“If you ask me, Miss,” Winnie said with mischief, “I think the whole thing about the mistaken identity made him feel bad. Did you see his face when the old woman called him ‘dear’? It was really hilarious.”
Arabella could not share with her maid that it was not the old woman calling him ‘dear’ that drove him away. It was she herself calling him a monster. The moment that memory came back, Arabella felt a strange sting in her heart. She had allowed anger to take over, and though she had every right on her side, she lost it by speaking to him that way.
It was not like her to permit feelings to dictate her actions before filtering them through logic. But when he touched her and kissed her, it was impossible for her to maintain any resemblance to reason.
The emotions raging in her were conflicting. First, she felt guilt for speaking to the Duke in a manner unfit for a lady. Calling someone a monster, even if they behaved despicably, was not something she had done before. And though it was high time for the Duke to have his ways criticized, this was certainly not the way to do it.
She felt betrayed by her good manners and her always cheerful disposition, even in the most difficult of times. She could have handled everything firmly, yes, but with grace.
On the other hand, the biggest traitor was her own body. It was still vibrating, alive and pulsating because of that kiss. Her lips still tingled, her pulse was racing, and heat was still pooling in areas that should have long cooled down. It was almost moronic of her to be focusing on that kiss when she was walking through the destroyed battlefield their talk had left behind.
“It was nice to see the Duke behaving so nicely,” Winnie had decided to challenge Arabella’s patience. “To be honest, I was so scared for you when I heard that he was courting you. But not only did he not comment on your appearance, but he also defended you when others did. And it was quite touching to see him behave so tenderly toward that old woman.”
“Yes, indeed,” was all Arabella could offer without screaming her lungs out in frustration.
The worst part was that Winnie was right. The Duke was an overbearing tyrant, but after the little time she spent promenading with him, she realized that she had offended a man she did not quite understand. That was unfair, to say the least.
“We are finally home,” Winnie triumphed.
Arabella did not feel that excited. And the main reason was that she saw her father waiting at the window. At first, she was afraidthat something bad had happened, but then she saw the look of anticipation on his face. Her father was waiting for her to tell him how the promenade went.
She entered the house and finally took off that ridiculous hat that added to the headache forming in her head. She was still taking off her gloves when her father appeared.
“It took you quite some while to come back,” her father commented. “Would I be correct to assume that the outing was successful?”
Arabella was so distraught that she could not even see the irony of this statement. Successful was the last word anyone would use to describe what had happened during this promenade, from the moment the Duke appeared at her doorstep till the one when she basically drove him away into the streets of London. But she was not ready to share with anyone the failure and shame that had taken place in the length of a few hours.
“Yes, Father, it was quite enjoyable,” Arabella lied through her teeth, like every lady of the ton did to survive, especially when the involvement of men made matters worse.
The look of relief that her father gave her was not the one Arabella expected. She never had the chance to talk to her father, because no one questioned the decision of a parent regarding marriage, but she never quite understood why he would so easily comply with the Duke’s demands. That relief told her that her father was not coerced into agreeing to the marriage. He was persuaded.
“I am really happy that this relationship is going well. So tell me, did you get to know the Duke better?”
The irony of this conversation just kept getting deeper. Because the correct answer to whether she had gotten to know the Duke better would have killed her father on the spot from shock. The answer, “I know what he tastes like,” was not one to be shared with one’s parents.
“Ah, I see that it is difficult for you to talk to me about this,” her father said.
For a moment, Arabella was very close to dying of shock herself, believing that somehow her father knew what had happened in the carriage and the devastation after.
“It is a conversation a girl has with her mother,” the Viscount added with a painful expression.
Arabella realized it was difficult for her father to raise two daughters after they had debuted without the support of a mother to navigate the intricacies of the ton, to protect and advise and guide.
And though Arabella was sure that even if her mother were alive, she would not talk to her about how the Duke pulled her so close to his body that she could feel every muscle rippling, she could have sought her advice on what happened after.
“I don’t want you to worry, Father. Everything is as it should be.”
Her father smiled widely again, sighing with relief. Then he looked upon her with pride and satisfaction.
“Would you care to join me in my study so we can talk a little?” He offered.
Arabella did not care to join him in his study. What she did care to do was go back to her room, take off this hideous yellow gown, go under her covers, and probably stay there for the rest of her life. Instead, she smiled widely at her father.
“Of course. There is still some time till luncheon,” she said.
She followed her father up the stairs to his study exactly like the Duke had done that fateful morning when he entered their house. It was rare for Arabella to enter her father’s study, mostly because he was not there all that much, and even if he were, that meant he conducted serious business, and the girls would only annoy him.
“Please sit.”
