A Wealthy Widow Read online

  Arabella hesitated, then, ‘Perhaps I could spare a thousand or two, Aunt. For your sake I would help him this once.’

  ‘Oh, no, my dear,’ her aunt said, looking distressed at the idea. ‘Please do not offer. It would be a big mistake. He would only abuse your generosity and you would never be free of him. No, no, Ralph must learn to live within his means. He should look for some form of employment. I suggested that he go into the army or the church, but he was angry. He thinks that I shall sell this house for him, but I shall not.’

  ‘I do not see my cousin in the army, Aunt.’ Arabella could not picture Ralph as a vicar either, but refrained from saying so. Her cousin had been indulged too much as a boy and had never learned self-discipline. Selfish and thoughtless, he would not heed anyone’s advice. ‘But perhaps if he is driven to it, the church may serve.’

  ‘It is not to his liking,’ Lady Tate said, ‘but if he has ruined himself he must save what he can. While he continues to live in London and run with those friends of his…Mind you, Sir Montague Forsythe met with a fatal accident recently. I do not know the details but I think his sins had found him out, though Ralph will not say much concerning him. I believe they gambled together and Ralph was hoping that his friend would make him a loan to tide him over, but now it is out of the question.’

  Arabella nodded. She had never met Sir Montague Forsythe and did not know what kind of a man he might be, but perhaps he might have been of help to Ralph.

  ‘Yes, well, perhaps he has other friends that might help him.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Lady Tate said. ‘Another of his friends killed himself just before Sir Montague’s accident—possibly he had debt problems too. It has all been kept very quiet so I cannot say.’ She frowned and looked thoughtful. ‘I cannot pretend I am sorry they are gone, for they were a bad influence on Ralph. He had only been involved with them for a few months and I blame them for his excessive gambling. I think there is another—Sir Courtney Welch—but I do not think Ralph truly likes him. He does not speak of him, though I have seen them together.’

  ‘Well, I dare say my cousin may sell a part of the estate and recover,’ Arabella said. She reached out to touch her aunt’s hand. ‘Do not worry about it for the moment, dearest. I shall tell you what I have already told Ralph—if you should need it, there is always a home with me.’

  ‘You are such a sweet generous girl,’ her aunt said. ‘But I am determined not to give in to him, Arabella. This house and my jewels are all I have besides my jointure—and I do not intend to let Ralph’s foolishness ruin me completely.’

  Arabella nodded, but she could not help recalling the ugly look on her cousin’s face when he’d told her that she had left him no choice…Just what had he meant by that?

  Chapter Three

  ‘Haven’t seen you here for a while,’ Captain Hernshaw said as Charles Hunter walked into White’s that afternoon. ‘Good grief, man, you look awful—what happened to you?’

  ‘I had a slight accident,’ Charles admitted wryly. His injury had left him with a persistent headache. ‘I ought perhaps to have rested longer, but I had things to do. To be honest, I can’t stand being an invalid. Besides, Mama has decided that she will come up to town for a short visit next week and I have promised to be on hand to escort her to evening affairs.’

  ‘How is your mama?’ Captain Hernshaw frowned. He knew that Mrs Hunter had been ill for some months but was uncertain as to the cause, though he thought it might be something to do with her daughter, who was, he had heard, staying with cousins somewhere in Scotland.

  ‘She says she feels a little better,’ Charles said. ‘I think she might have been more sensible to take the air at Brighton or even Bath, but she wants to visit a friend of hers and also her seamstress.’

  ‘Ah, well, I dare say she knows best. The ladies usually do,’ Captain Hernshaw said and smiled. ‘Harry and Melinda are in town, you know.’

  ‘I remember your brother’s wife,’ Charles said, his stern features relaxing into a smile. ‘A sweet pretty girl…’ Very like his own sister! The thought struck like the blade of a knife. Melinda reminded him of Sarah, as she had been when he last saw her.

  ‘Yes, she is,’ Captain Hernshaw agreed. ‘She is enjoying herself very much this visit. A friend of hers is staying with Lady Tate and they go everywhere together.’

  ‘Ah, I see,’ Charles nodded. ‘Do you care for a game of cards?’

  ‘I was about to visit my fencing master. I feel in need of some exercise. If you don’t mind my saying so, Hunter, you look as if it would do you good. Why don’t you come along?’ He glanced across the room as a gentleman entered. ‘Besides, the air here has just become somewhat tainted. It is a pity that he cannot be blackballed.’

  Charles glanced in the direction of the other’s gaze, seeing the reason for Hernshaw’s distaste. Sir Courtney Welch had just entered the club and was standing looking in their direction, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ he said. ‘The man is a devil—let us go. Did you say your fencing club?’

  ‘I have been taking lessons from a new master recently—it is amusing to discover one’s own failings at the very least. And better than being invited to join Welch in a hand of whist.’

  ‘Well, yes, anything must be. A lesson in swordplay from a master is perhaps just what I need,’ Charles agreed with a grin. He had been labouring beneath a dark cloud for too long and a good fight with the swords might put him right. ‘I’m grateful, Hernshaw. I was at a loss to know what to do with myself.’ He nodded distantly to Sir Courtney as they passed.

  ‘Come to Melinda’s affair this evening,’ Hernshaw said as they went out into the street. ‘It’s only a buffet supper, music and cards, but I am sure she and Harry would be delighted to see you.’

  ‘Thank you, I shall,’ Charles said. He was feeling better for having met a friend. He had already sent three agents up to Yorkshire to search for his sister and there was no point in moping. Had his mother not decided that she would visit London the following week he would probably have posted off to Yorkshire himself in the morning, which would quite likely have been a wasted journey. His agents had far more chance of discovering news of Sarah than he had. ‘Yes, I would enjoy that, Hernshaw. I need a bit of light relief to blow the megrims away…’

  ‘I think I shall give a dinner at the end of next week,’ Lady Tate said as they were taking tea that afternoon. ‘A great friend of mine is coming up for a short visit. She will stay at her own house, of course, but I want to do something for her. She has been quite ill, you know. I think there was some kind of bother with her daughter, though she didn’t say quite what…Sarah was ill of a fever, I believe, and went to stay with cousins in Scotland. Selina was rather vague about it all, but she had a severe chill herself and was unwell for months.’

  ‘Poor lady,’ Arabella said. ‘It will be nice for you to see her, Aunt. We shall, of course, arrange a dinner party in her honour, but I dare say you will want to be private with her one afternoon. If you let me know, I shall take Tilda out so that you are not disturbed.’

  ‘Ah, yes, dear Tilda,’ Lady Tate said, smiling absently. ‘Always such a help to me, but rather inclined to come in when one doesn’t want her.’ She shook her head. ‘Being a companion is not an easy life, my dear. We must always remember that.’

  ‘Yes, of course I do,’ Arabella replied. ‘Tell me when your friend is coming to tea and I shall take Tilda shopping. It is quite time she had a new dress and a bonnet too.’

  ‘Such a generous girl,’ Lady Tate said, giving her a look of approval. ‘I was thinking about this evening, my dear—’ She broke off as the door opened and Tilda entered a little hesitantly. ‘Ah, there you are. I was about to send for you again. I shall have some more hot water brought in.’

  ‘Oh, have I kept you waiting? I am so sorry. Only I went to the library and changed your books and I happened to meet someone—’ She was about to blurt out her news, but then
checked. ‘It was just a friend…no one important.’ Tilda blushed and turned away, for she had almost embarrassed Arabella by telling her that she had seen Mr Hunter in front of her aunt. ‘Oh, yes—and I spoke to Captain Hernshaw, such a pleasant gentleman! We passed in the street and he went out of his way to be polite to me, Arabella. He asked if you were going to Melinda’s musical evening, and I assured him that we all would be there.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Arabella said. ‘I am looking forward to it.’

  ‘That is what I was about to say when Tilda came in,’ Lady Tate said, glancing at Arabella. ‘I wondered if you would mind if I didn’t join you this evening, dearest?’

  ‘Are you feeling unwell, Aunt?’

  Lady Tate shook her head. ‘Not really, my dear.’ She placed a hand to the centre of her chest. ‘Just a little discomfort. I suspect I have been eating too much rich food lately. It might be as well if I stayed home and had an early night. I think I shall have a light supper and go to bed with a book—if you do not mind?’

  ‘Would you like me to send for the doctor?’

  ‘No, indeed not,’ Lady Tate said. ‘It is nothing very much. I shall be better by the morning.’

  ‘Shall I stay with you this evening? I do not mind.’

  ‘Certainly not. I should not hear of it,’ Lady Tate said. ‘You must go, Arabella. You have Tilda to bear you company. I know Melinda would be very disappointed if you did not go.’

  ‘Yes, she would,’ Arabella agreed. ‘But she would understand if you needed me. However, if you feel that spending the evening in bed will suit you, I shall go as we agreed. If you are no better tomorrow, we shall have the doctor.’

  ‘It was perhaps those dates that Ralph bought me,’ Lady Tate said glancing at the small box of sweetmeats on the table beside her. ‘Some are stuffed with nuts and others with marzipan. He knows they are a favourite with me and I have eaten too many. I believe I shall tell the maids to throw them out, for I cannot resist them.’ She glanced at Tilda. ‘Unless you would like them? I shall not eat any more, for I cannot stop at one and I really should not have them.’

  ‘Oh, may I have them?’ Tilda looked pleased. ‘I am very partial to them, Lady Tate—but only if you are sure?’

  ‘Yes, perfectly sure. Take them up to your room—if they stay here I shall continue to eat them,’ Lady Tate pulled a face. ‘Foolish, I know, but as I said, they have always been a favourite with me.’

  ‘I found all the books you asked for,’ Tilda said, wanting to show herself deserving of the gift. ‘And I brought a book of poems that I thought you might like, Arabella.’

  The conversation turned and they talked of their favourite books, poetry and music until it was time for them all to go up and change for the evening, Tilda carrying the precious box of sweetmeats that she had been given.

  At the top of the stairs they parted, each going to her own room. Arabella said that she would pop in to say goodbye before she left and received a kiss on the cheek from her aunt. She was thoughtful as she went to her own room. It was unusual for Lady Tate to complain of feeling unwell—but she must not jump to conclusions. Just because Ralph had given his mother a box of sweetmeats and she was feeling ill after eating some of them, it did not follow that there was anything wrong with them.

  Arabella saw Charles Hunter almost as soon as she entered the large, elegantly appointed drawing room. It came as a complete surprise, making her heart jerk with shock and then race on. For a moment she was stunned. What was she to do? She had imagined that she would simply ignore him if they met in passing, but that was obviously going to be impossible, because he was standing with Melinda and her husband. She hesitated, taking a deep breath as she steadied her nerves. Lifting her head proudly, she walked towards her friend, determined to behave as though nothing was wrong.

  It looked as though both he and Captain Hernshaw were preparing to leave the small group, but as she approached Charles Hunter turned and saw her. His gaze narrowed, a little nerve flicking at his temple.

  ‘Belle!’ Melinda cried and darted forward to kiss her cheek. ‘How lovely you look! You know Captain Hernshaw, of course—but I do not think you are acquainted with Mr Hunter?’

  A picture of Charles lying naked in his bed, his very masculine body damp with sweat, flashed into her mind, almost slaying her confidence. However, she smiled politely and nodded her head.

  ‘I believe we have met before, Mr Hunter, though I am not sure where.’

  A flicker of appreciation showed in his eyes as he followed her lead. ‘I am sure it must have been at the house of a mutual friend, Lady Arabella. I hope you are quite well?’

  ‘Oh, yes, very well, thank you.’

  Just behind her, Tilda gasped, but prudently said nothing.

  Arabella’s heart was racing as she lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. She saw that he was smiling and for some reason her nervousness vanished as if it had never been. She was quite sure that he would neither say nor do anything that might damage her reputation.

  ‘I am glad to hear that, ma’am,’ Charles said and turned to his companion.

  ‘We had better take our places, Hernshaw, or we shall be missed.’

  ‘Yes, I believe you are right,’ Captain Hernshaw replied and smiled at Arabella. ‘Will you excuse us, ladies? No doubt we shall meet again before the evening is out.’ The two gentlemen crossed the room to where others had begun taking their seats at one of the tables set up for cards.

  ‘Belle, love,’ Melinda said. ‘I am so glad you are here.’

  ‘You saw me only yesterday,’ Arabella reminded her with a little smile. ‘But I am equally glad to see you, Mel—and you, Harry.’

  Sir Harry nodded his head. ‘The same, I’m sure, Belle,’ he said with the easy confidence of old friends. ‘You must come and stay with us in the country this autumn. Mel would love to have you.’

  ‘Yes, I should,’ Melinda agreed at once. ‘We are here until the end of next week and then we must go home—but I should be so pleased if you would come to us after you leave your aunt.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Arabella agreed. ‘Though I may stay in London a little longer than I had first thought. It depends how my aunt is feeling.’

  ‘She is not with you this evening?’

  ‘A little indisposed,’ Arabella said. ‘It may be nothing, but I shall see how she goes on.’

  Melinda nodded, tucking her arm through Arabella’s. ‘Do you wish to play cards or simply listen to the music?’

  ‘If you will excuse me, my love,’ Sir Harry said. ‘I must join my table. I shall see you at supper, ladies.’ He nodded his head to them and walked off to join his brother, Charles Hunter and another gentleman at the card tables.

  ‘Oh, I think I shall be content to listen to the music,’ Arabella said. ‘I may not stay long after supper, Mel. I am a little concerned about Aunt Hester, even though she would not hear of my staying at home this evening.’

  They settled themselves on a convenient sofa, though Tilda found herself being borne away to play cards with three elderly ladies who refused to take no for an answer. Glancing her way a little later, Arabella thought that she was enjoying herself. Since she had remarked on how delicious the dates were on their way here, it had clearly been misguided of Arabella to suspect Ralph of having deliberately given his mother something intended to make her ill. She must put such an idea from her mind at once. She decided to enjoy the music and put her doubts aside, at least for the moment. However, she could not prevent herself from occasionally glancing in the direction of the card table at which Charles Hunter was seated, and it was with a little shock that she discovered his gaze was directed at her more often than not.

  It was not until the supper interval that Arabella had a chance to speak with Charles more privately. She was standing at the long table, which was loaded with platters of delicious meats and side dishes, when she sensed someone beside her and looked to her left to see him standing there.

  ‘Lady Arabella.�
�� He inclined his head, a faint smile on his mouth.

  ‘Mr Hunter. I did not ask you earlier, but how are you now?’

  ‘Much recovered, thank you,’ Charles replied, his eyes moving over her intently. After that morning at the inn, he had intended to put her completely from his mind, but seeing her so suddenly that evening had made him very aware of her and he had found his thoughts wandering too often at the card table. She was a beautiful woman and seemed universally popular—a woman who would attract attention wherever she went. Until this moment he had not realised just how much she had risked by helping him in the way she had. ‘May I be of service to you? Fetch you a glass of champagne, perhaps?’

  ‘That would be kind of you,’ Arabella said. ‘I am sitting with my companion over there by the window. Perhaps you would be kind enough to bring a glass for Tilda too?’

  ‘Yes, certainly,’ he said. ‘Are you enjoying your visit to town, ma’am?’

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ Arabella said. She frowned slightly, for she could not quite shake off her feeling of foreboding. ‘Yes, thank you, sir.’

  ‘Is anything bothering you?’ Charles narrowed his gaze, for he sensed that she was anxious about something. ‘If I may be of assistance, I should be only too pleased. You were there when I needed help. I should be happy to return the favour if I could. And, of course, I must repay the money you spent on my behalf.’

  ‘That is not necessary, sir. But perhaps…’ Arabella hesitated. They were strangers and yet she felt that she knew him intimately, having nursed him through his fever. There was little that she had not discovered about his person—save for what had caused that deep sadness in his eyes sometimes. But how could she confess to a man that she hardly knew that she was concerned for her aunt’s safety? It was a delicate subject and not one she could speak of at an affair like this. As it happened, Captain Hernshaw hailed them at that moment and the opportunity was lost. ‘No, no, there is nothing, thank you.’