“Your Grace,” she said formally.
That combination of her words and her tone was as if a wall was erected between them. He looked at her as if he didn’t expect that welcome. And what exactly did he expect, that she would joke and smile as she did before?
“Arabella, you cannot go,” he said from where he was standing.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” she said firmly, her spine straight. “I believe we have agreed that I will have freedom of movement. That we would basically stay out of each other’s way. I cannot possibly stay more out of your way than visiting my grandmother in Wales.”
“Perhaps I didn’t phrase that correctly. What I mean to say,”
“I will not allow you to forbid me from going where I want.”
“You have a really nasty habit of not letting me finish what I want to say,” he said, both with mirth and a hint of bitterness.
“It is good, then, that I am taking my nasty habits and taking them far away from you,” Arabella ground her jaw.
“No, it is not good. It’s simply not working for me.”
“And you presume I would have any interest in what exactly works for you?”
“Arabella, if you let me explain, I will tell you,”
“I believe we said all we had to say,” Arabella reminded him. “And it was all over.”
Gerald looked at her as if reality had dawned upon him. He looked down, gathering his thoughts. Arabella frowned upon seeing him so indecisive, struggling almost. He was always so confident when talking to others, and yet he seemed lost. Maybe it was because he expected her to be obedient and follow him back. He made the wrong bet.
“I need to show you something,” Gerald finally said.
He reached into his pocket and got out a piece of paper. He looked at her and extended the paper. Arabella was not expecting that and, honestly, was not quite sure what to expect at this point.
Curiosity, impatience, and the fact that she was barely holding it together without breaking down and crying made her take one step closer and take that paper in her hands. She looked at it. It was a deed to a summer house in Brighton.
“What exactly am I supposed to do with it?” Arabella asked, sincerely perplexed.
“I… I bought this house.”
“And you rode from London to here, interrupting my journey to Wales, to inform me of an acquisition of real estate? Am I reading this correctly?”
“I have never been to Brighton.” He suddenly seemed too nervous.
“Neither have I,” Arabella said politely but quite irritated. “I hear it is lovely during the summer. Would that be all, Your Grace?”
“I am told the house is beautiful during the summer as well. It has a view of the sea.”
“Splendid.” Arabella was at her wits’ end.
“I thought so too,” he said enthusiastically.
“Perfect. I should hope that you have a very good time in Brighton, Your Grace. Can we now carry on to our destinations?”
Gerald seemed absolutely defeated, and she couldn’t understand why. Why was he here, giving her a piece of paper with land that he had bought? When he looked up at her again, his look was overwhelmed, almost crushed.
“Do you really want to go to Wales, Arabella?”
The question hit its mark. Arabella suddenly busied herself with her gloves, straightening them while they were alreadystraightened. Underneath the silk, she felt the metal of her wedding band, and it was as if it were mocking her.
“I am asking you, Arabella,” Gerald repeated the question and took one step closer to her. “Do you really want to go to Wales?”
“I know I don’t want to stay in London,” Arabella looked up straight into his eyes, cold as ice.
