It was enough.
More importantly, it had not touched her.
Arabella moved through the world now with a steadiness that had once been effortless but now seemed deliberately chosen. Maxwell noticed it in small ways. The way she entered a room without pausing to measure who watched her. The way she met another’s gaze—never challenging, never yielding—simply certain of her place within it.
There was curiosity still. He heard it in lowered voices, saw it in the slight shifts of conversation when they passed too near. But it remained contained, checked by something stronger than intrigue.
Respect, perhaps.
Or caution.
Maxwell did not trouble himself to decide which.
“Your Grace.”
He glanced up from the correspondence before him as the steward paused just inside the study. “Yes.”
“The carriage is prepared, as requested. Her Grace is already below.”
Maxwell set the paper aside without finishing the line. “Very well.”
He did not hurry.
There was no reason to.
By the time he reached the entrance hall, Arabella stood near the door, her gloves in hand, speaking quietly with a footman. She turned as he approached, her attention settling on him at once—not new anymore, but no less certain for it.
“We shall be late,” she said, though there was no urgency in her tone.
“Then we will arrive when we arrive.”
Her mouth curved, faint but real. “I am not certain society shares that philosophy.”
“Society is not required to.”
She held his gaze a moment longer than necessary, something thoughtful passing through her expression before she nodded. “No,” she said. “I suppose it is not.”
They stepped out together.
The movement was easy now. Unremarkable in a way it had never been before. The carriage waited, the driver already in place, the footman stepping forward without needing instruction.
Maxwell offered his hand.
Arabella took it without hesitation.
It was a small thing, brief as she stepped up, but it no longer felt like a gesture made for the benefit of others. It had settled into something else—habit, perhaps. Or something quieter than that.
He followed her inside, taking the seat opposite as the carriage moved.
“You have not told me where we are going,” he said after a moment.
Arabella lifted a brow. “I did. You simply were not listening.”
“That seems unlikely.”
“You were reading,” she replied. “And making that expression you reserve for documents you find poorly constructed.”
Maxwell considered that. “That does sound accurate.”
