She stared at him. "Is such a thing possible?" she asked quietly, testing his convictions.
"It is. I will teach you, Miss Neville, make it possible for you to stand on your own two feet. We will see the solicitors to draw up the papers, and open a protected bank account in your name only for the dividends. I do not want to ever be accused of profiting from my guardianship of you. All too often young ladies lose their fortunes through the peculation of unscrupulous relatives. I would have your position and my character unimpeachable."
"Very well. It will give us something to work towards in terms of my education and reform. What do we do now?"
He sighed. "I don't know. It's New Year's Eve. Dinner is ready. I am supposed to go to Lady Pemberton's, but do not wish to leave you here alone, since your holidays must have been pretty wretched what with one thing and another. Peter says to kiss your hand for him. You did get your presents, did you not?"
"Yes, indeed. They were wonderful. More than generous. The pearls are exquisite," she said with a warm smile.
He laughed shortly. "I had hoped to give you presents you would grow into. The joke is on me."
"They're wonderful, and exceedingly thoughtful."
He saw the sincerity in her smile, and relaxed. "If you're feeling up to it, shall we go in to dinner?"
She twisted her lips into a grimace. "I'm not terribly hungry, what with all the excitement and upset, but I will accompany you at any rate."
The word ‘accompany' gave him an idea. But no-it was too absurd, and would be courting disaster.
He managed to get through the soup without choking or making any inappropriate remarks.
They had just been served the fish course when he said, "Travis tells me that you were shopping today. You didn't by any chance happen to purchase a ball gown, did you?"
"I did, when I first arrived. A few of them, but one particularly lovely frock. Dreadfully frivolous of me I know, but it was so superb-" She stopped and stared at his waistcoat. Black with silver embroidery. His cravat was the same.
"Good. Therefore we have a choice, Miss Neville. We either both stay home and have a peaceful evening settling you into your new home, or we run the gauntlet of the Ton and introduce you at Lady Pemberton's as my ward."
"Are you sure you want to-"
"I would not be asking you otherwise," he said with some asperity.
"What time are you supposed to be there?"
"About seven, though she did ask me to come early to see about the wines for her. It's a hobby of mine, you see."
"In that case you cannot disappoint her." She rose and placed her napkin on the table. "I shall be down shortly."
"No hurry, my dear," he said with a wave of his hand, turning his attention to his mail so he did not have to look at her lovely face. "I have a great deal of correspondence to catch up on, and as I have said, seven will be fine if you need time to get ready, have a bath and such."
He was convinced he would not see her for two hours at least, and hoped he would have regained some degree of equanimity by then. He still didn't know what on earth to make of this astonishing turn of events.
Blake was even more stunned when Arabella returned ten minutes later, not least because it had taken her so little time to get ready. She was easily the most superb woman he had ever seen in his life.
The gown fit her to perfection, the black and silver embroidery on the neckline, hem and sleeves, which were tied with black satin ribbons, making the dress completely unique. She wore long black gloves above the elbow, held in place with black sleeve garters. The gauzy shawl both concealed and enhanced her generous bosom, and the jet choker, ear bobs and bracelets rendered the outfit complete.
She had dressed her hair a la Grecque, with silver ribbons through her glossy black hair, the curls piled up at the back and hanging down in elegant ringlets almost to her waist. He had all to do not to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.
"Have you got a cloak or pelisse?" he managed to mumble, still tongue-tied by her awesome beauty.
She nodded, showing him the black velvet garment draped in the crook of her elbow. "A pelisse."
"Reticule, fan?"
She showed him her wrist. "All here."
Blake gave her a tight smile. "In that case, we might as well take Lady Pemberton's by storm."
He offered his arm, and told himself that in no circumstances was he to think of her as anything other than his friend's sister and thus not even to be contemplated as a desirable woman.
Once again, he berated himself over what a fool he had been at the inn, all he had lost due to his self-righteous indignation.