killed in a duel over one of his mistresses.
Beyond the emotional devastation of losing both their parents and their family home in one fell blow, the Loring sisters had paid dearly for the scandals in other ways. Arabella had lost her betrothed because of it. Her three-month engagement to a viscount-a man she had sincerely loved-had been quickly terminated, since he wasn’t brave enough to defy the vicious censure of the Beau Monde for her sake. His professions of love had proved as ephemeral as cloud wisps, leaving Arabella feeling as if her heart had been broken, just as the poets maintained.
Roslyn, the real beauty of the family, had been denied any sort of respectable future. When her Season ended so abruptly, so did her chance for any suitable marriage proposals. Even more mortifying, she’d been offered carte blanche by three different rakes, infamous propositions that never would have occurred had their step-uncle been a better guardian.
Lilian had had no chance to make a respectable match, either, although she claimed not to mind. Damming up her feelings of anguish and grief, the youngest Loring sister had run a little wild, rebelling against society’s strictures and the haughty arbiters of the ton who had repudiated her and her siblings.
Lily had become something of a hellion, much to Arabella’s chagrin. She couldn’t help but feel guilty for failing to protect her sisters, since she was the eldest. She’d only been nineteen when their mother abandoned them, but she still felt responsible. Particularly since their step-uncle was such a curmudgeon who cared so little for their welfare.
The seventh Lord Danvers, Lionel Doddridge, had taken them in grudgingly when their family home in Hampshire had been sold to pay their late father’s debts, treating them as burdens and objects of charity.
“You’ll keep out of my way,” he’d warned the moment they arrived on his doorstep. “And you’ll behave yourselves, if you know what’s good for you. Your mother made herself a byword for scandal, and I won’t have you disgracing me as she did.”
“You needn’t worry, Uncle Lionel,” Arabella had responded tightly, speaking for them all. “We have no intention of behaving like our mother.”