Adam and his brother both came up to her now. Adam gave her a charming smile. "You simply cannot refuse to dance with us. We shall be heart-broken."
She looked at the two tall, dark-haired young men, and managed a brave smile back. She wondered how it was possible that three men who were so similar at first glance, with their dark hair and eyes, could be so completely different. Blake was head and shoulders above her cousins. And not just because he was the tallest of the three men. He was intelligent, kind, perceptive…
But Adam and Oliver were young. There was plenty of time for them to transform themselves into respectable and sober men of sense, tame the wild streak that she glimpsed in them every so often, and some of the more racy things they said.
After all, Blake had been twenty once, and look what trouble he had nearly got himself into with the odious Stanton woman. He had been engaged to her, for pity's sake. He had known what she was like, and yet still stood by her, been willing to marry her.
Well, she was not going to let Blake's peccadilloes spoil her good time. He had told her that he was her guardian, plain and simple. That there was all there was to their relationship, and all there ever could be. Arabella just had to move on. Find happiness with someone who could truly love her, not someone who would be torn between the two women he had always wanted and needed.
She gave a small sigh, took her leave of the Elthams and Alistair, and offered her hand to Oliver. "It's your turn."
Philip Marshall watched like a hawk, but said nothing. There would be time enough later….
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Blake glowered in the corner of the coach as Leonore thanked him for the tenth time for taking her home.
"I've told you, it's on my way."
"We both know it isn't, Blake," she said in a sultry purr.
"Pardon? I'm heading to the clinic, not my home."
"You can say that, but I know the truth."
He shook his head. The carriage pulled up in front of the small white house a short time later.
"This is your door, I believe, your address. Forgive me if I don't help you down and see you to the door myself, but I have an emergency at the clinic."
"Oh, that was just my little way of getting you out of Lady Pemberton's without you having to make excuses to that adorable little child."
"Pardon me? You mean I've been half out of my mind with worry for no reason? That this note was a fake?" he gasped, turning red with anger.
"Note? What note?" she asked, at a loss for once.
He sighed in exasperation. Holding onto his temper by a thread, Blake said, "Please, understand this once and for all, so that there can be no mistake. I don't love you, Leonore. I don't want to have anything more to do with you.
"And don't say it is Arabella's fault, for I stopped visiting you long before she came into my life. I know you have other men, and can have even more if that's what you want. Just not me."
"But darling--"
He ignored the interruption. "Six years may seem like a long time to you, but it's been nothing more than a flicker for me, a handful of nights of desperation on my part when I was living here in London, or was home from the war. You're a clever woman, attractive in your own way.
"But to say the plain truth, I do not even like you very much. You're ultimately cold and vindictive. You use your body as a carpenter would his tools. There's no warmth, passion, generosity of spirit, tenderness in what you and I shared."
"But Blake, I can--"
"I was a piece of flesh for you. You were an outlet for me. I thank you for relieving me of my virginity, but I wish I could have had a warmer woman to share my bed. Someone who was not interested only in her own pleasure and interests. If we do happen to run into each other again, just cut me, would you? Pretend we've never met."
Leonore raised her hand to slap him.
Blake grasped her arm before she could strike and helped her down from the carriage.
He got back into the coach and told the driver to head to the clinic.
Leonore cursed and shouted, but the vehicle was already moving and he soon left the harpy behind. She might have been trying to entrap him, but that note must have come from somewhere.
His colleague Dr. Herriot was in a frenzy when he arrived.
"Thank God you're here. I'm really sorry I had to send for you. I didn't know what to do. We found her several hours ago in an alley, dumped like a piece of rubbish. She's in a bad way, Blake. Truth to tell, I've never seen anything like it. I've tried everything, but she's in agony."
Blake did a quick examination of the writhing woman and tried to tamp down his mounting horror. The bruises all over her face and breasts and stomach were fearsome enough, but they would heal in time. No, it was the ragged flash between her thighs which was so awful.