“My hypothetical happiness?” Harry asked. “There is no guarantee that Arabella would ever truly care for me. I am not exactly the most charming gentleman when it comes to theladies. But say that she did—you know very well that my uncle has me ensnared in a web of secrets. If they were ever exposed, the results would be dreadful, not just for me. In fact, least of all for me. I do not care what people think of me, but… there are those who rely on me, people I must keep safe.” He paused, lowering his voice, even though he knew they were quite alone in his chambers. “Have you found anyone?”
Brandon shook his head. “No. There was a family in Ireland that I spoke with, and they seemed inclined to take her in, but when they learned of the details, they declined. Your reputation reaches far and wide.”
“Perdition,” Harry grumbled. “That is the third family to refuse to take her in, and all for the same reasons. My uncle… I wish I could stand up to him. I wish I could put him in his place, but I cannot.”
“I overheard you speaking to your wife earlier in the ballroom. I was just coming up from the servants’ quarters with your pressed suit for tomorrow, and I heard you tell her that she holds a position of influence. You told her how rich and powerful you are, and by extension, she is—what a high position she holds. The same is true for you. Your uncle is a mere man, and whatever secrets he has you entangled in, surely a duke could withstand anything. There are few things I can think of that might bring a duke to his knees.”
Harry swallowed. Brandon knew a great deal about him, but not everything. There were those in his household who knew almostthe entire truth, and Brandon certainly was one of them. But there was nobody he could ever trust completely.
“Brandon, I am tired. Will you fetch me a fresh candle for my nightstand?”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Brandon said, understanding that the conversation was now over.
As Brandon walked out to fetch the requested candle, Harry climbed the steps to his bed and let himself fall onto the soft cushions behind him, arms akimbo. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling, where a simple canopy hung. He thought back to his conversation with Arabella.
She was tender-hearted and kind, and he knew that if he allowed himself, he could grow to truly care for her, but that was a complication he did not need in his life. Not now. Perhaps not ever.
No, no matter what Brandon said, no matter what Harry felt, at the end of the day, what his heart wanted didn’t matter—not even what his mind desired. His life was too complicated, the burdens of his past too heavy to allow for even the possibility of a brighter future.
CHAPTER 16
The following morning, Arabella leaped out of bed, forgetting to use the steps, her bare feet landing on the hardwood floor. However, she didn’t mind. For the first time in a long while, she felt hopeful.
She rushed across the room to the bell pull by the door and tugged it to summon Mabel. As she waited, she paused in front of the mirror. Did she look different today? She hadn’t taken a proper look at herself since her wedding and wondered if becoming a married woman had changed her appearance somehow. Yet, as she examined her reflection, she saw the same young woman staring back at her—a soft, baby-faced complexion, the same plain chestnut-brown hair, and bright, sparkling eyes. Perhaps her sisters would notice a difference. It had only been forty-eight hours since she last saw them, but it felt like an eternity—the longest they had ever been apart.
Oddly, she hadn’t felt the passage of time. Her wedding day had been a whirlwind, followed by the unpleasant confrontation with her father, and then the journey to her new home. There hadhardly been a moment to miss them. Yesterday had been filled with righteous anger after Harry had neglected her. Now, with a clearer mind, she realized how much she missed her sisters.
She resolved to visit them today and share everything that had happened. She would tell them that Harry had said he would never love her, but after their evening together, she wondered if there might be a chance. She needed their advice, their guidance, to ensure she didn’t make a fool of herself.
Arabella hurried to her armoire, opening it to reveal an array of dresses, all new and beautiful. She noticed that many were in shades of Pomona green and lavender—her favorite colors. Had Harry ordered these for her? How had he known her preferences? Could it be that he had cared enough to make inquiries?
Her heart fluttered at the thought, but she reminded herself that it was just speculation, not certainty.
A knock on the door pulled her out of her reverie, and Mabel entered.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” Mabel said cheerfully, though Arabella noted the fatigue in her eyes, marked by dark circles.
“Good morning, Mabel. I intend to visit my sisters today, so I shall not need you for most of the day. You may have the day off if you wish.”
Mabel paused, blinking in surprise. “Are you quite certain, Your Grace? You do not wish for me to accompany you to your father’s home?”
“No, I think it would be better if I went alone. I shall return for dinner, but until then, I won’t require your services. However, I would appreciate your help in dressing.”
“Of course,” Mabel said, setting down the basin she had been carrying. She swiftly arranged the washbowl on the dresser and began preparing Arabella for the day. “Which gown do you fancy, Your Grace?”
Arabella reached for a gown made of muslin and tulle, in a combination of lavender and Pomona green. “This one,” she replied, running her fingers over the delicate fabric. “These are my favorite colors.”
“I know,” Mabel murmured with a smile.
Arabella’s smile widened. So, Harry had made inquiries, after all.
“Did His Grace tell you this?” she asked.
Mabel’s expression changed. “No, Your Grace,” she replied, a bit flustered. “He asked us to speak with your father’s staff to learn your preferences. We did not discover much, but your sister Lady Emma was kind enough to share your favorite colors andmaterials. Had there been more time, we would have been better prepared, but your marriage was rather hastily arranged.”
Arabella nodded, though she barely heard Mabel’s explanation. Of course, Harry hadn’t asked directly—he didn’t care for her that way. He had merely had others in his household find out what she liked and disliked. That had to count for something, didn’t it?
Once Mabel had finished helping her dress, Arabella made her way down the stairs, her hand gliding along the smooth banister. Below, she heard voices coming from the dining room, and her heart skipped a beat. Harry was already there. She had hoped they might breakfast together this morning. But as she entered the room, she saw that he had already finished. A plate lay in front of him, crumbs scattered across it, and a knife smeared with jam lay beside it.
