“And how do they appear?”
She gestured toward the ballroom beyond the walls.
“Your new duchess plays her part beautifully,” she said. “Graceful. Composed. Very quiet.”
Nathaniel’s expression cooled further.
“She is more than capable.”
“I do not doubt it.”
“Then choose your next words carefully.”
Arabella smiled faintly at the warning.
“You vanish for hours,” she continued. “You return late. You leave her alone among strangers while the rest of us watch.”
“And what exactly are you implying?”
“That marriages built on practicality rarely inspire loyalty,” she said.
Nathaniel took a slow step toward her.
“Margaret’s loyalty is not in question.”
“Perhaps not hers,” Arabella said.
The suggestion hung in the air. Arabella studied him again, as though recalculating.
“Your wife deserves certainty,” she said. “And yet you give her distance.”
“That observation would carry more weight if it came from someone concerned with her welfare.”
Arabella laughed softly. Nathaniel hated that she was right, but he had changed. He planned to give Margaret everything she ever could have wanted. The sooner he was able to leave Miss Vaughn behind, the sooner he could begin to feel better about what had happened before he had met his wife.
“You always did see through me eventually,” she laughed.
“And you always underestimated how quickly I did.”
She folded her arms loosely.
“You could resolve all this very easily,” she said.
“How?”
“By reminding society that you are still a man capable of discretion.”
Nathaniel held her gaze, unimpressed.
“I imagine,” Arabella said coolly, “that your marriage is more fragile than you pretend.”
Nathaniel stepped closer now, close enough that she had to tilt her head to maintain eye contact.
“My marriage,” he said quietly, “is not your concern.”
“But theton–”
“Theton,” he interrupted calmly, “will believe exactly what I show them. I am their duke. They will bend to my will, and they will certainly believe me over you.”
