Arabella grinned. “I did not mean to scare you. I thought it was perhaps my sisters coming back.”
“No,” Mabel said. “It’s for His Grace. I do not think he will be back until this evening.”
Arabella nodded. “He is taking supper with his uncle tonight. I intend to dine on my own. I’ll take the letter to his study—it’s on the way to the music room anyhow,” she offered.
She had had no intentions of going into the music room, of course, but she wanted to see what this letter contained. She wasn’t going to break the seal and read it, of course, but she wanted to see if there was any hint of who might’ve sent it or what it was about.
Just because she and Harry were getting along better did not mean that she had entirely abandoned her efforts to find out why her husband was always so secretive. There were still more things she didn’t know, obstacles that prevented him from letting her know him fully.
Mabel handed her the letter and excused herself.
Arabella walked toward the study as she examined the letter, which was addressed to Harry. Flipping it over, she saw that the wax seal bore no crest.
Curious, she pushed the edges together so she could peer inside. At the top, where the address should have been, were the words‘About Helen.’
“Helen? Who is Helen?”
Before she had a chance to ponder any more, footsteps sounded outside, and Arabella placed the letter down, not wanting to be caught snooping—again.
CHAPTER 26
On the morning of the ball, Arabella was halfway down the stairs when she heard that Harry had returned from town. She beamed at him when she saw him, and to her delight, he returned the same smile.
“Where are you coming from in such a hurry?” he asked.
“From my chamber,” she replied, a touch of mischief in her voice. “So?”
He looked at her, confusion evident on his visage. She realized then that he had forgotten. They had spoken about attending the ball together, and he had told her to remind him on the morning of the ball so he would know whether or not he would be busy that day.
“Lady Morley’s ball,” she reminded him, trying not to sound exasperated.
“Ah, yes.” He sighed. “I do have to beg your pardon, my dear. I will not be able to attend. My uncle is coming to have tea with us, and I believe he intends to stay the evening. I’m afraid I must entertain him with dinner, rather than going to a ball.”
He sighed again, and Arabella felt as though this might well be the truth. She had gathered over the last few weeks that Harry did not care for his uncle very much, though she wasn’t certain why.
She hadn’t met Richard more than a handful of times, and even then, it had been in passing.
Suddenly, her mouth dropped open. Had her husband just said that his uncle was coming here to have tea with them? As in, the both of them?
“Am I included in this tea?” she asked, astonished.
“I am afraid so,” Harry replied with a grimace. “My uncle says it is about time that he got to know you better.”
She caught the undertone in his voice and knew at once that he did not think this was a good idea. Arabella herself wasn’t certain if she wanted to spend time with Richard. He always struck her as severe and judgmental, not unlike her father, though without the obvious attachment to alcohol. She imagined her father would be something like Richard if he weren’t in his cups constantly.
“Very well. When is he coming? Should I cancel my plans for the ball?” she asked, although she truly did not want to. She had promised her sisters that she would be there, for the presence of the Duchess of Sheffield would certainly draw attention to them.
To her relief, Harry shook his head. “No, do not fret. He will be here in an hour or so. We will have tea, and then you can excuse yourself, saying you are going to your ball. He does not expect you to be here all evening. He knows about Lady Morley’s ball.”
Relief washed over Arabella, though she felt a little guilty for leaving Harry behind.
“Are you quite certain you cannot get out of it?” she asked, hopeful. “I want us to go to the ball together.”
His eyes darkened, and he looked past her, out the window. He was as difficult to read as ever. Granted, he was kinder, softer, and had sought out her company over the last few days, which had delighted her. Yet, he still kept some distance between them, which she could not quite comprehend.
“I am certain. But perhaps tomorrow evening we could take a stroll through the garden? The moon should be full and the stars easily seen. What do you say?”
“Yes,” she said, delighted now.
