Eleanor’s gaze sharpened. “What news?”
Norman looked pleased by the question. “I have found the perfect match for Arabella.”
James felt Eleanor go rigid beside him.
Arabella’s eyes lowered.
Norman continued as if he had not noticed either reaction. “The gentleman will arrive in two days’ time. He intends to make a formal offer.”
Eleanor’s voice was controlled. “A formal offer of what?”
Norman lifted his chin. “Her hand.”
Silence fell.
Charlotte clasped her hands dramatically. “We shall have such a wedding.”
Arabella’s jaw tightened.
James watched Eleanor’s face. He saw the moment she understood. Not guessed. Understood.
“What is his name?” Eleanor asked.
Norman waved a hand. “His name is irrelevant. What matters is his station.”
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. “His station?”
Norman smiled broadly. “A marquess.”
Charlotte added brightly, “A very wealthy marquess.”
Eleanor’s voice stayed calm, but James could hear the edge beneath it. “And why is he interested in Arabella?”
Norman’s smile sharpened. “Because she is beautiful, accomplished, and connected.”
Connected. James almost laughed. Norman was still trying to sell what he had already devalued for years.
Eleanor lifted her chin. “How old is he?”
Norman’s smile faltered for the first time. “Age is not the point.”
“It is a point,” Eleanor replied.
Norman’s tone became more defensive. “He is established. He owns land. He has a title above ours. Arabella will never receive a better offer.”
James stepped forward slightly. “How old is he?”
Norman looked annoyed that the question had come from James. “Your Grace, surely you understand that a man’s maturity is an advantage.”
James’s voice remained even. “Answer the question.”
Charlotte laughed lightly. “Oh, really, must we dwell on it? Arabella is fortunate. Everyone knows it.”
Eleanor turned slightly toward Charlotte. “Do you know his age?”
Charlotte shrugged. “He is older. That is all.”
Eleanor’s eyes flashed. “Older than what? Older than Arabella? Older than Father?”
