Her sisters fell silent, and then Hanna cleared her throat. “She’s right. We shouldn’t quarrel on such a night. This is supposed to be a joyous occasion. An engagement to the Duke of Sheffield is quite a sensation… and a surprise. Why did you ask about him when we first arrived at the ballroom? Did you have plans to speak with him?”
“No,” Arabella replied, shaking her head. “I had no such plans. None of this was planned.”
“You did, I’m certain of it!” Emma wagged her finger at Arabella. “You had your eye on him. Goodness, you work quickly. You’re to help us find matches next.”
“Oh yes, with a duke as a brother-in-law, we might still find husbands,” Hanna said, her mood brightening. “And I suppose you’re not worried about his reputation if you agreed to the proposal so swiftly. Perhaps the rumors are unfounded. But tell us, how did you persuade him to propose?”
“I did nothing,” Arabella replied, her voice steady despite her inner turmoil. “It was Father who orchestrated it all. I spoke briefly with the Duke in the garden, and Father learned about it. He saw it as the perfect opportunity and sent me into the library, claiming Hanna was about to faint.”
Hanna blinked, puzzled. “We went into the garden to find you. I certainly did not almost faint. Indeed, I declare that I have not fainted once this Season, and when it happened last Season, it was due to the heat. I resent this reputation of a frail flower.”
Arabella knew she ought to comfort her sister, but for one, Hanna’s reputation for being delicate was a deserved one, and for another, Arabella didn’t have it in her to pay a Spanish coin to her sister right now.
“In any case,” Emma spoke up, “we returned just in time to hear the announcement.”
“It was Father’s doing,” Arabella said again, her voice sterner now. “He sent me to the library, and the Duke mentioned someone had told him to go there as well, saying his uncle needed him. Father and Lady Lawrence were outside. He must have intended for it to look like we had sneaked away together. The truth was far less scandalous, though. I tried to leave, but I slipped and fell, and the Duke caught me…”
“He caught you when you fell,” Hanna cooed, her eyes twinkling. “How charming!”
“Yes, very charming,” Emma agreed, surprising Arabella.
Emma, ever the practical one, seemed swept up in the romantic notion.
If only it were as simple as they believed. But Arabella could not bring herself to shatter their hopeful illusions.
“Well, here I am, engaged,” she said with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant.
Emma’s eyes widened. “So, when you spoke to him, you confirmed that the rumors were false?”
“Yes,” Arabella said, not wanting to add to her sisters’ anxieties. “The rumors are likely exaggerated. He is merely private.”
For a skeptic, Emma accepted this explanation with surprising ease. “If that’s the case, then even if Father arranged it all, the Duke’s willingness to marry you post-haste must mean he’s taken with you as well. The possibilities are endless. You two might truly fall in love. Perhaps the Duke’s indifference to the ball and your slip was fate.”
“Perhaps,” Arabella muttered, though she knew otherwise.
She knew she should reveal the Duke’s dispassionate view of marriage, but she could not bear to distress her sisters.
And so, the three sisters sat together, discussing the wedding with renewed hope and excitement. For a brief moment, it felt as if nothing tragic had ever befallen them. It was as if they weremerely three young women planning a joyous future. Arabella cherished this fleeting sense of normalcy.
It wasn’t until very late at night, after her sisters had gone to bed and her father had retreated to his chamber, that Arabella had time to ponder what this all meant.
What would her life actually look like if she hadn’t met the Duke of Sheffield? And more importantly, who was the Duke of Sheffield?
She thought about the things she knew about her fiancé. He was the sort of man who attended many balls but with reluctance. He was rich—that was known, and her father had confirmed it. His parents had died when he was a child. He had no family other than his uncle. And marriage seemed to not matter to him at all.
His reputation was that of a man who liked to keep secrets and who could be temperamental. That wasn’t much, and none of it made her feel any better about marrying him.
No, she had to find out more.
She slipped out of bed and into her slippers, picking up the candleholder with the half-burned down candle from her nightstand as she made her way down the hall to her father’s study. She’d find answers there—at least she hoped so. The Earl kept newspapers in a box near his desk, old ones dating back to at least a couple of years. It was one of his peculiarities, keeping old papers. He said it was in case somebody tried to cheat him, or mess with his memory…
But she knew he kept these papers because he needed reminders of things that had happened. His memory had weakened due to the excessive drinking, and he needed to remind himself where he had been, which meetings he had attended, and who had attended them. The newspapers helped him with that. He sometimes resorted to asking Arabella or her sisters for help, but she knew he hated this, as it showed weakness.
Arabella knelt in front of the heavy mahogany box bearing the family crest and opened it. The box gave a heavy squeak, and she rifled through it. On top, she found an old blanket, one that had once belonged to her mother. Beneath it, she found several glass bottles, all of them empty. Her stomach churned.
Her father was hiding bottles… Not a good sign.
Pushing the worry aside, she picked up the papers beneath the bottles. Some stank of old whiskey, others simply smelled damp. She pulled a stack aside to avoid inhaling too much of it. Her father primarily read theLondon Timesand theMorning Call, and there were dozens of copies of each.
