Chapter 4
Chapter Four
The small antechamber’s door swung open suddenly, and a woman burst in—though Arabella did not recognize her, she knew instantly who it was.
She was older than the Duke, closer to fifty by Arabella’s guess.
Tall like him, with proud, sharp features that gave her a no-nonsense look.
Dark hair that was graying. A slight hunch that did not diminish her presence.
And dark blue eyes—fiercely intelligent and commanding—which immediately told Arabella that this woman was not one to be spoken down to or bullied.
Indeed, even the Duke stepped back as she entered. When Arabella’s father hurried in behind her, Arabella noticed he kept his distance, continuously glancing at the woman with worry, as if she had already put him in his place, and he wanted to avoid it happening again.
I rather like this woman…
“There you are!” The Dowager turned on the Duke and put her hands on her hips. “What is going on here?”
“Cousin, it is lovely of you to join us,” the Duke said plainly.
“Do not cousin me,” she snapped. “There I was, enjoying the party which I had spent weeks organizing, only for this one…” She pointed at Arabella’s father, who winced. “To appear as if from nowhere, informing me that my dear cousin had become engaged.”
“Ah, so you received my message.”
“Impossible, I said,” she continued, hands still on her hips.
“I saw my cousin less than an hour ago, at which time we had a rather enlightening conversation.” She widened her eyes at him.
“As I came to understand it, the idea of marriage was such a horrific concept to you that I might do better squeezing blood from a stone rather than convincing you of its worth.”
“But you did convince me,” the Duke said with what had to be humor, even if it did not sound as if he was joking.
Her expression was stone. “So, it is true?”
“It is.”
“And how did this happen, exactly? How did you go from harboring a complete rejection of the concept to becoming betrothed? I feel as if I am losing my mind, Caspian!”
“I can answer that.” Arabella’s father stepped forward. “My poor daughter was left at the altar in a state of disgrace, and His Grace, seeing a lady in need was kind enough to—”
“I was not speaking to you,” the Dowager snapped at Arabella’s father.
Arabella’s father cowered back at once.
Arabella watched the interaction with a thrill that burned hot. Having grown up under her father’s strict control, having no powerful women in her life, it was oddly satisfying to see him so thoroughly beaten by little more than a sharp tone.
How can I become like her?
Even the Duke, as assured and confident a man as Arabella had ever met, was nowhere near as dominating in the face of his cousin’s tirade. If anything, he looked properly chastised, almost embarrassed to find himself in such a situation.
“It was not something that I planned, Penelope,” he said with a deep sigh, his expression softening, even pleading. “You know well how I do not wish to wed… just as you know why I must.”
“So, what? You thought to marry the first lady you came across?”
“Of course not,” he said. “As Lord Witherington was just saying, his daughter had been left at the altar, desperate and facing a life of scandal for reasons that were not her fault. I did not…” His eyes flicked toward Arabella, considering her, before looking away.
“I thought to do the right thing.” He drew himself up.
“I thought to help because she needed it, and sometimes that is reason enough.”
The Dowager leaned back as if she had been slapped. “Help? You or her?”
“Why not both?” he said. “And rather than working yourself into a state of delirium, perhaps you should see this for what it is. A good thing, Penelope. For everyone.” He looked at his cousin then, something passing behind his eyes that Arabella did not understand.
“Yes, well, we shall see…” the Dowager said with a click of her tongue, which had the Duke looking even more unsure.
Arabella did not expect it, but she suddenly felt a pang of guilt in her chest for how she had spoken to the Duke.
It was so unlike her! At two-and-twenty, Arabella had spent her entire life being pushed around and controlled by her father.
She had no agency. She had no voice. She certainly did not have freedom to decide what she wanted and how she wanted it.
Such a way of living was completely beyond her realm of understanding.
So, when the Duke had come to her, Arabella saw a chance she could not afford to miss. What she was supposed to do was simply ask him what he wanted from her, while making it clear that she did not want to find herself in another situation similar to the one she had grown up in.
What had happened instead of that…
In truth, I am not even sure how I managed to speak that way to him.
Looking at the Duke now, Arabella had a feeling why she was able to stand up to him, as she had.
He was obviously intimidating. He was clearly someone to be feared and respected.
But he had also stood up for her, saved her, and shown her that her father was not nearly the all-powerful menace she had always believed.
That gave her confidence. The Duke… He gave her confidence and a way out of her old life. And how had she repaid him? Arabella grimaced with shame, wishing she had been a tad more tactful.
“We shall see,” the Duke said as he stepped around his cousin and made toward Arabella. Arabella’s eyes widened, worry taking her, certain the Duke was going to put her in her place.
In the end, he did no such thing.
He moved beside her and rested a hand on the small of her back. It was a gentle touch, but it felt unexpectedly comforting, even warm and inviting. Once more, it reminded Arabella why she felt the way she did around him—that he was not someone to hate or fear. He had saved her.
So, as he stood with her, she looked up and smiled, wanting him to see that she was truly grateful. Also, she took some pleasure in seeing her father glaring.
“Penelope, I would like for you to meet Miss Witherington, my betrothed.”
Arabella offered her smile to the Dowager, even as her chest tightened.
The Dowager approached her, flicking her dark eyes over Arabella in assessment.
And while Arabella felt a pang of worry, with the Duke there, she knew there was no need.
Despite everything, she was sure that he would protect her.
“Miss Witherington, is it?” the Dowager asked cooly.
“Y—yes,” she stammered, doing her best to look confident and brave. “It is lovely to meet you.”
“Tell me, Miss Witherington…” A final roaming of her eyes and then she held them on Arabella’s face. “Do you play whist?”
Arabella blinked, caught completely by surprise at the question. “I… whist?”
“The card game,” she said simply. “Do you play?”
“I do…” She glanced at her father, who appeared just as confused as she was. “My father taught me, in fact. I am rather good. Even better than he.” She smirked at her father, which saw his face color red as if in anger.
“Good,” the Dowager said, and just like that, the coldness of her posturing and the coolness of her purposeful stare melted away.
In their place was a warm smile, a complete transformation from the woman who had stormed into the room moments earlier.
“Timothy will be delighted. I know the game is his favorite.”
“Timothy?” Arabella frowned. “Who is—”
“I suppose there is nothing I can do to change your mind,” the Dowager cut him off as she turned and swept toward the door.
“Not that I would, mind you.” She reached the open door, turned, and shook her head.
But she laughed too, a smile taking her face.
“As absurd as this day has turned out to be, I do wonder if you are correct in your assumption, Caspian.”
He snorted. “Admitting such a thing was surely a trial for you.”
“I am not as stubborn as that,” the Dowager said. “I can see reason when it stares me in the face, and this marriage…” She nodded her head. “Yes, I think it will do nicely.”
“Speaking of which!” Arabella’s father stepped forward again. “We ought to discuss the particulars. Dates. Locations. Who to invite. Not to mentions the cost.”
“Oh, will you stop your posturing?” the Dowager sighed. “It is decided, so there is no need to beat your chest as if you have anything to add.”
“How dare you!”
“Save it for someone who cares for your opinion,” the Dowager scoffed.
Beside her, Arabella heard the Duke chuckle.
She looked up, frowned, and he rolled his eyes.
It was a small thing, but it told Arabella that he was not nearly so commanding and controlling as he first appeared.
And that he was willing to be spoken to that way by his cousin, a woman…
I will need to speak to him again, to apologize, and hopefully show him that I am not nearly as ungrateful as he probably assumes.
They stood together, his hand still on her back, and Arabella felt more confident, more at peace, and more certain of her future than she ever had before.
“Caspian!” The Dowager was once again addressing the Duke. “Are you organizing the marriage license?”
“I hope to have it arranged in a few days,” he said.
“Perfect,” she said. “The ceremony will happen here, I think…” She looked around the room. “That way, the breakfast can be hosted at my estate.”
“Now, just one moment!” Arabella’s father spoke up again. “I ought to be the one who—”
“Until then, what do you say we take a trip?” the Dowager said over Arabella’s father. “No doubt, Miss Witherington is curious about the man she will one day call her husband. And you must be curious about her.”
“What are you suggesting?” the Duke asked.
“Timothy has been sent to Glastonbury with Miss White,” she said.
“Oh good, you found him,” the Duke said with a sigh.
The Dowager smirked as if with amusement. “He was hiding in the morning room, but yes, we found him.”
The Duke chuckled at that.
“Now that Timothy is on his way home,” the Dowager continued. “I would think that you might wish to introduce them before the big day. And as the day is still young, why not now? Miss Witherington ought to see her new home, as she ought to understand what she is getting herself into.”
“Timothy?” Arabella asked again. “Who is Timothy?”
“Oh dear,” the Dowager said. “You did not tell her?”
“She will learn in time.” The Duke stepped forward and turned. “Miss Witherington, if you will follow me. My cousin will escort us, meaning that…” He glared at Arabella’s father. “You are done here.”
Her father steamed. “This is highly absurd! I have every right—”
“To keep your mouth shut,” the Duke snarled. “Miss Witherington, follow me.” He glared one more time at Arabella’s father and then strode from the room.
“Come, dear,” the Dowager said to her with a warm smile. “Let us get this started. No reason to wait around.”
Arabella hesitated. She thought of checking with her father, to ask if she was allowed to follow the Duke.
Only, she realized with a thrill, that she no longer had to.
She was not his to control, she was not his to push around, and the look on his face when he came to realize this…
Perhaps this marriage will not be nearly so bad as I thought.
With that, she walked out of the small room, right past her father, stepping into a new life she did not know and was not sure what to expect. One thing was certain, though: it could not possibly be worse than the life she had left behind.