Unmasking the Duke's Mistress (Gentlemen of Disrepute #1)(70)

She followed the path as it curved its way around some mighty ancient oaks and then she hesitated, for there, coming closer and closer, was the shadowed figure of a horseman cantering along the pathway towards her. And there was something terribly familiar about the rider. As the seconds passed and as he came closer she recognised the dark clad man.

She stared and her heart seemed to cease beating and her lungs to cease breathing.

He was dressed impeccably in a dark tailcoat and buff-coloured riding breeches, with black highly polished top boots. His hat, gloves and riding crop were held together in one hand. The dappled sunshine touched red highlights to his hair and the breeze had stirred it to a sensual disarray.

‘Dominic?’ she whispered. Was it really him? Or just a product of her own wishful mind?

‘Arabella.’ His face had never looked more filled with love. There was no trace of the anger or hurt she remembered from their last meeting; he just looked glad and relieved to see her. He slipped down from his horse and came towards her, and there could be no mistake.

‘Oh, Dominic!’ She could not prevent herself from running into his open arms. She buried her face against his chest and he held her tight. ‘Dominic.’

She heard the murmur of his voice and felt his kisses against her hair and the stroke of his hands against her back. And then she remembered. Smith. His threats. And she was suddenly desperately afraid of what she might have betrayed.

‘Forgive my reaction. I was a little overcome by the shock of seeing you here.’ Her voice, for all she was trying to sound sober and unaffected did not sound convincing even to herself. She made to pull back, to disengage herself from him, but Dominic’s arms tightened around her so there was no escape. She dared not look at him, not trusting herself to play the role that was required to protect him.

‘You have come to visit Archie.’ Her throat was so tight the words sounded stilted, awkward, teetering too close to breaking down.

‘I have come for you, Arabella.’

There was only the whisper of the wind through the green canopy of the leaves above.

Slowly, unable to fight against it any more, she raised her gaze to his. His eyes were a deep dark velvet. ‘You cannot. You must not.’ She clutched at the lapels of his tailcoat, in a silent plea. ‘You do not understand!’ She looked away, knowing she was handling this all wrong.

‘Arabella, it is all right. I know about Smith.’

Her heart gave a flutter and fear twisted cold and hard in her stomach. ‘You know?’ She felt the blood drain from her face and Dominic’s arms tightened around her. She looked up at him with dawning horror. ‘You cannot,’ she whispered. ‘You cannot know. He will kill you, for pity’s sake! Dominic, he will—’

But he placed a gentle hand at the nape of her neck, calming her panic and forcing her to look at him.

‘Arabella, I have taken care of Smith. He will do nothing. You and Archie are safe.’

‘It was not about me.’

‘I know what it was about.’ He stroked her hair. ‘But I am safe too.’

‘Thank God,’ she cried and held him to her, and pressed fierce kisses to his neck, his chin, his cheek. ‘I was so afraid—but how?’ And the coldness of the thought that followed. ‘Oh, my word, he did not publish, did he, all that he threatened?’

‘He did not publish anything, Arabella, nor will he.’ And then he told her. That Smith was not Smith at all, but Viscount Linwood. And why Linwood had done what he had done. He told her, and finally Arabella understood.

‘You are certain?’

‘Nothing can ever be certain, Arabella, but I do not think that Linwood would risk the damage to his sister’s reputation, nor Misbourne to his daughter’s.’

She thought of the pretty, quietly spoken girl in the apothecary’s shop in London, and this time it was sorrow that she felt for Lady Marianne. ‘You would not really destroy her, would you, Dominic?’

‘You know I would not. But as long as Misbourne and Linwood believe otherwise we are safe.’

She did not know how long they stood in each other’s arms on that silent woodland path. Time lost all meaning. Arabella knew only that he was safe and her child was safe, and that, somehow, everything was going to be all right.

She looked into the eyes of the man that she loved and had so wounded. ‘I have deceived you over so many things since that night in Mrs Silver’s. And I am sorry for every one of them. I love you, Dominic.’

‘I love you too, Arabella. And it is I who am sorry. I cannot forgive myself for what I did to you in Mrs Silver’s, nor for what I did afterwards. I should have helped you, not made you my mistress.’

‘Perhaps,’ she nodded. ‘But had we both chosen a different path it might not have led us to a better place. Would your father’s deception ever have come to light? Would I ever have told you of Archie? We cannot know, Dominic.’

‘We cannot,’ he agreed and he looked at her with such tenderness that she could not doubt he loved her.

The sunlight had faded, casting the surrounding woodland in the mossy greens and deep browns of twilight. The air was growing chilled, but Arabella’s heart was warm.

‘The sun is sinking, Arabella. I had better get you back to your mother before she thinks I have carried you off. She looked rather worried when I appeared at her door this evening, but she did tell me the direction you had taken.’