He chuckled. “Nor do I. I much prefer a good flummery.”
“As do I,” she said.
“Good. We shall inform the cook, and we shall have it for dinner tonight. The advantage is that we won’t have to share with anyone.”
She smiled at this, pleased that the tension between them had eased, if only for a little while.
“Eat your food,” her father commanded from across the table, taking her aback with his abruptness.
“I am not hungry,” she replied. “Besides, you know that I do not care for hare.”
She felt a sudden bitterness toward her father for serving the one dish she disliked most on her wedding day.
“You will eat it,” he hissed, forcing a smile for their guests.
She thought it was Harry who had paid for all the food, not her father. His smile took on a menacing edge as he placed a hand on her arm and squeezed hard, making her wince. Beside her, she felt Harry’s gaze turn toward them, his eyebrows rising. He opened his mouth to speak but was distracted by his uncle, who sat to his left.
“Come inside with me,” the Earl ordered.
“I would rather not,” Arabella replied.
“This is still my home, and you will do as I say,” her father hissed.
Arabella considered making a scene. She was the Duchess of Sheffield now—she was not to be ordered about by an earl, even if he was her father. But she thought of her sisters, who still had to live under his roof, and she complied.
She rose and walked into the manor, her father right behind her.
“Arabella!” Harry called after her. She looked over her shoulder. “Is something the matter?”
“Nothing is the matter at all, Your Grace,” the Earl said in a fake cheerful tone. Once inside, he shut the door behind them. “Arabella, I will have you know that I will tolerate no arguments from you in front of our guests. If I tell you to eat your food, you will eat it.”
“Father, I am not a child. Nor am I subject to your will any longer. I am a duchess now, and if I do not wish to eat hare, I shall not eat hare,” she declared defiantly.
Her father’s bushy eyebrows drew together as he looked at her. “You think you are better than me now, do you not? I will have you know that becoming a duchess does not make you any better than me. And let us not forget that it is because of me and my actions that you are a duchess at all. Otherwise, you would still be as useless as your sisters.”
“I will not have you speak of my sisters in such a manner.”
“I will speak of my daughters as I see fit. And I will not have you ridicule me. Everyone will think I have failed to provide you with the wedding feast of your dreams.”
“You know I despise hare. You know I do not care for carrots and peas. You know I dislike dining outside. Or do you know nothingof your children’s preferences? Perhaps you have always been too deep in your cups to notice.”
“You will not raise your voice at me!” the Earl snapped, his hands curling into fists. A whiff of whatever he had been drinking reached her nostrils, and she turned away. “Youwillbe grateful,” he warned, wagging an accusatory finger in her face.
The creak of the door drew their attention, and Arabella looked back to see Harry enter. To say he looked out of sorts would be an understatement. His usually soft lips were pressed together into a thin line, his eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared.
“Your Grace,” the Earl said, though it was clear he was nervous, as sweat beaded on his hairline and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. “You really didn’t have to abandon your guests. My daughter and I were merely having a conversation, parent to child.”
“Is that so? Arabella, are you quite well?”
“I am,” Arabella replied. “Though my father took offense to my not enjoying the meal he so thoughtfully provided for us”, she added, unable to keep the snide tone out of her voice.
Her father turned to her, and she saw he wanted to raise his voice again but did not dare.
“I must say, such anger seems rather ridiculous when directed at the Duchess, My Lord,” Harry said smoothly. “We shall bedining at the Palace, with the Prince Regent and his wife. I hardly think it appropriate for you to chastise your daughter about what she does or does not wish to eat. Besides, I distinctly recall asking you what meal we should serve your daughter, and you assured me that this was her favorite, only for me to find out that she dislikes it just as much as I do.”
“You did not enjoy the wedding feast?” the Earl sputtered, rounding on his daughter. “Arabella, how could you let me prepare this knowing your husband does not enjoy it? What sort of wife will you be if you cannot even ensure your spouse has the type of food he likes on his wedding day?”
His voice had risen, and Arabella took a step back, shocked by his outburst. Her father, always temperamental, usually kept his emotions in check in front of company. To hear him speak this way in front of Harry was most shocking.
