ANMELDEN
Edwin had made a mistake. That became painfully clear the moment he returned to Emerson Manor. He should not have teased her in the marketplace. Should not have watched her blush beneath his words. Should certainly not have admitted that roses reminded him of her. Yet despite all reason… He could not regret it. Edwin loosened his cravat as he entered the library, but the familiar quiet of the manor brought him no peace tonight. Because Arabella Rose Hamilton had somehow followed him home inside his thoughts. Again. He poured himself a drink and moved toward the tall windows overlooking the darkening hills of Craneford. Rain threatened in the distance. The countryside was calm. But Edwin’s mind was anything but. He still remembered the sight of her standing outside the bookstore earlier that afternoon. Soft curls moving gently in the wind. Pink cheeks. Wide startled eyes. Beautiful. The word returned relentlessly now. Not the polished beauty Lo
Arabella couldn't get over her encounter with Lord Emerson. She avoided the pond for three days. Not because she wished to. Because she could not survive the embarrassment of facing Lord Edwin Emerson again. Every time she remembered the moment their eyes met through the darkness, heat rushed painfully into her cheeks. God. She had watched him. Stroke his manhood. Like some scandalous woman from one of Beatrice’s forbidden novels. And worse… He knew it. Arabella groaned softly and buried her face deeper into the pillow. “You are behaving absurdly,” she muttered to herself. Yet avoiding him did nothing to quiet her thoughts. If anything, it only made them worse. She thought about him constantly now. While eating breakfast. While walking through the gardens. While brushing her hair before bed. She remembered the sound of his deep voice. The faint smile that appeared so rarely on his face. The powerful lines of his body beneath the moonlight. E
Edwin came out for a swim to clear his head, he heard footsteps or rustling behind a tree but he ignored it because he suspected it might be some animals. He pulled off his clothing and jumped into the water. Immediately the water touched his skin he felt relaxed relieving the stress of the whole day. He could have sworn Someone was watching him. Then he heard the crack of a branch. Edwin stood motionless in the water, every instinct suddenly sharpened. The night had been silent moments ago. Now he could feel another presence hidden beyond the willow trees. His dark gaze settled on the shadows near the pond’s edge. “Who is there?” he asked calmly. Silence answered him. But he had seen movement. Small. Quick. Not an animal. A person. Edwin slowly moved toward the shallower part of the pond, water rippling around his waist. He reached for the loose white shirt resting near the rocks before pulling it over his shoulders without taking his eyes off the trees.
Arabella walked around the Manor all day trying to put everything in place, This is her home now and she is determined to make it comfortable. By evening, Arabella could not find peace. She got tired of pretending she wasn't curious about Lord Emerson her next-door neighbor. No matter what she did, her thoughts returned to Lord Edwin Emerson. The memory of him on horseback haunted her relentlessly. The dark intensity of his eyes. The calm strength in his voice. The way he had looked directly at her—as though he truly saw her. No man had ever looked at Arabella that way before. Certainly not with interest. Her late husband had looked at her with duty. Society looked at her with pity. She had heard people whisper. “ Such a shame a pretty face but she is too fat.” “She needs to slim down if not all that beauty would go to waste because no man wants a fat wife.” At balls, most men had run away from her like a plague. But Edwin Emerson… He had looked at her wit
The journey to Craneford took nearly two days. By the time Arabella’s carriage rolled through the countryside roads, every part of her body ached from exhaustion. Endless hills stretched beneath gray autumn skies while cold wind rattled against the carriage windows. London already felt far away. Good, she thought bitterly. Let society forget me entirely. She sat quietly wrapped in a dark wool cloak, staring blankly at the passing landscape. Villages became fewer the farther north they traveled. Large estates disappeared, replaced by forests, rivers, and lonely open fields brushed gold by autumn. Everything felt quieter here. Sadder somehow. The carriage finally slowed near sunset. “We’ve arrived, my lady,” the driver called. Arabella straightened slowly before peering through the window. A large stone manor stood at the top of a small hill surrounded by dying rose gardens and tall overgrown hedges. Smoke drifted weakly from only two chimneys. The Craneford es
Rain poured heavily over London the morning Arabella returned home. The carriage wheels rattled across wet stone streets while gray clouds stretched endlessly above the city. Everything beyond the fogged windows looked cold and blurred, as though the world itself wished not to see her. Arabella Rose Hamilton sat motionless inside the carriage with her gloved hands tightly held together. Widow. The word still felt unreal. Three weeks ago, she had been Lady Grant Ashcombe. Now she was nothing. No husband. No child. No home. Just a burden once again being delivered back to her parents like unwanted luggage. The carriage finally slowed before the grand Hamilton townhouse. Tall iron gates stood open while servants hurried through the rain carrying umbrellas. Arabella stared at the familiar home with quiet dread. She had once dreamed of escaping this place. Instead, she had returned more humiliated than before. The footman opened the carriage door carefully.







