The Duke stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “My Lord, I assure you, nothing untoward happened here. Lady Arabella and I were merely conversing when she tripped and I caught her. There is no need for such drastic measures.”
Lady Lawrence, ever the opportunist, interjected with a sly smile, “It may not look that way to others, Your Grace. Appearances, after all, are everything in our society.”
“And pray, who might tell them, Lady Lawrence?” he asked.
Arabella had a faint hope that all might be well when she saw Lady Lawrence’s face drop a little. However, her father swiftly took control of the situation again. He gripped her arm tightly. “Your Grace, look at my daughter. She will be ruined. Everyone saw both of you rush to the library at the same time. Everyonewill talk. Can you really look at yourself in the mirror knowing you’ve ruined her? And her sisters?”
“You arranged all of this,” Arabella accused. She yelped when her father dug his fingernails into her arm. “I do not want to marry,” she insisted defiantly.
“Think of your sisters. They are already getting older and have no husbands. If you end up ruined as well, they’ll never wed, and you will be three old maids. Do you want to have that on your conscience?” Lord Worcester hissed, then looked at the Duke. “Do you? You took advantage of my daughter—Lady Lawrence and I both saw it. I am sure you would not want to be known as a man who ruins young ladies in such a fashion.”
Arabella’s mind raced, torn between her duty to her family and her desires. Mixed in was the uncertainty that the Duke would not even want to marry her. She looked at him pleadingly, though she wasn’t sure what she was pleading for.
“I dare say I have not done anything wrong. Neither has your daughter,” he said, and she felt certain he’d dismiss the obvious threats.
“As I said, nobody will care. And as for who will tell others… I shall, of course,” Lady Lawrence stated. “The ton must be warned about the sort of menaces walking among them. And you will not scare me into not doing my duty.”
“I assure you, I did not mean to scare you. If I did, you’d know,” the Duke replied.
Lady Lawrence flinched just a little bit.
“I suppose it would not be very good for the Dukedom of Sheffield to have another scandal attached to its name,” Lord Worcester said.
“I hardly think my parents’ death was a scandal, Lord Worcester,” the Duke replied smoothly.
Arabella had to admit that she quite admired the glib way he spoke to her father. He wasn’t scared of him, and because the Duke outranked him, her father knew he couldn’t argue.
However, she had to remind herself that even though she enjoyed her father being put in his place, this would affect her life going forward. She might well be ruined and never find a husband now. And her sisters? They would be ruined too.
We’ll all be trapped in Hayward Manor forever!
She staggered sideways, almost grateful that her father was still gripping her arm because she would have fallen over otherwise.
“You see? She is realizing now that she’s ruined,” Lady Lawrence said and nodded toward Arabella, though her expression lacked any sort of goodwill.
Arabella looked down at the black and white marble floor, horrid visions of a life where her father tormented her and her sisters for eternity flashing before her eyes.
Suddenly, the Duke sighed. “Very well,” he said, and she looked at him. “I suppose we ought to get married.” He shrugged, as though he had just agreed to purchase a yard of fabric for curtains he wasn’t entirely sure he needed.
Arabella’s mouth dropped open, while her father blinked.
“You agree to marry my daughter?” Lord Worcester asked in disbelief. Then he recovered. “Good. Very good. You had better, otherwise I will have to demand satisfaction.”
Was the Duke smirking? Arabella couldn’t be sure, but she thought she’d seen his lips twitch a little. Yes, they did. He was… amused.
“It is a good thing that will not happen, for that would be a scandal neither of our houses could weather,” he said, then turned to Arabella. “My Lady, allow me to escort you out. I think we should at least share one dance before we are wed, do you not think?” he asked, offering her his hand.
“But the details,” Lord Worcester protested.
“They will be arranged soon enough,” the Duke said in a tone that brooked no argument. Then, he took Arabella’s arm, and the two of them walked out of the library.
Arabella could not feel her legs as they walked toward the ballroom. She’d rushed to the library seeking her sisters with a faint dream of leaving her home, where fights and argumentswere a daily occurrence, and she’d emerged from it not only engaged but to aduke.
It could be a fairytale if one only looked at it from the surface. Alas, when she looked at the man she was to marry, her stomach twisted into knots. For this was no fairytale.
The man she was marrying was not a prince, but a volatile, mercurial man whom she could not understand. Hanna’s voice echoed in her mind.
“… never settle for a man you don’t love. Otherwise, you’ll end up trapped again in a house you’ll always want to leave.”
