The Officer's Temptation | A Regency Romance

Chapter Three: A Summer Storm

A week and a half after his tryst with Arabella in the woods, Marlowe was sitting down to breakfast with his mother and father. The light filtering in through the tall, rounded windows was dim and leaden, which Marlowe thought was an appropriate setting for his mood. He unhappily served himself some toast and coffee, staring into the black liquid as his mother prattled on about some fabric pattern she had seen in the shops that morning.

The coffee was hot and scalded his throat, but it did help clear his mind. He had been awake for a few hours already and gone for a ride along the property line. He had done so daily since he had last seen Arabella there, but no matter how he longed for it, she had not appeared.

His father was flipping through the newspaper. "I do believe we're in for quite the downpour today," he mentioned offhandedly. "The leg's been twinging. You won't be able to take your afternoon ride, Marlowe."

Marlowe had always disbelieved that his father's leg-- which had sustained some injury decades ago-- was capable of telling the weather. But since his own injury to his hand... well, perhaps it did feel a bit stiffer than usual today. He wondered if his perspective of the matter was only further clouded by his bleak mood, which was worsening now that he was beginning to despair of ever seeing Arabella again. He worried. Had she had said something untoward to her husband? Would Lord Nicholas Balfrey come to his door any day now, demanding that he satisfy the slight against his wife's honor?

His thoughts dispelled as a footman arrived carrying the morning's correspondence on a silver tray. There was nothing for him. He tried not to let his disappointment show and took a long drink from his cup, on which he almost choked when his mother made a high pitched squeal.

"Oh, Dearest!" she said, turning to Marlowe's father, "we have just received the most exciting invitation!"

His father's head peaked over the corner of the paper. "Oh?"

Marlowe frowned at his mother. "It had best warrant your reaction, Mother," he chided. "I nearly drowned myself in coffee." Still, he placed his hands flat against his thighs under the table so that they could not betray his excitement. Beneath his irritated exterior, his heart had begun to race.

His mother gave him a sharp look of reprimand and then presented the card so that they could read it. "We've been invited to Hartsthrone Hall for dinner tomorrow evening. Lord Balfrey has indeed returned, and written that he looks forward to renewing his acquaintance with our family and making introductions to his wife. How lovely!"

There was a rustling of papers as his father turned a page. "That is lovely, my dear, but you do seem rather excited for a simple dinner engagement."

Ah yes, well, it says that Lord and Lady Keating will be there as well."

"The Duke and Duchess!" his father's voice was a low sound of approval. "I say!"

"Indeed!" his mother smiled, setting aside the card. "And I forgot to mention the best part. The Jennings family has also been afforded an invitation."

"You don't say! I didn't know that Lord Balfrey was acquainted with the Jennings."

"They did mention it once, Dearest. I believe that they met in London. During Miss Jenning's first season."

"Ah yes," his father rumbled. "Yes, now I recall. Well, I daresay we will accept?"

"Indeed! I shall send our note straightaway. Marlowe, I suppose it is not too much to hope that you will not make too much of a grump of yourself?"

Marlowe glanced out the window and fought to keep his voice cool and detached. "On the contrary, Mother. I am most pleased. Did you not tell me that I would do well to pursue some new friendships?"