Chapter 9
Tragic Ironies
“Ireally hope that lady would be quite fine,” Winnie said on the ride back.
Arabella tried to look invested in the matter and vaguely nodded. The old woman had seemingly lived a happy marriage, if she were to judge by the loving way she addressed the Duke when she thought he was her beloved Peter.
“She was such a lovely lady,” Winnie persisted. “It’s a pity that she seemed so confused.”
Arabella tried to show empathy, but it was difficult to deal with other people’s problems when she had bigger ones of her own.
“I wouldn’t think,” Winnie went on, “that the Duke would make such a hasty exit.”
Upon hearing his name mentioned, Arabella’s whole body went stiff.
“Yes,” Arabella lied, “he said that he had previous obligations and that he didn’t expect the promenade to take this long.”
“If you ask me, Miss,” Winnie said with mischief, “I think the whole thing about the mistaken identity made him feel bad. Did you see his face when the old woman called him ‘dear’? It was really hilarious.”
Arabella could not share with her maid that it was not the old woman calling him ‘dear’ that drove him away.
It was she herself calling him a monster.
The moment that memory came back, Arabella felt a strange sting in her heart.
She had allowed anger to take over, and though she had every right on her side, she lost it by speaking to him that way.
It was not like her to permit feelings to dictate her actions before filtering them through logic. But when he touched her and kissed her, it was impossible for her to maintain any resemblance to reason.
The emotions raging in her were conflicting.
First, she felt guilt for speaking to the Duke in a manner unfit for a lady.
Calling someone a monster, even if they behaved despicably, was not something she had done before.
And though it was high time for the Duke to have his ways criticized, this was certainly not the way to do it.
She felt betrayed by her good manners and her always cheerful disposition, even in the most difficult of times. She could have handled everything firmly, yes, but with grace.
On the other hand, the biggest traitor was her own body.
It was still vibrating, alive and pulsating because of that kiss.
Her lips still tingled, her pulse was racing, and heat was still pooling in areas that should have long cooled down.
It was almost moronic of her to be focusing on that kiss when she was walking through the destroyed battlefield their talk had left behind.
“It was nice to see the Duke behaving so nicely,” Winnie had decided to challenge Arabella’s patience.
“To be honest, I was so scared for you when I heard that he was courting you. But not only did he not comment on your appearance, but he also defended you when others did. And it was quite touching to see him behave so tenderly toward that old woman.”
“Yes, indeed,” was all Arabella could offer without screaming her lungs out in frustration.
The worst part was that Winnie was right. The Duke was an overbearing tyrant, but after the little time she spent promenading with him, she realized that she had offended a man she did not quite understand. That was unfair, to say the least.
“We are finally home,” Winnie triumphed.
Arabella did not feel that excited. And the main reason was that she saw her father waiting at the window. At first, she was afraid that something bad had happened, but then she saw the look of anticipation on his face. Her father was waiting for her to tell him how the promenade went.
She entered the house and finally took off that ridiculous hat that added to the headache forming in her head. She was still taking off her gloves when her father appeared.
“It took you quite some while to come back,” her father commented. “Would I be correct to assume that the outing was successful?”
Arabella was so distraught that she could not even see the irony of this statement.
Successful was the last word anyone would use to describe what had happened during this promenade, from the moment the Duke appeared at her doorstep till the one when she basically drove him away into the streets of London.
But she was not ready to share with anyone the failure and shame that had taken place in the length of a few hours.
“Yes, Father, it was quite enjoyable,” Arabella lied through her teeth, like every lady of the ton did to survive, especially when the involvement of men made matters worse.
The look of relief that her father gave her was not the one Arabella expected.
She never had the chance to talk to her father, because no one questioned the decision of a parent regarding marriage, but she never quite understood why he would so easily comply with the Duke’s demands.
That relief told her that her father was not coerced into agreeing to the marriage. He was persuaded.
“I am really happy that this relationship is going well. So tell me, did you get to know the Duke better?”
The irony of this conversation just kept getting deeper. Because the correct answer to whether she had gotten to know the Duke better would have killed her father on the spot from shock. The answer, “I know what he tastes like,” was not one to be shared with one’s parents.
“Ah, I see that it is difficult for you to talk to me about this,” her father said.
For a moment, Arabella was very close to dying of shock herself, believing that somehow her father knew what had happened in the carriage and the devastation after.
“It is a conversation a girl has with her mother,” the Viscount added with a painful expression.
Arabella realized it was difficult for her father to raise two daughters after they had debuted without the support of a mother to navigate the intricacies of the ton, to protect and advise and guide.
And though Arabella was sure that even if her mother were alive, she would not talk to her about how the Duke pulled her so close to his body that she could feel every muscle rippling, she could have sought her advice on what happened after.
“I don’t want you to worry, Father. Everything is as it should be.”
Her father smiled widely again, sighing with relief. Then he looked upon her with pride and satisfaction.
“Would you care to join me in my study so we can talk a little?” He offered.
Arabella did not care to join him in his study. What she did care to do was go back to her room, take off this hideous yellow gown, go under her covers, and probably stay there for the rest of her life. Instead, she smiled widely at her father.
“Of course. There is still some time till luncheon,” she said.
She followed her father up the stairs to his study exactly like the Duke had done that fateful morning when he entered their house.
It was rare for Arabella to enter her father’s study, mostly because he was not there all that much, and even if he were, that meant he conducted serious business, and the girls would only annoy him.
“Please sit.”
Arabella took her seat, and her father sat down across from her in his favorite armchair. For a while, he looked at the fireplace, and then the tea came. Arabella served them both, wondering when this would be done so she could go and be devastated in her own privacy.
“Arabella, you’re about to be married and to have a household of your own,” her father said quite seriously. “So I would like to be frank with you now that the situation is resolved.”
Arabella didn’t know what her father was referring to, but she could hardly imagine any situation being resolved at this moment. Yet she very calmly drank her tea, waiting for her father to explain himself.
“It is not something I wanted to trouble you about,” he continued, “but for a while we have been having some serious financial problems. Some investments went awry, the crops from our land did not go very well, and that has been happening for a couple of years.”
Arabella put the cup on the saucer and looked at her father very seriously. She would rather that life did not pile up on her on the same day, but there was nothing to be done about it. At least this sudden revelation took her mind off the Duke’s touch.
“How bad a financial problem?” she dared to ask, already dreading the answer.
Her father drove his fingers through his hair, a universal sign that the situation was indeed dire. Cold sweat ran down Arabella’s spine. She was clever enough to connect the dots between her family’s bad financial situation and the Duke’s immense wealth.
“I had hoped that things would be resolved soon, but unfortunately, that is not the case.”
“Are we bankrupt?” Arabella asked with dread.
“It is not exactly that,” her father said, suddenly ashamed. “But I am not able to provide you with a substantial dowry.” He looked away in shame. “But now that issue is of no importance.”
“How exactly is it not an issue?” Arabella frowned.
“First of all, the Duke made no claims on a dowry,” he said triumphantly. “That means I can give your share to Bridget. It is as if you are giving her a gift.”
Arabella managed to maintain a neutral face at this information. Things could not get any worse.
“Then there is, of course, the matter of our family being connected to that of the Duke’s. Doors will open more easily, loans will be given gladly, and debts might even be forgiven. I will finally be able to recover and manage to raise our family’s wealth.”
It took all of her willpower not to break down into panic, hearing what exactly hung upon her marriage to the Duke. The same marriage that she had just single-handedly thwarted with an outburst.
“I know, Arabella, that it must not be easy for you to make this sacrifice. But in a way, I’m glad the Duke has chosen you. If there is anyone who can take care of this unexpected event happening to our family and turn it into a blessing, that is only you.”
Arabella tightened her fingers together on her lap until her knuckles turned white so that she would not break out crying in front of her father.
It had been quite a while since she had seen him this happy, and now she knew why.
There was a heavy burden on his shoulders that made him anxious.
Perhaps that was why he was being so strict with Bridget as well.
And now he felt relieved because, through the document that was meant as a jest, he saw a solution he had not thought about. He was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The fact was that the Duke of Albury had decided to marry one of his daughters without a dowry.
“May I retire now, Father, till luncheon?” Arabella asked, her voice shaking.
“Of course, my dear. Just one thing. Did the Duke tell you that he had made the appropriate moves to acquire the marriage certificate?”
The blood ran cold in Arabella’s veins. A marriage certificate for a marriage that was not going to happen.
“No, Father. We had quite an eventful promenade. I will tell you about it during luncheon.”
That was all she said, and she all but fled her father’s study and ran to her room. She closed the door behind her and made sure she was alone. Then and only then did she collapse onto the bed, screaming into her pillow.
She had acted on impulse, on pure emotion, and she and her family would pay the price.
Not only would the miraculous saving of one of his daughters marrying the Duke of Albury not be realized for her father, but she could not be sure that, after her behavior, the Duke would not seek retribution against her family.
Her thoughts went to how the Duke looked at her before he left. He may have wished her well and made no threats, but he had the cold look on his face that told her his pride was wounded. And men like the Duke do not let things like this slide.
Arabella may have made a terrible mistake that would cost her and her family more than she had bargained for. She felt tears of irritation streak down her cheeks. She cried until all her frustration drained her. And when she had no more tears to cry, she sat up on her bed, determined.
This was a mess. She may have had nothing to do with how this mess began, but she would make sure that it would end in the best way possible for her family.
She would have to make some bold moves and face a man she truly did not want to face, but she was not going to let others decide her fate anymore.
She would take matters into her own hands.