Not too long ago, she would have felt the same way. But now, thanks to her husband, she did not have to fear him anymore.
“Go to my chamber,” she instructed them, then turned to one of the footmen, who instantly stood to full attention. “Wilson, go up with my sisters and stand outside my chamber door.”
As soon as her sisters left the room, she turned to Harry. “I apologize for all of this—I know this is not what you wanted.”
He shook his head. “Do not apologize. I knew who I was marrying. I knew about your father. We will deal with this. Trust me, you will have no more trouble from him.”
Arabella desperately wanted to believe him—she had spent too many years in that house with that man to be able to harbor the smallest hope.
She heard the carriage door open and slam shut, and when Harry walked to the door, she hesitated for a second.
What would her father want? What did he expect? What if he and Harry came to blows? No, her father would not be that foolish. Harry was twenty years younger, taller, and fitter—there was no way her father would start a physical fight with him. And yet, as she watched Harry walk to the front door, she could not help but worry.
“I am frightened,” she admitted, surprised by the tears welling up in her eyes.
Harry gently took her hand in his. “You need not be. This is our home. We are the Duke and Duchess of Sheffield. Nobody will harm your sisters. Trust me.”
As he smiled at her, she felt warmth spread through her, knowing that he meant it.
He had promised to keep her safe, and he would now.
CHAPTER 24
Harry threw open the front door, inhaling the warm evening air as he watched his father-in-law charge up the steps. The man’s face was beet red, and he was in such a huff that Harry almost expected steam to come out of his ears.
Arabella’s hand tightened around his fingers, and rage rose inside him. No man was going to scare Harry Ridlington’s wife, not while he was around to stop it. It pained him that Arabella was so afraid of her father and that she had spent the past thirteen years dreading his mercurial outbursts.
“Father!” she called.
Lord Worcester looked up, and when he saw Harry, his pace instantly slowed, and his visage changed slightly. “I did not expect you to be home, Your Grace,” he said. “I heard you were in town and?—”
“Would you not have come storming into my home if you were certain that I would be here?” Harry demanded.
“I would’ve come anyway, but… Well, it is good that you are here, for I must speak with you. I must object to the scheme my daughter has involved you in.”
“What scheme is that?” Arabella asked, but she did not let go of Harry’s hand, as though his touch gave her strength. He was grateful for that.
“The scheme to set your sisters up with a viscount and a baron? Will you never cease to attempt to ridicule me?”
“I dare say it is quite an improvement, is it not?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “A few months ago, none of your daughters were married. Now, your youngest daughter is married to a duke, and the other two could perhaps marry peers as well. Most fathers would be grateful.”
“It is not that I am not grateful for what you have done,” Lord Worcester hissed as he came closer.
Harry smelled the alcohol on him. Yes, his father-in-law was bosky once more—but not so bosky as to not be able to stand straight, which was a shame.
Harry contemplated offering him a glass of cognac to calm his nerves, but he knew it was not good to encourage someone whoalready had a penchant for excessive drinking to drink even more.
“But you must understand my daughter, Your Grace,” Lord Worcester continued. “She seeks to humiliate me now that she is a duchess.”
“You admit that you set us up?” Arabella asked, her voice steady as she held onto Harry’s hand. “You tricked us into going to that library at the same time. You made sure that we were seen by someone other than you. You arranged this.”
Lord Worcester looked down at their entwined hands. “Judging by appearances, I was not entirely wrong. But I never expected gratitude from you. You and your sisters, your brother—the lot of you—are ungrateful. You have never appreciated anything I’ve done for you.”
“You have done nothing for us but fill us with rage and fear all of our lives. You have driven Alexander away. He doesn’t even want to set foot into England because of you.”
“Do you hear this, Your Grace?” Lord Worcester snapped. “Do you hear what I had to listen to for years? Is it not bad that I was robbed of a loving wife and a son who would have doubtless been honorable and followed in my footsteps? I have to be settled with an ungrateful second son and three wretches for daughters!”
Harry stepped in front of her. “You will not speak to my wife in such a way in her own home or anywhere else. I already madeit quite clear to you that I would not tolerate such behavior. Yet, here you are again, deep in your cups.”
