Chapter 28 #2
That combination of her words and her tone was as if a wall was erected between them. He looked at her as if he didn’t expect that welcome. And what exactly did he expect, that she would joke and smile as she did before?
“Arabella, you cannot go,” he said from where he was standing.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” she said firmly, her spine straight. “I believe we have agreed that I will have freedom of movement. That we would basically stay out of each other’s way. I cannot possibly stay more out of your way than visiting my grandmother in Wales.”
“Perhaps I didn’t phrase that correctly. What I mean to say,”
“I will not allow you to forbid me from going where I want.”
“You have a really nasty habit of not letting me finish what I want to say,” he said, both with mirth and a hint of bitterness.
“It is good, then, that I am taking my nasty habits and taking them far away from you,” Arabella ground her jaw.
“No, it is not good. It’s simply not working for me.”
“And you presume I would have any interest in what exactly works for you?”
“Arabella, if you let me explain, I will tell you,”
“I believe we said all we had to say,” Arabella reminded him. “And it was all over.”
Gerald looked at her as if reality had dawned upon him.
He looked down, gathering his thoughts. Arabella frowned upon seeing him so indecisive, struggling almost. He was always so confident when talking to others, and yet he seemed lost. Maybe it was because he expected her to be obedient and follow him back. He made the wrong bet.
“I need to show you something,” Gerald finally said.
He reached into his pocket and got out a piece of paper. He looked at her and extended the paper. Arabella was not expecting that and, honestly, was not quite sure what to expect at this point.
Curiosity, impatience, and the fact that she was barely holding it together without breaking down and crying made her take one step closer and take that paper in her hands. She looked at it. It was a deed to a summer house in Brighton.
“What exactly am I supposed to do with it?” Arabella asked, sincerely perplexed.
“I… I bought this house.”
“And you rode from London to here, interrupting my journey to Wales, to inform me of an acquisition of real estate? Am I reading this correctly?”
“I have never been to Brighton.” He suddenly seemed too nervous.
“Neither have I,” Arabella said politely but quite irritated. “I hear it is lovely during the summer. Would that be all, Your Grace?”
“I am told the house is beautiful during the summer as well. It has a view of the sea.”
“Splendid.” Arabella was at her wits’ end.
“I thought so too,” he said enthusiastically.
“Perfect. I should hope that you have a very good time in Brighton, Your Grace. Can we now carry on to our destinations?”
Gerald seemed absolutely defeated, and she couldn’t understand why. Why was he here, giving her a piece of paper with land that he had bought? When he looked up at her again, his look was overwhelmed, almost crushed.
“Do you really want to go to Wales, Arabella?”
The question hit its mark. Arabella suddenly busied herself with her gloves, straightening them while they were already straightened. Underneath the silk, she felt the metal of her wedding band, and it was as if it were mocking her.
“I am asking you, Arabella,” Gerald repeated the question and took one step closer to her. “Do you really want to go to Wales?”
“I know I don’t want to stay in London,” Arabella looked up straight into his eyes, cold as ice.
She would not give him the satisfaction of breaking down in front of him and crying. She had no idea why, but she wanted him out as soon as possible.
“Then don’t go to London,” he said with an enigmatic smile.
Arabella fought the urge to hurl something in his stupid face.
It might have been more prudent if she had acted upon those instincts.
Maybe her fate would have been avoided if she had just thrown one of the six cups of ice cream that she had eaten the first time they went out together.
Then she wouldn’t be standing here, ready to cry, while he was smiling smugly at her in a joke that she didn’t get.
“Are you running some kind of coach services, Your Grace, and you have alternative options to offer me?”
“No, but I do have property in Brighton,” he pointed at the paper she was holding.
Arabella lost some of her composure and just pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as if she had to deal with a toddler.
“I do have a long way to go, Your Grace, and I do not appreciate conversations that go round and round without making any sense, so if you would like to make a point, I would gladly hear it,” Arabella said with her saccharine fake smile. “Just make it quick and precise.”
Gerald straightened his back, too, and took one step closer. He probably did that on purpose because now she would have to crane her neck in order to look into his eyes, and she had no intention of backing down.
“What I am proposing, Your Grace,” he said softly, “is that we visit our estate in Brighton.”
She studied his face, trying to find if he had gone completely mad or was just toying with her. Both options were quite inconvenient for her.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace?” she said, for lack of a better answer.
“I have a property in Brighton. The season is over.”
“The sun comes up from the east and sets in the west,” Arabella offered.
“Excuse me?”
“I thought we were just stating irrelevant facts,” Arabella said, annoyed. “I thought I might contribute so we could end this conversation as soon as possible.”
“But this is not irrelevant, Arabella. You want to take a trip, I am offering an alternative scenario.”
She stared at him blankly. He shifted uneasily. Arabella was nervous too. The Duke was never uneasy.
“Is something the matter?” Arabella asked. “Have you had any troubles with your family?”
She was genuinely concerned. Last time they spoke, she had just showered his half-brother with soup. The same half-brother who was trying to frame him in a scandal. Seeing her genuine concern, Gerald drew even closer.
“Do you want to go to Brighton with me?”