Unmasking the Duke's Mistress (Gentlemen of Disrepute #1)(56)

‘You are threatening his safety?’ She stared into those black eyes, reeling at the ruthlessness she saw there.

‘Take my words in whatever way you will.’ He smiled the coldest smile of promise she had ever seen and she knew with an absolute certainty that this man would have no qualms about executing all that he threatened. Arabella shivered and felt goose pimples break out over her skin.

‘If you have not left Arlesford by tomorrow I will go ahead and make good on my promise to publish. Do you understand, Mrs Marlbrook?’

‘I understand, sir, and I will do as you ask.’ The gall was rising in her throat. ‘Take your money. I do not want it.’ She lifted the packet of money from the table and handed it to him.

‘If you insist.’ He smiled and slipped it back into his pocket. ‘Do not bother calling your butler. I will show myself out.’

When the front door shut after him she went to the window and saw him walking along the street. There was no horse; there was no carriage. Mr Smith vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

She leaned heavily against the table, trying to smooth the unevenness of her breathing, trying to calm the anger and the fear that had set her whole her body trembling.

What choice did she have? He had threatened to expose Archie and end Dominic’s life. Arabella dared not risk either. There was no one she could tell. No one who would help her. She did not want to panic and frighten her mother. She knew this was a decision she would have to make on her own. Except that there was no decision to make. How could there be when it came to those whom she loved?

One more deep breath and then she stood up straight and walked through to tell her mother to start packing.



Arabella heard Dominic’s carriage come to a halt outside Curzon Street at nine o’clock that evening. He had come to collect her for the ball. Arabella was sitting alone in the drawing room, dressed not for the ball but in a plain day dress with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. The curtains were drawn; there was no fire upon the hearth, and only a single candle had been lit. The room was in semi-darkness, just as she wanted it, for she did not want him to be able to see the truth upon her face when she told him.

She heard the closing of the front door and the steady sound of his footsteps as he approached the drawing room. Her stomach clenched with the dread of what she must do.

‘Arabella?’ She could see the surprise upon his face. ‘What is wrong? You are not ready for the ball.’

‘I am not going to the ball.’ She rose from the chair and stood very still facing him. She felt chilled, so chilled that her legs were trembling. ‘Dominic, I have to speak to you.’ It did not matter how many hours she had spent rehearsing the words, now it came to speaking them they would not come to her lips. She felt sick to the pit of her stomach, so sick that she wondered if she was going to be able to go through with this.

‘What has happened, Arabella?’ The growing concern in his eyes made it impossible for her to look at him. And she wanted to tell him the truth so much, all about Smith and his horrible threats. But the promise of what that villain would do was too clear in her head. Smith would ruin Archie and God only knew what he intended for Dominic. She thought of the night Dominic had come here with the mark of a blade across his ribs, and she wondered if that, too, had been Smith’s handiwork. She was shaking so much at the thought she feared Dominic would see it. She thought of how much she loved both Archie and the man who was his father, and knew she had to do this, for both their sakes. She forced herself on.

‘Matters have changed. I…I have reconsidered my situation…’ She gripped her hands tightly together.

He came towards her and she knew he meant to take her in his arms and she knew absolutely that she could not let that happen. ‘No!’ She put out a hand to stay him and backed away. ‘Please come no closer.’

He stopped where he was. ‘Arabella, are you going to tell me what this is about?’

She took a breath. And then another. There was no excuse she could give.

‘I…’ There was nothing that would make it any easier for either of them.

‘I cannot…’ She must say the words.

‘Dominic…’ She must say them no matter how like poison they were on her tongue.

‘I cannot marry you. I am breaking our betrothal.’

He gave a half-gasp half-laugh, but his eyes were serious and tense. ‘Is this some sort of jest?’

‘It is no jest.’ She could not bring herself to meet his gaze. She willed herself to think of Archie, not of what she was doing to them all.

There was a moment’s silence as he absorbed what she had said.

‘Why?’ It was the question she had known he would ask and the one she could not bear to answer. She shook her head.

‘Have I pushed you too much into the public eye? If all these outings are too much we can reduce them. Spend some evenings more—’

‘No,’ she interrupted him. ‘No,’ she said again.

‘Is it the wedding? We can make it a small quiet affair if that is what you prefer.’

‘No, Dominic.’ It was harder even than the worst of her imaginings. ‘It is none of that, nor anything that you have done. Please believe me.’

‘Then what?’

She shook her head again.

‘I love you, Arabella.’