“And that was the effect I was going for,” Arabella smirked.
He shook his head, mostly to contain his reaction, but his lips were already twitching up. If he were a more superstitious man, he would believe that Arabella had some witchcraft in her, because she had the ability to pull him out of his darker places.
“If that was the effect you were going for, Your Grace,” he teased, “then I must share some of the credit, since I am the one who ordered the dress.”
“And I hope it was an investment that will return an interest,” she replied.
“Well, Your Grace,” he said and took her gloved hand for a kiss, “you can consider me interested.”
They went into the carriage and drove to London. His family was currently residing in the townhouse that his family owned in Mayfair. He had graciously given them this house, but would never allow them back into the Albury Estate.
As the townhouse appeared in the window, his anxiety flared up again. That elegant house, adorned with lanterns outside,seemed so innocent and festive. And yet it was nothing more than a viper’s nest. The people who hated him the most in this world were nested in there, waiting for him. His body tensed, and he reminded himself that he had to be vigilant for his sake and for Arabella’s safety.
When he stepped out, he could hear music drifting from inside, mixed with the loud murmur of a crowd. His sister would never be satisfied with a simple, intimate event. He helped Arabella out of the carriage as he scanned the entrance. They went inside, and the servants tensed the moment they saw him. He was, after all, the man who paid the wages.
“The Duke and Duchess of Albury.”
The announcement made every head in the room turn. The rumor mill of the Cruel Duke was always spinning. The fact that his family had not attended his wedding had thrown more water on it. But now here he was, accepting a formal invitation. On the chessboard of the ton, this was a good move, despite the fear that overwhelmed him. They didn’t come to his wedding, but he was gracious enough to attend his half-sister’s engagement party. That didn’t mean that he would let his guard down.
Gerald’s gaze moved quickly across the ballroom. He located the main entrance. Two side doors. The staircase leading to the upper floor. He noted the arrangement of the room, the position of the musicians, and the location of the refreshments. Only after mapping the space in his mind did he allow himself to breathe slightly easier.
“Your Grace,” Arabella asked innocently, “are we attending an engagement celebration, or surveying the battlefield before a campaign? I should very much like to know, so I might adopt the appropriate temperament.”
Gerald glanced down at her. Her lips curved in a mischievous smile.
“Or is it an execution?” she continued thoughtfully.
“I would not be entirely opposed,” Gerald murmured, “if a few heads happened to roll.”
“In that case, we should sit in the back. I would hate to get blood on my precious gown,” she didn’t even hesitate. “If you had informed me accordingly, I would have worn the ruby one.”
“I will make sure I do so next time, Your Grace.”
“Are we expected to attend more executions?”
“I am afraid we have to endure at least one more.”
“Very well.” Arabella sighed dramatically. “But let us ensure the axe is properly sharpened. I should hate to lose valuable time.”
He huffed lowly as they made their way through the crowd that parted for him. No matter what awaited him in his own house,Arabella managed still to make him smile. Perhaps there was some witchcraft in her.
He was ready to offer her some refreshment when he felt a presence near, exactly like a prey senses a predator.
“Your Graces!”
That overly enthusiastic tone belonged to none other than Unity Warren, the Dowager Duchess of Albury. His back stiffened, his whole body went on high alert. Very slowly, he turned to face his stepmother, his arm resting on Arabella’s back as if to protect her.
His stepmother looked much older than the last time he had seen her. She had never been a very attractive woman, but now she had that permanently sour expression on her face that had deepened the lines and made her unpleasant. The look she gave him was one of thinly veiled disdain. The audacity astonished him. Everything in this house came from his pocket: the dowry of his half-sister, the very clothes she wore. And his stepmother was still regarding him as if he were someone she was forced to tolerate.
“Madame,” he said simply, because other people were watching. He hated the stupid rules of the ton. He would have preferred to remove these people from his life altogether, not ever have to interact with them. And yet he had to support them, be civil with them, while at the same time fending them off.
“I see you have brought the new Duchess along,” Unity said.
He grew furious upon hearing the tone of his stepmother. She was talking about Arabella as if she were some decorative figurehead and not the mistress of the house.
“How could I come without my wife?” he replied. “She is, after all, the Duchess of Albury.”
She was ready to say something when Joseph emerged behind Unity. Arabella stiffened, still remembering the encounter at the Opera, and he held her tighter, his hand reassuring on her back. His brother wore the same smirk that, outside civil society, would have earned him a broken jaw at least.
