“I am sure,” Unity said through gritted teeth, “that you must be burdened with the management of such a vast estate.”
If they couldn’t attack her standing in his household, they might as well question her suitability.
“I find it rather complex, I must admit,” Arabella said truthfully.
“Of course, rising to the Duchess position after being the daughter of a… I don’t recall. Was your father a Viscount or a Baron?” Cecilia added.
His grip on his glass was threatening its integrity. They were shamelessly attacking Arabella in front of everyone. They were poking at her until they found her weak spot, the one that would make her lose her composure and her good manners, and be exposed like the lowlife they wanted her to appear.
“A Viscount, Lady Fitzpatrick,” Arabella sadly reminded, now that they were separated in station. “How kind of you to remember.”
Cecilia stilled, still holding her precious silverware with tight fists and an even tighter smile on her face.
“I just hope you didn’t have to endure such a great change of station. After all, being a Duchess requires a certain savoir faire. Unity came to assist her daughter. “I am well aware of that.”
“One does not endure being a Duchess,” Arabella kept her friendly smile, but her eyes conveyed a more imperial air. “One simply rises to the occasion.”
The room went almost still, and only the sparse sound of cutlery was heard in the dining hall. It was as if the guests took a collective breath. Gerald noticed with satisfaction that though most people were Cecilia’s guests, they all smiled at Arabella. She was not dubbed the sunshine of the town for no reason.
He looked at Unity sideways, and Gerald knew that this was far from over. This was their plan. They knew that he would be vigilant and would never leave Arabella alone again, so they went with a good old public humiliation.
“Of course, Your Grace,” Unity took the thread from Arabella’s impeccable answer and started weaving it. “After all, it must have been quite satisfying to rise to such a station so quickly. It is a wonder, though, how such a match came to be.”
To portray Arabella as a ruthless social climber was the main target in this last question. She was an unwanted bride and a temporary solution. That is what his family was trying to establish in the minds of the ton.
“I was the one who elevated her,” Gerald finally spoke up.
He looked at Arabella across the table and saw that her spine was straight, her eyes unwavering, and her hands fists, but with that beautiful smile upon her face.
“I chose Her Grace for the many virtues that she has, and I am glad to discover that she has much more,” he added, talking straight to his stepmother. “You can stop wondering.”
If they were almost quiet before, now you could even hear a pin drop on the carpet. He still kept eating his soup while everybody turned to look at him. He only raised his eyes to warn his stepmother and stepsister off of Arabella. He wouldn’t warn again.
“Ah,” Joseph drawled lightly, “my brother has always been… decisive.”
Gerald’s gaze flicked to him briefly. A warning. Nothing more. Joseph smiled.
“Though one cannot deny,” he continued, lazily turning his glass between his fingers, “that His Grace has a particular talent for acquiring what he desires.”
The guests looked between the two brothers. Gerald dipped his spoon into the soup and tasted, completely unfazed. He had heard it all, cruel, cold, and emotionless. Joseph was barking up the wrong tree.
“Unlike my romantic mother,” Joseph continued, “I was under no delusion that the Duke’s marriage, as every relationship in his life, was just transactional.”
Gerald looked at his half-brother over the rim of his glass. They must have been quite desperate to attack him so openly. Gerald almost found himself amused. But with the corner of his eye, he saw Arabella. Her body was rigid, her jaw clenched. The soup before her remained untouched.
If Joseph saw the effect his words had on the Duchess, he didn’t mind, because he kept running his insolent mouth.
“Of course, to be right next to the Duke requires a certain… disposition,” Joseph continued.
He then glanced once at Arabella before returning to Gerald with a wide grin on his face.
“I just hope that Her Grace’s participation in this agreement is more voluntary than coerced.”
Gerald saw his half-brother play on his reputation as a cruel man, implying that he was holding Arabella captive and perhaps was being even more violent towards her. He ground his jaw and chose not to answer such a preposterous accusation.
But then he heard the scrape of a chair, and Arabella was standing. He looked at her in confusion, but she didn’t even glance at him. Her whole focus was on Joseph, who was sitting right across from her, a few chairs down.
She said nothing, just grabbed the bowl filled with cold soup and threw it in Joseph’s face with remarkable accuracy. The whole room froze.
