Page 71 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

"She wasn't..." He stopped, looking miserable. "It's not my place to say."

"Oh, but you've already said so much," Cassandra purred. "Didn't you tell me she was planning to end the betrothal? That she was going to speak to Lucien that very night?"

Lucien had gone very still. Arabella could feel him trembling—with rage or pain, she couldn't tell.

"Is that true?" he asked quietly.

Chapter 13

Mr. Hartwell looked between them all, then seemed to make a decision. "Yes. She was going to ask for her freedom. She... she had realised you didn't love each other, not truly. And she wanted to release you both."

The silence that followed was deafening. Arabella could hear her own heartbeat, could feel the weight of hundreds of eyes upon them.

Then she stepped forward.

"Is it?" Cassandra's voice carried now, ensuring maximum audience. "I just think that the Countess would want to know if her husband's past is as he said it was."

"Enough," Arabella said, stepping forward. "You've made your point."

"Have I? And what point would that be?"

"That you're bitter, vindictive, and so consumed by jealousy that you'd slander a dead woman to hurt the man who rejected you."

Gasps rippled through their audience. Cassandra's perfect composure cracked.

"How dare you?"

"How dare I what? Speak the truth? You couldn't have Lucien, so you've decided no one can. But here's what you don't understand; I already know about Matilda. I know about the fire. I know about his scars, inside and out. And I don't care."

"You don't care that she might have been..."

"What? Human? Imperfect? Trapped in a betrothal she might not have wanted any more than he did?" Arabella looked at Mr. Hartwell. "Were you lovers?"

The man looked terrified but answered. "No. We were friends. Just friends. She was lonely, and we talked sometimes. That's all."

"But the fire..." Cassandra started.

"Was an accident," Arabella said firmly. "A terrible, tragic accident that took a young woman's life and nearly took my husband's. And you're using it as a weapon because you can't bear that he's happy without you."

"Happy?" Cassandra laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. "With you? A nobody who fell into a lake?"

"Dived," Lucien corrected quietly. "She dived into the lake."

It was such an unexpected interjection that Cassandra stopped mid-tirade.

"What?"

"She dived into the lake," he repeated, louder now. "To save her dog. She didn't fall, she didn't stumble but she chose to jump in. Just like she chose to marry me, despite my scars and reputation. Just like she chooses, every day, to see me as a man instead of a beast."

He took Arabella's hand, lifting it to his lips in a gesture that was both public and intensely intimate.

"You want to hurt me through her," he said to Cassandra. "But all you've done is remind me how fortunate I am. My wife knows my past, my failures, my regrets. She knows them and stands beside me anyway. Can you say the same about anyone in your life?"

Cassandra's face had gone white, then red. "You'll regret this. Both of you."

"The only thing I regret," Lucien said, "is wasting so many years letting you and others dictate my life. Now, if you'll excuse us, I promised my wife another dance."

He led Arabella away, leaving Cassandra standing in the middle of a crowd that was already beginning to whisper—not about the Blackthorns, but about Lady Velott's spectacular failure.