Free In the Shadow of Arabella by Lois Menzel

yet another dark blue ribbon caught up under the breast. It was a lovely gown, but Rudley was not in a mood to admire it, for his brain was in sudden and somewhat surprising turmoil. None of his thoughts, however, sounded in his voice or showed in his expression as he greeted them.
    “Good evening, Miss Stillwell.” With a nod to her companion he added, “Witford.” Returning his gaze to Katherine, he asked, “May I have the honor of this dance, ma’am?”
    “Of course, my lord.” She inclined her head toward Witford, who nodded in return, then laid her hand on the earl’s arm and moved away with him toward the dancing.
    They executed the early part of the dance in silence until Katherine remarked, “You are quite late this evening, Lord Rudley.”
    “In truth, I have been here for some time, but you were, of course, engaged with Witford.” He spoke quietly but his tone was brusque and Katherine looked up in surprise as he added, “Any young lady who truly values her reputation would not spend half an hour in the company of a rake such as Witford.’’
    “Come now, my lord,” she objected. “Surely if my reputation can survive numerous hours of riding in your company, it will withstand thirty minutes of conversation on a rather crowded and well-lighted balcony with Lord Witford.”
    “ Touché! ”the earl replied as the steps of the dance separated them. When they came together again, Katherine found that Rudley was not ready to quit the subject. “Heed me,” he continued. “The man is no fit companion for you.”
    “I hesitate to disagree with you, sir,” she protested, “but his lordship has done nothing improper. Quite the contrary, in fact. He has made me a most ‘proper’ offer of marriage.”
    This communication so startled the earl that he missed his step. “The devil he has!”
    “Indeed he has, my lord,” she insisted, “and for the second time in four days!”
    His frown intensified as he asked, “And have you accepted him?” The dance was ending, and now it was Rudley’s turn to draw Katherine away. As they moved away from the crowded rooms, he led her down a narrow passageway and a flight of stairs toward the conservatory. As the crowd around them thinned, he repeated his question impatiently. “Have you accepted him?”
    “No, my lord, I have not,” she replied testily.
    “Will you?”
    “I don’t know. Perhaps. At first I did not believe him to be sincere, although he assures me that he is. He is also most persistent.”
    “I believe I know why,” the earl replied. “Witford has buried two wives already and has no sons. No doubt he has perused the eligible young ladies and chosen you as the best brood mare of the lot.”
    This comment stopped Katherine in her tracks, and she turned disbelieving, angry eyes to him. “You are insulting, my lord,” she said.
    “I am truthful, Katherine,” he replied, using her Christian name, “and that I thought you, of all people, would appreciate. How can you even consider an alliance with a notorious womanizer, a man old enough to be your father? You cannot possibly think to find happiness there!”
    “My happiness is not the issue here, my lord,” she replied tartly. “Rather, it is my opportunity to have position and independence, to be able to provide a proper home for my sister. I would be foolish indeed if I did not at least consider such a chance to establish myself. Ask any of your friends here tonight,” she challenged. “You will not find one in ten who would not think me fortunate to receive such an offer.”
    “I daresay you are right,” he agreed ruefully. “But I did not think you the person to accept a man like Witford only because society in general would approve it.”
    “Nor did I ever think to do so,” she agreed, “but I am beginning to change my mind.”
    “Why?” They had been walking slowly through the narrow aisles of the conservatory. The air was humid and heavy with the combined odor of