“You have not heard from Arabella?” he asked.
Eleanor’s gaze flicked to him. “Not in three days.”
James frowned. “That is unlike her.”
“Yes,” Eleanor said quietly. “Which is why I am anxious.”
James reached across the space and brushed his knuckles lightly over her gloved hand. “If something were wrong, she would send word.”
Eleanor’s mouth tightened. “Unless she was prevented.”
James did not like the way her voice steadied on that last word. It suggested she had already suspected what he was beginning to understand.
“Your father sent the invitation himself,” James said. “He said he had news.”
Eleanor gave a humorless smile. “My father always has news when he wants something.”
James did not argue.
The carriage slowed as they approached the townhouse. A footman opened the door, the foyer bright and overly formal, as if Norman Barker believed grandeur could disguise his sins.
Norman himself waited in the drawing room.
So did Charlotte.
So did Arabella.
James’s attention went to Arabella first.
She looked well enough, color returned to her cheeks, her bruising nearly faded. But her expression was carefully controlled. She stood near the window with her hands clasped tightly before her, as if she had been instructed not to sit.
Her eyes met Eleanor’s, and the smallest shift in her expression told James everything.
Arabella had not been silent by choice.
Eleanor approached at once. “Arabella.”
Arabella stepped forward and embraced her sister quickly, almost fiercely. “I am glad you came.”
Eleanor pulled back slightly. “Why have you not written?”
Arabella’s gaze flicked to Norman, then back. “It has been difficult.”
Norman cleared his throat.
James turned to him, the irritation in his chest sharpening into something colder. Norman Barker wore a satisfied expression, the kind of expression a man wore when he believed he had regained control of a situation.
“Duke of Langford,” Norman said, voice oily with attempted warmth. “Duchess.”
James inclined his head, polite and distant. “St. George.”
Norman’s mouth tightened briefly at the coolness, then he smiled again as if it was all a game he intended to win.
“I have called you here,” Norman announced, “because I have excellent news.”
Charlotte beamed. “It is splendid.”
Arabella did not beam.
