The Accidental Duke (The Mad Matchmaking Men of Waterloo Book 1) by Devlin, Barbara (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📕

the mere suggestion abhorrent. More than that, it is false, and I will defend my husband with my life, if I must.”

“My lady, if you believe in Lord Rockingham, then I believe in Lord Rockingham.” The maid enveloped Arabella in the sheer robe, more an afterthought than a practical garment, letting the delicate folds fall into place. Then Emily secured the single mother-of-pearl button at Arabella’s throat. “There. Oh, my lady, you are a vision. Daresay Lord Rockingham counts himself the most fortunate of men, tonight.”

“Thank you, Emily.” Arabella eased into her slippers and told herself everything would be fine, even as butterflies fluttered in her belly. “If you will put away my things, you may retire for the night.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Emily scurried about, tidying the room. She hung the discarded clothes on a peg in the armoire and turned down the bed. After one last survey of the area, she curtseyed and cast an impish grin. “Sleep well, my lady.”

Alone, Arabella walked to the long mirror and studied her appearance. Cupping her chin, she glanced from side to side. What she spied in her reflection stole her breath. Her eyes filled with newfound spirit, and her face presented a canvas colored with emotion. A warm, vibrant fire burned within her, and she could not deny the truth.

How had she missed the obvious development?

How had she yielded her heart and not known it?

She was a woman in love.

The answer to the mystery proved simple. While she studied all manner of intellectual topics, often conducting her own experiments, she never explored the passionate complexities of the male-female relationship. To that day, the connection bewildered her, because she never bothered to examine it. She used women’s novels to conceal what she considered more serious books, when she patronized the booksellers with her father. Perhaps, she shouldn’t have been so quick to discount what she deemed a frivolous waste of time. Were she as smart as she presumed, she should have investigated sentimental attachments before she married. Now, everything seemed muddled except for a single nagging prospect that consumed her thoughts. Which begged the question: Did Anthony share her attachment?

Determined to find the answer, Arabella marched to the double door portal and turned the cool metal knob. With the heavy oak panel set wide, she thrust herself into the fray. Seated where she left him, Anthony did not acknowledge her dramatic entrance or her presence, much to her disappointment.

“My lord, are you unwell?” she prompted, hoping for some recognition of her provocative attire. After all, she dressed for his delectation. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Hmm?” He faced her, and his expression sobered, as he scrutinized her appearance from top to toe. Slowly, he stood. “My lady wife, you are more beautiful than I can say.”

“Thank you.” Steeling her nerves, she walked to him, her eyes never leaving his. “Shall I refill your brandy?”

“No.” He shook his head and furrowed his brow. Something sinister and foreboding danced in his troubled gaze. “I’ve had enough.” He pulled her close. “Come and sit, because we need to talk.”

“Of course, I am at your service.” His reaction was not what she anticipated. Given the sheer material that did little to conceal her body, she had prepared to be ravished. At the very least, she expected him to kiss her. Still, she did as he bade. “What do you wish to discuss?”

“Well, since our original plan involved an appeal to your father, and we now know he is a willing accomplice in our abduction, we must alter our tack.” Ah, he ogled her breasts, just visible and posing a tantalizing temptation, meaning he was not so immune to her enticing turnout as he pretended. “I have been thinking about our situation and of those in a position to assist us. The solution is obvious. We must appeal to Beaulieu and the Mad Matchmakers, but first we must make contact. How far have you progressed with the maid?”

“As well as can be expected, under the circumstances.” Arabella snapped her fingers. “But I may have had a breakthrough, today.”

“Oh?” He reached for her hand and stroked her palm with his thumb. The gentle sashay gave her gooseflesh. “Tell me.”

“She asked about you. I believe she is naturally curious, given what Dr. Shaw told her and my characterizations to the contrary.” For some reason, she didn’t feel comfortable sharing the news of her affection, because she sensed he would not welcome the development. “In fact, she declared that if I have faith in you, so does she. That must count for something.”

“That is good to hear.” It was a fortunate turn of events, yet he did not seem pleased.

“My lord—Anthony, what is wrong?” If only he would kiss her. She could sit and listen to him for hours, if only he would kiss her. “You seem out of sorts. Have I done something to upset you?”

“My dear, you are blameless. I could not fault you for our current predicament, if I tried.” He shifted and faced her. In a low voice, he said, “Escape is not our only concern. The danger is two-fold.”

“How so?” she inquired, puzzled by his somber demeanor.

“According to Dr. Shaw, my father’s plan alters once I get you with child. At that point, they will separate us.” Anthony gazed into the hearth and swallowed hard. “I care not what happens to me, but I cannot countenance the thought of you in Shaw’s custody. I don’t trust the man. And even more loathsome is his stated intent to take possession of our babe. That I cannot abide.”

“Neither can I, so what do you recommend?” She squeezed his fingers. “Also, I would have you know that I care what happens to you, but you know I am with you, come what may, so how do we defeat Shaw?”

“There is only one solution, and it requires great sacrifice on both our parts. We must not make love.” He met her stare and frowned, and her stomach plummeted.