Except for Arabella. Very calmly, she smoothed her skirt and looked at Joseph straight in the eye while he was still shocked, soup running down his nose.
“Your mother must have been romantic, but she surely didn’t teach you manners,” Arabella said with furious clarity. “I sat at your table and endured whatever insult you thought would affect me.”
Her tone was even and polite. It was almost hard to believe that this composed lady had just hurled asparagus soup at someone. After his initial shock, Gerald felt quite proud of his Duchess.
“And honestly, I wouldn’t mind whatever insults you had in mind,” Arabella smiled at Cecilia and Unity before returning to Joseph, “but I will not sit idly by while you insult my husband.”
The room filled with murmurs and whispers. If they were expecting Arabella to confirm she was strong-armed into this marriage, Arabella gloriously shattered that delusion.
“I will simply not accept others talking about my husband as if he’s some kind of an untamed beast. If anyone has anything to add to these accusations,” Arabella openly looked at Cecilia and Unity, “perhaps I should ask for a second helping of the soup.”
She was positively shaking with anger, her blue eyes tempestuous, threatening. She looked glorious in her rage, a true Duchess if there was ever one.
“His Grace has been nothing but generous,” she continued, “but you proved to be unworthy of his generosity. You keep pushing and insulting him. Well, I for one will not sit around to hear people talk about the man I love like that.”
The man I love. Gerald was still processing that phrase that she had used when Arabella threw her towel on the table and stormed out of the room with her head held high.
“You must excuse me,” Gerald said. All eyes turned to him. “I must attend to my wife. Again, Cecilia, I wish you all the happiness you deserve.”
That was all he said, and he ran after Arabella. The man she loved. That phrase echoed in his mind as he ran after Arabella.
CHAPTER 25
Garden Disappointments
Arabella walked away, barely registering the murmurs accompanying her as she walked out of the room.
She was shaking, her whole body taken over by rage. That insolent man, daring to talk about Gerald like that, implying that he was…
She ran off as fast as she could, or else she might go back there and do far worse than throw cold soup in his face.
Her pulse was still ringing in her ears, deafening her to everything else. And perhaps that was good. To hear others dare to gossip about her action would make her furious.
Joseph deserved what he had coming to him. He insulted Gerald, publicly tried to ridicule him, and tried to drag her into the mud with him.
She walked away in fury, and her footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. And the further away she went, the more the echoes of her departure faded.
She saw the hallway ahead of her, the sunny exit shedding sunlight onto the wooden panels, illuminating the doorframe in a heavenly way. She needed to get out and breathe.
The moment the sun rays hit her skin, most of her anger evaporated. She was never a person to be shaken by anger, after all. This might be the first time that she had actually acted on such an impulse.
Only then did she realize what she had done. Did she actually throw soup on a gentleman before guests? She did. Arabella replayed the scene as if it were an out-of-body experience.
She remembered sitting there, listening to Joseph hurl all these accusations against Gerald. It took everything from her to refrain from speaking her mind, but her whole body tensed. When Joseph blatantly said he was abused, she lost all composure.
She picked up her bowl and was very inclined to throw it exactly as it was, not just its contents. But luckily, she managed to control herself as much as possible.
The next thing she remembered was Joseph’s astonished face, soup running down his nose and onto the expensive coat that had been paid for with Gerald’s money.
Right there in the small garden, she felt a wave of satisfaction, the memory of Joseph’s utter humiliation still sweet in her memory.
But then realization dawned on her. She had caused a scene. And not just a verbal altercation, she had outright behaved in the most vulgar, improper way, no matter how Joseph deserved that.
“Oh no!” she muttered to herself. “What have I done?”
The whole room had watched her throw soup like a petulant toddler. She still saw their surprised faces, some of them already smirking with delight at her slip.
“No, no, no, no,” panic started to take over. “This is not happening.”
