“Perhaps you will have more than my freedom.” She hissed.
“Your freedom?” The Duke insisted.
“You are forcing me to marry you when I told you I didn’t want to,” she said and straightened her spine. “But this mattered little to you. You saw something that fit your plans, and you simply strolled in and claimed it.”
His look turned icy cold.
“Your father-”
“My father had no choice! You are the Duke of Albury! The richest under the royal family and feared across the ton. If he declined the offer, you would annihilate our family.”
“You don’t know-”
“Oh, I know. I know you very well. You think the world belongs to you, that you have every right to dominate others and terrorize them into submission unpunished.”
The Duke regarded her with a stony look, as if he raised a wall to her accusations. Of course, he did. Her words were meaningless, had no consequence on his decision. He walked in with a ridiculous paper, and he decided that it held the weight he threw behind it.
“You didn’t even hesitate to threaten my sister to have me submit to you,” she accused. “You saw a fragile girl, and your instinct was to use her as a tool.”
His lips tightened, his hands rolled into fists, but he kept looking at her without saying anything.
“You truly are a ruthless monster. No wonder you had to threaten a bride to take you. What woman in her right mind would marry you?”
“A monster,” he repeated coldly.
“I would never marry you! I don’t want to marry you.”
The Duke leaned back, and his chin lifted as if she had taken an actual blow to him. His jaw ticked, his teeth ground together.
“I see,” he delivered with no emotion. “You have made your opinions clear.”
He inhaled as if dealing with something annoying and straightened his jacket and cufflinks.
“If that is the case,” he adjusted his gloves, “you can rest assured. You are no longer attached to me. I will revoke the marriage license.”
She looked at him, dumbfounded. She watched as he took his hat and his cane. He gracefully exited the carriage. Stood there at the open door with his back to her.
“Have a pleasant afternoon, Miss Arabella,” he said, looking over his shoulder, “You are free.”
And he left. Leaving Arabella in a wrecked emotional battlefield. Victorious. Her final assault did exactly what she set out to do. She was free. Then why did she feel as if she was defeated?
CHAPTER 9
Tragic Ironies
“Ireally hope that lady would be quite fine,” Winnie said on the ride back.
Arabella tried to look invested in the matter and vaguely nodded. The old woman had seemingly lived a happy marriage, if she were to judge by the loving way she addressed the Duke when she thought he was her beloved Peter.
“She was such a lovely lady,” Winnie persisted. “It’s a pity that she seemed so confused.”
Arabella tried to show empathy, but it was difficult to deal with other people’s problems when she had bigger ones of her own.
“I wouldn’t think,” Winnie went on, “that the Duke would make such a hasty exit.”
Upon hearing his name mentioned, Arabella’s whole body went stiff.
“Yes,” Arabella lied, “he said that he had previous obligations and that he didn’t expect the promenade to take this long.”
