Vicar's Daughter to Viscount's Lady by Louise Allen Read Free Book Online Page A

every iota of common sense or judgement in the relationship as they did with Rafe.
    He suspected that Arabella Shelley was not unintelligent, simply ashamed, frightened and confused. She was also angry with him, whether she acknowledged it or not. He was alive and standing in the place of the man she wanted to confront and force to acknowledge his responsibilities.
    She had not known Rafe at all or she would never have fallen for him—she was not the sort of woman who wanted to flirt with danger. It hurt to acknowledge it, but Rafe had been a vicious, debauched, scheming rake who hid his true nature under a mask of charm when it suited him. And that charm had obviously deceived her all too well, for Elliott doubted that Arabella realised just how fortunate she had been. What if Rafe had lured her away to London and then abandoned her? It did not bear thinking about.
    Best to put it behind them if they could. He was to be married and he had better accept it and move on from there as he hoped Arabella would.
    He had never expected to find love in marriage, he thought as he stared unseeing out of the carriage window at the unweeded drive. He supposed he had that in common with most men of his class. But neither had he expected to take a wife who was not a virgin, one who was carrying someone else’s child. They would have to become accustomed to that, somehow. It would be like wedding a widow virtually from her husband’s open graveside.
    He grimaced at the macabre image. He must thinkpositively. Surely Arabella would recover soon enough from the shattering of her infatuation with Rafe and the cruel realisation that she had been deceived. They could put it behind them and build a marriage based on reality.
    It was, after all, time he settled down. He was thirty now. That had come as something of a shock. He had been teasing a small group of giggling young ladies at Almack’s in March and had suddenly realised just how young they were. He could not go on flirting for ever, dodging the matchmaking mamas.
    In the past few months he had begun to identify suitable young ladies who would make eligible brides and he had accepted an invitation to the Framlinghams’ house party that would have given him time with a number of them, including Lady Frederica Framlingham.
    Frederica was charming, assured and pretty. He suspected she would not be averse to an offer from him. Under the circumstances it was fortunate that the funeral, and then all the work he had found himself dealing with, had taken him from Town close to the end of the Season and before the house party convened and he could commit himself with Frederica.
    The timing might work out well. Arabella would have until February to become used to her new role, to give birth and to prepare to make her dèbut next Season. Elliott pulled out his notebook and jotted a note to have the Town house refurbished. The front door opened. He pulled out his watch: on the stroke of eight. His betrothed was prompt.

Chapter Four
    ‘ G ood morning, Elliott.’ The footman helped Arabella in and he studied her face as she settled herself opposite him.
    ‘Good morning. Did you sleep well?’ She was pale and pinched and there were dark shadows under her eyes, which were bloodshot. He had never demanded beauty in his women, but he had expected a certain level of attractiveness. Miss Shelley was quite right, she was certainly plain. The image of Freddie Framlingham, pink cheeked, blue eyed, vivacious, flashed into his mind. Virginal, uncomplicated, good-natured Freddie.
    ‘Thank you, yes.’
    Elliott knew that was a polite lie. She must have spent most of the night worrying. ‘Excellent.’ There was no point in telling her just how ill she looked. ‘There is Madeira wine and some dry biscuits in that basket.’
    ‘How thoughtful.’ The fleeting smile was a revelation. He stared at her; Miss Shelley, it seemed, was not quite so plain after all. Then the animation faded and oncemore she was