His uncle narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I hope you understand that this changes nothing. This woman changes nothing. And if you know what is good for you, you will ensure that our secrets remain between us. She might be your wife, but she will never be family.”
Harry swallowed hard, watching his uncle walk away. The momentary feeling of victory evaporated as he thought of the secrets they kept. The secrets his uncle kept. And what might happen if any of those secrets were ever exposed.
CHAPTER 5
“Engaged to a duke!” Lord Worcester exclaimed, his face flushed and his eyes glazed over from too much celebratory wine. His usual belligerence was replaced with a rare display of exuberance as they made their way back home.
“A duke! Can you believe it?” Hanna turned to Arabella, her face etched with disbelief. “It’s real, then? The Duke of Sheffield? How did it come to this? You barely knew him before tonight,” she questioned.
The Earl, in his state of inebriation, interjected. “It happened because it was meant to be,” he declared with a grandiose wave of his hand. “I had all but given up hope for any match worthy of our family, given how you two have turned out.” He eyed Emma and Hanna before clicking his tongue in disapproval. “But Arabella—your youngest sister—set her sights on a duke and managed to secure a proposal in a single night. Your prospects might have improved as well, girls. I may finally rid myself ofyou and rise in Society at the same time,” he said, stomping his feet in delight.
The carriage slowed down abruptly, likely because the driver mistook the noise for a command to stop.
Arabella poked her head out the window. “Keep going,” she called to the driver. “Father is celebrating.”
The vehicle lurched back into motion, jostling her in her seat. Outside, the moon hung high in the sky, and the stars twinkled—a beautiful night that would have found her stargazing in the garden under different circumstances. Tonight, however, her thoughts were otherwise occupied.
“Bella?” Emma’s voice, tinged with skepticism, cut through her reverie. “I can scarcely believe it.”
“Neither can I,” Hanna echoed.
Arabella shrugged in response, feeling the weight of her sisters’ expectant gazes as their father continued to extol the virtues of her match. She could see the questions in her sisters’ eyes but knew they dared not voice them with their father present.
“So,” the Earl concluded, his voice filled with pride as the carriage rumbled into the outskirts of London, “Arabella will soon be the Duchess of Sheffield. His Grace’s estate is quite near to ours, so you may visit her often.”
It was clear what he meant—he wanted his daughters out of his house as soon as possible, even if they weren’t yet married.
“I do not understand,” Emma said, scratching her chin. “Is this truly a favorable match? The Duke of Sheffield has such a dubious reputation…”
“The Duke’s reputation matters little,” their father retorted dismissively. “So what if he has secrets? We all have them. I’m sure the three of you scribble down your secrets in your diaries. Arabella will be very happy—she’ll be a duchess. And not just any duchess, but one married to a man with vast estates in London and the north. He’s wealthier than most earls, viscounts, and barons combined.”
“But Father, I’ve heard that he keeps rather dangerous secrets,” Hanna said cautiously.
The Earl waved off her concern. “There are rumors, yes, but what of it? We all have our quirks. Would I allow such a match to proceed if I thought him unsuitable? What do you take me for?”
Arabella motioned for her sisters to remain silent. She could not bear the thought of their father’s mood plummeting from its current high to a much darker place.
“The Duke of Sheffield is a man of good standing. He needs a wife, and he needs one urgently. With no male heirs in his line, his family name will die with him—unless he has an heir. You better get on with it, Arabella.” The Earl winked at her.
Arabella felt a wave of nausea. Some topics were simply too uncomfortable to broach with her father, and the topic of producing heirs was certainly one of them. She had to wonder if this had played into the Duke’s decision-making, though he had not outright admitted it.
A shudder raced through her, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
For the rest of the journey, the Earl continued rambling about the future, while Arabella’s thoughts spiraled further. Despite the Duke’s assurances, she had little confidence that her life would be filled with joy after the wedding.
Upon arriving home, the Earl summoned his steward, Mr. Barnes, and retreated to his study with a bottle of brandy. At the door, he turned and waved the bottle in the air.
“I bought this brandy the day Hanna was born,” he said, turning to face his daughters. “I promised your mother I would open it the night one of you got engaged. I’ve had to wait far longer than I intended, but now, thanks to Arabella, that night has finally come.”
He shut the door behind him, leaving Arabella to slump onto the bottom step of the grand staircase, her head buried in her lap.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” Emma’s voice was tinged with bitterness. “You’re Father’s new favorite now. Enjoy it while it lasts.”
“Do not be spiteful, Emma,” Hanna interjected, her voice firm. “We’ve all had our moments with Father. Arabella can’t help that his esteem for you has waned, thanks to your sharp tongue.”
Emma opened her mouth to retort, but Arabella groaned. “Please, not right now,” she begged.
