“Mary?” Offended he would tell such a lie, that he would make light what had happened, Arabella grit her teeth. “Mary cannot speak.”
“She can. She did. The entirety of your household was greatly concerned the doctor might see me in your company. Even after your housekeeper begged me to find you, Magdala pressed me to leave. Payne took you from me!” Gregory’s false smile faded to rancor. “I initially refused, yet retreated in order to protect your precious, sterling reputation when even the mute found a voice to force me out.”
Arabella wiped a hand across her face, eyes squeezed shut. “You do not understand...”
The subtle clatter of porcelain silenced Arabella, the baroness glancing up to find Mr. Harrow’s kitchen maid entering with a tray. The burden was set on a nearby table.
Recognizing the baroness, the old woman hesitated.
The baroness had acted poorly enough last time. There was no need to repeat the debacle. “Please pour.” Arabella offered a smile. “I take my tea the same as your master.”
It gratified the servant. “Yes, your ladyship.”
Tea was served and as the old woman went to leave, Gregory’s cocky, false pleasantness oozed from of his lips, “Lady Iliffe will be joining me for supper, Hannah. She has been unwell... a rich stew, I believe, is acceptable.”
Black eyes locked onto emerald green and with an arrogant sneer, Gregory dared her to argue.
Arabella held her tongue.
The old woman stood dumbstruck, then muttered a quick, “Yes, sir,” fleeing into the kitchen before Mr. Harrow might growl.
Teacup at her lips, mirroring his movements, Arabella measured her host over the rim and sipped. One swallow and warmth seeped into chilled bones. A comforted sigh, another sip of tea, and weariness made her eyes heavy.
“My love, do you wish for more tea?” Gregory simpered.
Short-lived peace shattered, she snarled, “Stop calling me that!”
Exaggerating pronunciation, Gregory’s tongue flicked the edge of his teeth, biting his lower lip to extend the word. “My Loooooovvve.”
It took everything in her power not dash her teacup against the wall. “Do not torment me, Gregory. I am tormented enough without you.”
“Tormented enough without me... What interesting phrasing.” He raised his eyebrows and sipped his tea.
Moving to stand, Arabella spat, “I should not have come here.”
He was on her in an instant. Hands firm on her shoulders, he pressed her down into the softness of her seat. She struggled, so he took another approach. Kneeling, he placed his head in her lap.
He clutched at her legs, signifying that he would not be moved should she try.
“Please.”
Unsure if she had spoken the entreaty, or he had, all Arabella knew was that her hands fell to his hair and ran through the silken darkness.
They both grew still.
Long minutes passed before a deep breath stretched the fabric of his jacket. Gregory looked up, black eyes unassuming. It was the openness of his expression that drew the feather-light touch of her fingertips to trace the angles of his jaw. He captured that hand pressed it to his cheek, closing his eyes and holding to her.
His lips turned towards her palm where he might kiss it and murmur, “My love.”
“Do not rail at me today, Gregory,” Arabella entreated in a whisper. “No threats or bursts of temper. No games.” Her fingertips came to his lips and pressed them to silence. “I cannot bear it.”
He began to toy with her braid, using her captured hair to pull her mouth closer for a kiss. “Yet you seek my company knowing I will misbehave.”
“Your company pleases me... on occasion.” Arabella could not help but smile at his petulance. “The remainder of the time I am trying not to throw things at your head.”
The man’s voice was hoarse. “If you understood even half of the control I exercise in your presence, you would cease your teasing and kiss me instead.”
“So the devil wishes for a kiss, does he?” Arabella leaned closer until the softness of her lips almost brushed his. “Is that all it takes to pacify him?”