Arabella stormed up the stairs, her gown billowing behind her as she rounded the corner and made her way down the hallway to her chambers.
“How dare he?” she muttered under her breath. “How dare he speak to me like this, then act sweetly and reject me? What am I to make of him?” She yanked open her bedchamber door.
However, the moment she stepped inside, she froze. Her bedchamber was in disarray. The canopy above her bed hadbeen dismantled and lay on the hardwood floor. Likewise, the curtains that surrounded her four-poster bed, matching the hunting scene of the canopy above, were gone. Folded-up pieces of fabric lay on her bed. The ties that had held them together were scattered across the floor.
She hurried to the bell pull and tugged it, feeling the rough rope scrape against her palms. Moments later, Mabel burst through the door, and Arabella let out a little yelp. She had not expected the maid to arrive quite so soon.
“Your Grace,” Mabel said, a little out of breath. “I thought your music lesson was going to last a little while longer, so I wanted to take advantage. I do beg your pardon about the disarray.”
“What is this disarray?” Arabella asked, gesturing across the room.
Behind Mabel, she saw three footmen waiting to enter her bedchamber.
“We were working on putting up your new canopy.”
“My new canopy?” Arabella repeated.
“His Grace bought the material from town a few days ago and asked that we turn it into a new canopy for you. I was missing the top piece, and so I went downstairs to search for it. That is why your bedchamber is in such a state.”
“A new canopy?” she asked, aware she was echoing Mabel’s words.
“Yes, Your Grace. His Grace mentioned that you enjoy looking at the stars, so he ordered us to put up a canopy that looks like the night sky. We’ve been working on it below stairs for the last few days, fixing yellow and silver fabric to the blue to look like stars.” Mabel then walked over to the bed and unfolded the material, spreading it over the bedsheets. “You see?”
Arabella walked up to the bed and stared down at the fabric. It was a dark navy blue velvet, and sewn on it were hundreds of gold, silver, and yellow stars in different shapes and sizes. Harry had done this for her? He had ordered this for her?
She thought back to their walk in the garden at night. She had told him the story about the canopy Alexander had sent, which her father would not allow her to hang. She had known that he had paid attention to her, but that he would do this for her?
She ran her hand through her hair and shook her head. “His Grace did this for me? I don’t understand why. I didn’t think he cared for me very much.”
Mabel wet her lips. “His Grace is a difficult person to know. But he is not a bad person. He expresses his feelings in different ways, and I dare say if this is what he gifts you, then he is positively disposed to you.”
“Positively disposed to me? I wish his interactions with me would reflect this.”
As she looked down at the fabric in front of her, Arabella felt more confused than ever. Harry did all he could to stay out of her way, to reject her and keep his distance, and yet at the same time, he had found London’s premier tutor to teach her the violin, ensured that all her favorite meals were always served, and now he had done this.
Certainly, there was more to him than met the eye. But what was it that kept him from acting in her presence in a way that reflected these acts of kindness toward her?
Or could it be that all these acts were meaningless, and he only saw them as his duty as a husband to provide for her?
She exhaled sharply and shook her head, now more confused than ever.
CHAPTER 19
Harry dismounted his horse, handing the reins to one of the waiting grooms. The flickering light in Arabella’s chambers on the second floor drew his attention. A shadow flitted past the window, and he knew she was still awake. At least she was in her chambers, ensuring he could avoid encountering her tonight.
With a heavy heart, he made his way into the house. It had been three weeks since their wedding, and he had endeavored to avoid her as much as possible. It wasn’t because he lacked the desire to be with her. Rather, he knew he had to keep his distance. For the truth was, whenever he saw her, he felt an overwhelming urge to converse, to ask how her day had been. On the few occasions when he succumbed to this desire, they sometimes spoke for an hour, and she would tell him everything she had done throughout the day.
It felt so comfortable, so natural, to sit and talk with her, but he knew he could not make it a habit. It would be detrimental to them both.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Mrs. Blomquist, the housekeeper, greeted as he entered.
“Good evening,” he returned, but his attention was quickly diverted by the sound of music emanating from the music room. “Who is playing?” he asked as the melodious strains of the pianoforte filled the air.
“Lady Emma, Your Grace’s sister-in-law,” Mrs. Blomquist replied.
Harry blinked, recalling the figure he had seen rushing about upstairs. “I thought Her Grace had retired to bed. I could have sworn I saw her upstairs.”
“That would have been Mabel, Your Grace. She is preparing the room for Her Grace and her sisters. They are to have a sleepover.”
