Page 36 of A Match Made in Heather

As she made her way back through the basement, voices drifted from the servants’ hall where the staff had gathered to relax before heading off to bed. Arabel slipped past the doorway, not wanting to disturb them. And not wanting to be caught.

“ . . . somethin’ ’tween ’em. An’ sharin’ more than Highburn.” Jamieson’s voice reached her. “Sharin’beds, certain o’ it.”

Arabel froze, her breath catching in her throat.

The servants were talking about her and Garrick. Heavens, theyknew! Her face flushed hot with mortification. She should have known she could never keep something like this secret, certainly not from the servants, who knew everything that went on in the house. And surely, one look at the two of them together revealed all. But for the servants to gossip . . . oh, she wanted to crawl under the nearest rock!

“Now, Mr. Jamieson,” Mrs. Stewart scolded, coming to Arabel’s defense, “ye know the lass’s history wi’ the man. She’s a stubborn one, not easily forgivin’.”

Arabel frowned. There must have been a compliment in there somewhere.

“That silver-tongued devil wit’ his charmin’ grins,” the butler countered. “Thatone could convince a nun t’ lift her skirts.”

“Och, Mr. Jamieson! With the way ye talk, God’ll strike ye down right here if’n yer not careful.”

“Kinna blame her,” one of the young maids put in, and Arabel rolled her eyes. Even the kitchen staff knew? How would she ever live this down? “If’n a man like Lord Townsend e’er looked at me how he does at her—”

“Ye’d run straight back to yer room, if ye ken what’s good fer ye,” Mrs. Stewart interrupted. Then the older woman sighed heavily. “It’s love, that’s what.”

Arabel smiled as her chest warmed. Yes, it was certainly that.

Jamieson snorted. “Ain’t on his part! ’Cept love o’ revenge.”

Her heart thudded painfully. No, Garrick had given up his revenge against her family. The servants simply didn’t know that, although they seemed to know everything else.

“All them pretty words an’ smiles are nothin’ but English deception. He don’t care a fig for the lass ’cept to get back at her family.”

Arabel stood frozen in place, holding her breath as she strained to hear over the roar of blood coursing through her ears with every pounding heartbeat.

“I heard what he said t’ his man, how he wanted revenge.”

Arabel let out a silent sigh of relief. Jamieson was wrong. Yes, Garrick had wanted vengeance when he first arrived here, but no longer.

“Said he planned t’ seduce the property ’way from th’ lass.”

Her heart skipped.Thathadn’t been part of his revenge . . . had it?

“Empty talk!” Mrs. Stewart scoffed. “You ken how them lords like t’ brag.”

“Said that havin’ her in his bed would be the perfect revenge ’gainst the Rowlands for what they did t’ him.”

Arabel’s heart stopped. All of her flashed numb. When it started again, the pain was excruciating.

A silence fell over the servants’ hall, until Mrs. Stewart broke it. “He wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“Wouldn’t he now? Also said he’d enjoy razin’ the place t’ the ground. Last I looked, the house was missin’ an entire wing, it was. How long ’fore he tears down the rest?”

Arabel squeezed her eyes shut. How long, indeed?

“But she’s done called th’ banker here,” the maid interjected. “If she an’ Townsend . . . well, why’d she want her betrothed here?”

“To call off the weddin’,” Mrs. Stewart said firmly. “So Townsend can marry her himself, as he should’ve done all them years ago.”

“Or t’ get his best revenge,” Jamieson insisted. “Seduce her into callin’ off the weddin’, then leave fer England an’ leaveherwit’ no home nor husband.”

The berry bowl fell from her hand and smashed against the stone floor. Oh, she was going to be sick!

She pressed her hand against her mouth as she fled upstairs, seeking out the refuge of her room. No, it wasn’t possible! Garrick wouldnever. . . Yet doubts swirled through her so fiercely that she could barely breathe.