Oswald looked at his daughter in total disbelief.
“If you ask me,” Arabella continued, looking at her sister, “it is the exact lack of a husband that warrants that cheerful disposition.”
Bridget gave her sister a small, faint smile. Arabella nodded reassuringly.
“Nonsense,” their father broke the moment. “You, Arabella, are quite cheerful, and now you will be a Duchess. And I am confident that you will not lose that lovely disposition once married.”
The smile soured on Arabella’s lips. Not if she was married to the Duke of Albury. She had the notion that he would find creative ways to snuff the light out of her and watch it flicker in glee.
“Bridget, you should watch your younger sister more closely. At such ya oung age, she is on the board of two ladies’ organizations, she is the first name on every guest list of every single event in London, and among her friends, there are also members of the royal family. And you? What do you have to show for?”
Arabella’s jaw tightened. No matter what, her father insisted on comparing her with her sister constantly. He has been doing the same thing for ages. Ever since Arabella debuted, it was the same. In the eyes of their father, Arabella was the epitome of what a lady should be, while Bridget had only her shortcomings pointed out.
It was no wonder that after dinner, Bridget excused herself in a hurry, declining to join her family for tea. Arabella was ready to follow her, needing to be near her sister. But she didn’t get the chance.
“Arabella, a moment,” her father suggested.
They settled in the drawing room, the two of them, for a while just drinking their tea. Arabella knew what her father wanted to talk to her about, so she waited.
“Arabella,” he set his cup on its saucer, “I wanted a moment alone.”
“Is something the matter, Father? Apart from the fact that our household was hit by a storm this morning?”
Her father chuckled, and his shoulders relaxed. Arabella couldn’t even imagine how hard it must have been for him to lose her mother and be left with two young girls to raise on his own.
“I wanted to talk to you exactly about that… storm.”
Arabella tightened her hold on her own cup. She was actually on point comparing the Duke to a storm. He came in without a warning, swept the whole house off its foundation, and unapologetically rearranged everything, mostly by destroying what lay there before.
“The Duke of Albury is a very powerful man,” her father started, his body sagging a little, perhaps regretting the jest that opened the door to a merciless man. “He has great wealth that buys him influence. He may not be a revered member of the ton, but no one, and I do mean no one, dares go against him.”
Arabella’s mind went straight to this very room, just hours earlier, when she did exactly that. She stood her ground against this infamous brute, and she came out the other side unscathed and victorious.
Well, if she were to be completely honest with herself, neither is true. Yes, the Duke agreed to her terms, yet she was under the impression that he did the same way one indulges a child. As for unscathed… Maybe there was no visible mark, yet Arabella could still feel the claim he laid on her skin, his lips on-
“I know you are a very clever girl,” her father’s voice brought her back. “But I also know you can be very opinionated.”
“I think you meant to say confident, Father.”
Her father gave her a reprimanding look that held no real consequence.
“You are a principled young lady, and I wouldn’t want you any other way. However,” his voice became solemn, “the Duke is…”
Obnoxious? Arrogant? Insufferable?Arabella kept her face impassive while her mind offered so many alternatives regarding the Duke’s amicable personality.
“The Duke is dangerous,” her father finally settled on a word.
That too.
“I saw how you talked to him, and though I admire your courage,” her father said, “I think it would be best, regarding the Duke, to have a more diplomatic approach.”
Arabella kept her soft smile on while she translated the same requirement that everyone had of the young ladies of the ton. Be witty but not too much. Her father just added“not bruise his ego”in the appendix.
“I am terribly sorry that a jest I made with a friend years ago would come and terrorize my daughters.”
“It is certainly not your fault, Father. You made a joke, and the Duke decided to make it a bargaining chip.”
Her father nodded.
