A Wealthy Widow

‘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.’

Returning to her table with the food she had selected, Arabella waited for the gentlemen to join them. She noticed that Tilda was merely picking at the plate of cold chicken and green beans she had chosen.

‘Are you not hungry?’

‘Oh, no, I do not think I want very much this evening,’ Tilda replied. ‘I had two scones for tea and some of those delicious dates Lady Tate was good enough to give me.’

‘You do not feel ill, do you?’

‘Not exactly ill,’ Tilda said and pulled a face. ‘Just a little unsettled in my stomach. It is strange for I do not often suffer from dyspepsia, you know.’

Arabella nodded. It had often amazed her in the past that her companion could eat as much as she did without feeling discomfort. Once again she felt a pang of unease for her aunt. She kept remembering the look of menace in her cousin’s eyes when he had told her that she had left him no choice. Was he saying that, because Arabella would not marry him, he meant to dispose of his mother to gain what remained of her fortune?

‘No!’ she said aloud and shook her head just as the two gentlemen approached with the champagne.

‘I am sorry,’ Charles said, brows rising. ‘I believed you wished for a glass of champagne.’

‘Yes, I do,’ Arabella replied and accepted the glass with a rueful look. ‘My remark was not directed at either of you gentlemen, but at my own thoughts. I am not sure that Tilda wishes for anything. I believe she feels a little under the weather. If one of you would be kind enough to call for my carriage, I think we shall go home shortly.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Captain Hernshaw said. He looked kindly at the companion. ‘I hope you are not ill, ma’am?’

‘Oh, no, just a little discomfort,’ Tilda said, but she had gone quite pale. ‘If you will excuse me, Arabella, I must go to the retiring room for a moment.’

She got up rather quickly and went off as Captain Hernshaw departed in another direction. Charles sat down at the table, his eyes dwelling on Arabella’s face as she took a sip of her champagne.

‘I believe you are troubled in some way,’ he said. ‘I am sincere in my offer of help, Lady Arabella. You may call on me if you wish at any time and I shall do whatever I may.’ He took a card with his town address from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to her.