She looked around quickly to make sure nobody was nearby to hear her speak this way, but they were alone.
He waved a dismissive hand, his eyes unfocused. “I didn’t say anything to them other than that they need to quit standing around and go dance. Your sisters are just dramatic. Go check on them.”
She stared at him, frustration bubbling inside her. He was always like this, always dismissive and self-absorbed. She felt a pang of guilt, knowing her sisters might need her, but also aflicker of resentment that she had to be the responsible one. She was the youngest, why did it fall to her to look after her sisters?
With a huff, she turned on her heel and made her way toward the stairs.
As she walked, her irritation at her father was replaced by genuine worry for Hanna. Hanna sometimes struggled with apprehension that grew so severe that she could faint from it. Perhaps it was because she used to be the one who had to carry the burden of being the oldest.
After Alexander’s departure, she’d been the one their father had thrust most of the responsibilities upon—until her frequent fits of fainting and general unwellness had transferred the responsibilities to Arabella. Emma was the one who’d stand up to their father the most, and knowing this, their father generally gave her a wider berth.
“Hanna? Emma?” Arabella called as she entered the library, struck by the familiar scent of aged paper and polished wood.
A chandelier lit the room, casting a glow over the tall, mahogany bookshelves that lined the walls. A fireplace crackled in the corner, and plush, high-backed chairs as well as a settee were arranged nearby. However, they were all empty.
Panic rose in her chest as she searched through the rows of bookshelves, her voice trembling slightly as she called out her sisters’ names. “Hanna? Where are you?”
Her footsteps echoed softly against the polished wooden floor, the only sound breaking the heavy silence in the room. She moved quickly, glancing behind each chair and around every corner, her worry mounting with each passing second.
Just as she was about to call out again, the door to the library creaked open. She spun around to see the Duke of Sheffield entering, his tall frame silhouetted against the light from the hallway. Arabella’s frustration flared.
“Are you following me? What do you want?” she demanded, her voice tinged with annoyance.
The Duke raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Perhaps I simply wanted to see you one more time before I left the ball, and properly lit this time,” he said lightly.
Arabella glared at him, refusing to respond.
The Duke laughed, shaking his head. “I am jesting,” he admitted. “You are a rather serious young lady, are you not?”
“So you did not follow me?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I did not. I came here to avoid the overeager mamas and daughters wishing to snag me. And to look for my uncle. You did not see a surly-looking man here, did you?”
She blinked. “Only the one in front of me,” she said.
He chuckled, evidently unaccustomed to a young lady speaking to him in such a way.
“Well, I deserve that. Do you mind if I wait here for my uncle?” he asked.
“This is not my house,” she pointed out. “And what do you mean the overeager mamas and daughters wish to snag you? Is that not why you are here? To find a wife? The theme is called Tender Hearts, after all.”
The Duke blinked rapidly. “Is it? I didn’t know. Well, it does not matter. Whatever the theme, the mamas always try to introduce me to their daughters. Or they take it upon themselves. Which is why I went to the garden in the first place.” He shrugged, leaning casually against a bookshelf. “The relentless attention is exhausting.”
Arabella couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “You’re lucky to have so many proposals,” she remarked dryly.
He chuckled softly, his sparkling eyes meeting hers. “Lucky? It’s more of a curse, really. Everyone wants something from me, and their attentions are rarely genuine.” His expression grew serious. “The idea of marriage is rather boring to me, anyhow.”
Arabella raised an eyebrow. “So you came here to escape? I thought it was to find your uncle.”
The Duke shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. “A bit of both, although I do need to find my uncle. A gentleman told me he came this way.”
Arabella’s skepticism was evident in her eyes. It seemed odd that he’d choose the library of all the rooms in this house. There were other places a man could disappear into. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the Duke was looking to antagonize her—and it was working.
“You could have stayed in the garden if you wanted to escape,” she pointed out.
“I could have, but as I said, a gentleman told me my uncle needed me in the library. He fetched me from outside,” he said.
Suddenly, Arabella felt alarmed. A man had come to the garden to get him? Why?
