“Miss Barker,” James said, his voice was dangerously low.
Charlotte’s smile faltered slightly. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“You are no longer welcome in this house,” James said calmly, “as you have been warned before of how you address the Duchess of Langford previously. It seems you still cannot do so with respect.”
The room went utterly silent.
Charlotte stared. “I beg your pardon?”
“Am I to understand that you have lost your hearing in the last few seconds that have passed?” James replied.
Norman’s face tightened. “Your Grace, surely–”
James’s gaze cut to Norman. “Lord St. George, you will not correct me in my own home.”
Norman’s mouth opened, then closed again.
Charlotte’s cheeks flushed, then went pale. She forced a laugh. “It was only a–”
“It was a deliberate insult,” James said, his patience clearly wearing thin.
Eleanor’s throat tightened, but she kept her face composed, as though this was merely another social correction, not a rescue.
Arabella’s eyes were wide, fixed on James as though she could not quite believe what she was witnessing.
Charlotte rose stiffly, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted her gloves. “Very well. If I am not welcome. Father?”
Norman stood too, quickly, his posture rigid. “We will take our leave.”
Arabella hesitated, looking to Eleanor with a pleading softness. Eleanor rose and crossed to her sister, taking her hands again.
“I will see you soon, Arabella,” Eleanor said quietly.
Arabella’s voice wavered. “Will you?”
“Yes,” Eleanor replied. Then, because she had made her decision the moment Frances mentioned it, she added, “You will attend the first ball of the Season with us. As it will bemyball.”
Arabella blinked. “We will?”
“Youwill,” Eleanor confirmed. “With us.”
Arabella’s breath caught. “El–”
“I am your sister,” Eleanor said simply. “And the Duchess of Langford. You will join us.”
Arabella’s eyes shone. “Thank you.”
Charlotte, hovering near the door, watched them with a look that promised this was not finished.
Norman’s gaze flicked over Eleanor with a mixture of resentment and calculation. “Your Grace.”
Eleanor inclined her head. “Lord St. George.”
As the door closed behind them and the house fell quiet again, Eleanor remained standing with Arabella’s warmth still lingering on her hands like a blessing.
And beside her, James stood very still, as though he had just drawn a line in the sand – and was fully prepared to defend it.
CHAPTER 17
