Arabella Mason trudged up the long drive leading to Ulverscroft Manor. It hadn’t seemed such a long walk when she’d first begun it, but the house was so large it had appeared closer to the end of the drive when she started out. She kept her attention fixed on it, ignoring her weariness. The great towers on either side of the impressive façade showed an expanse of windows glittering coldly in the weak October sunshine. The gray exterior lowered balefully, an extension of the gray autumn sky above it. As if some celestial architect had wanted to create a completely gray landscape. Even the green grass looked washed out, a result of the heavy cloud cover, threatening rain before nightfall. Or before she reached the house.
Arabella was so engrossed in the great building before her she didn’t see the silent watcher until she cannoned into him. Bouncing off a definitely male torso, she gave a little scream. His arms went around her to stop her from falling. Instead of releasing her, he studied her. Arabella found herself gazing up into a pair of eyes so dark they were almost black. It was impossible for her to read their expression, but the finely wrought mouth quirked up at the corners so it was a fair wager that the gentleman was amused rather than put out. And this was a gentleman. Plainly dressed, but the cut of his country coat and the fine wool fabric proclaimed its expense.
His voice, deeply amused, reached her stunned senses. “Nothing for miles and you managed not to see me? I only know one other female who could have done that. Can it be that you need spectacles, dear lady?”
Not at all sure she liked being addressed in such a way, Arabella snapped, “Of course not! I’ve never visited Ulverscroft House before and its size took me aback.” The gentleman must have stepped out of the looming shade of one of the great lime trees that bordered the drive. Unsporting of him not to announce his presence to her. She wondered how long he’d watched her before stepping into her path.
He kept all his attention on her. “Yes, the sheer size of the place does sometimes surprise the unwary visitor. A very arrogant Elizabethan built it. Whose descendant, by the way, is currently in residence, so if you were hoping this was a Public Day, you are sadly mistaken.” His gaze slipped past her face to the body below it, “However if you wish, I’m sure I can manage a private tour. Just for you.” His eyes glinted with wicked promise.
Arabella shook herself, but it only served to make him settle his grip more firmly about her waist. “I have business with the earl or perhaps his chief steward.”
“You interest me.” His voice slid over her skin like velvet.
Before Arabella realized what he was about to do, he dropped a quick, hard kiss on her mouth and released her before she could protest. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. I suppose a gentleman might have resisted, but I’m not always a gentleman and you are very hard to resist.”
Arabella should have been outraged at his effrontery but she satisfied herself with shaking out the folds of her best green cloak like a ruffled pigeon. It wasn’t every day she bearded an earl in his den, and she had dressed for courage and self-confidence. Now this man had shaken it.
She took the chance to take in his appearance. The hair tied back in a neat queue under the cocked hat was as dark as his eyes. The mouth that had briefly touched hers was finely delineated, and full of sin. Arabella wagered it had known many female caresses. He stood with a careless confidence that showed him as much the gentleman as his well cut country coat and breeches, and the gleaming black boots caressing his calves.
Arabella was too honest to deny that she found him attractive, but she was still ruffled and unsure. “I am, however, a respectable woman.”
“I’m afraid I’m not a very respectable man.” He swept off his hat and bowed to her, making an elegant job of it. He must be a member of the family or a high-ranking servant. She waited, one eyebrow lifted, for his explanation. His rueful laugh told her she was going to get it. “Peter Worsley, at your service, ma’am. May I enquire the nature of your business with my father?”
She bobbed a curtsey, aware of her lack of elegance. “Arabella Mason, sir. Mrs. Arabella Mason.” He didn’t seem in the least put out by her emphasis on the Mrs. “I think his lordship should know my news. I’m sorry, but it concerns his land steward.”
“Tulling?” Mr. Worsley frowned. “What has he done?”
“No, sir, not Tulling. Mr. Lewis Worth.”
The frown deepened. “We’ve never had a steward by that name, I’d swear to it.” He stared at her, and then seemed to make a decision and held his arm out for her to take. “Come with me.” Arabella placed her hand on it.
He led her to the broad front steps and through the front door, which was thrown open at their approach.
The interior wasn’t what Arabella would call welcoming. The great doors led into a huge hall, its timbered roof far above their heads, the heads of long dead game animals mounted for display. Arabella couldn’t repress a shudder.
“Yes,” she heard him say sympathetically. “They have to burn several trees to make a difference to this room in the winter.”
He urged her forward, towards a door at the back of the hall. Arabella planted both feet firmly on the marble floor. When he looked around, fine-drawn brows lifted in expectation, she lifted her hands to her bonnet strings.
A footman materialized at her elbow, correctly reading her desire. Mr. Worsley grinned and removed his hat and gloves, tossing them to the man. Arabella took her time removing her bonnet, cloak and gloves. It gave her time to compose herself. She needed it. It had taken a great deal of courage for her to travel here today, and now she felt her tension rise at the prospect of what lay ahead.
Arabella shook out the skirts of her modest blue wool gown. She’d always been proud of this gown, but suddenly it seemed plain in this magnificent setting. When she turned to Mr. Worsley, he was watching her with a slight smile. She felt sure he was laughing at her.
Arabella put her chin up defiantly and stared back, provoking him into genuine laughter. “Enchanting!”
She wasn’t sure she liked it, but it sent a thrill of awareness right up her spine.
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