Chapter 7 #2
She sensed his eyes on her. She felt him watching her and was sure he saw how uncomfortable and uncertain she was. All it would take from him was a word of reassurance or comfort, anything to give her hope.
Typically, he gave her no such thing.
“Let us be about it, then.” The carriage came to a sudden stop, the doors opened, and he climbed out. Then, surprisingly, he turned and offered her his hand.
She looked at the hand as if unsure what to do with it. He cleared his throat, appearing irritated. Slowly and carefully, she took his hand, and he helped her down. Just like at the ceremony, his touch was cold, and it hardly made her believe he cared for her at all.
Worse still, as soon as she was down from the carriage, he let her go, turned, and walked toward the manor.
With no choice, she followed, forever being led about by men who had power over her.
She followed him inside the manor. It was dark inside. Empty and silent. Arabella looked around, confused. “Is Timothy not here?”
The Duke glanced at her, as if her comment confused him. “He is, but you will see him tomorrow.”
“Oh…”
“Are you… Are you looking forward to getting to know him better?”
“I promised that I would,” she said. “He seems like a bright child, and I am sure we will get along.”
It was subtle, but she could have sworn that she saw the Duke smile at that. In fact, now that she thought about it, the only time that he ever showed anything close to warmth was when speaking of Timothy.
“As I am sure you will.” He nodded once and then started toward the staircase. “This way.”
Arabella sighed, frustrated that he was acting so coldly, while having no idea if there was anything she could do about it. Or if she even should. Did he want a relationship? Did he want to get to know her? Or was his only concern his nephew?
She followed him in silence as they ascended the staircase. And that silence stretched as he led her down the twisting hallways. Each window they passed showed night approaching, and it was only when they came to a sudden stop that Arabella realized where they were.
Her eyes widened when she looked at the double doors, intricately carved, and she had no doubt what lay beyond.
Her heart began to race. She took a quick glance at her husband, trying to read his thoughts, but as always, he was impossible to understand.
Is he… Is this… Surely not?
While Arabella was new to the concept of married life, she knew one thing to be true above all the rest. Regardless of how the marriage came to pass, the night of the wedding was a most important event, and one that all brides feared and looked forward to in equal measure.
She had been so concerned about everything else that she had not given it any thought! Now that it had come, she was struck by a different type of fear… and dare she say, something else.
Her heart raced. She glanced at her husband and looked away. She felt him watching, and she could only wonder what was on his mind.
“These are your quarters,” he said to her, indicating the closed door. “I trust they will be to your liking.”
“I am sure they will be.”
“Again, if you need anything at all, send for either Mrs. Robertson or me. This is your home now, and what you wish for, you will have.”
“I understand…” She forced herself to look at him, not sure what her expression showed, as she was not sure what she felt.
But she looked past the coldness. She saw through the glower.
And she focused on what she had first noticed about him last week.
Handsome, yes. Powerful and commanding in ways that made her tremble.
Also, there was that sense of safety—a belief that he had her best interests at heart—she had to believe it!
And then she thought of his words, his insistence that she do her duties as a duchess.
Is this what he meant?
Nothing was said for a moment. The silence stretched on.
Arabella’s body trembled, and she pushed down her fear, not knowing what she would say when he pointed out the obvious, knowing that she would be unable to deny him.
Stranger still, for the first time, that did not bring the fear that she expected.
“If there is nothing else, I will be going,” the Duke said suddenly.
“What? Where?” she blurted.
“To London,” he said simply. “I have business to attend.”
She blinked back her surprise. “Tonight?”
“That is correct.”
She was not so much angry as surprised. And while she should have felt relief, that was a mere whimper compared to the crushing reality that his intentions revealed. Did he even care about their marriage? Did he want anything else from this union? Clearly, he did not.
“You scheduled business on our wedding night?” she asked, unable to keep the harshness from her tone.
“Does that concern you?”
“No, it is strange,” she said. “I thought… Should we not…” Her cheeks colored pink, and she looked away.
The Duke observed her with a slight smirk on his lips. “This marriage is only for convenience, Arabella. I thought I made that clear.”
“You did.”
“Then what is the problem?”
So many things!
She did not even want to spend the night with him! What she wanted was a mere suggestion that the marriage which she had entered would not see her descend into a state of loneliness and despair. Even if she was free, what good was that if she was alone and unhappy?
Worse still, she knew that nothing she said would make a difference. The Duke had not saved her, as he claimed. He had simply captured her, carting her off to a new prison, and Arabella, the fool, had blindly followed along.
My father was right…
“There is no problem,” she said coldly, glaring at him, and wanting him to see it. “None at all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Would you care if there was?”
He looked at her, his brow furrowed. No doubt he saw her anger, and she wondered if she suspected the reason. “No, actually. I would not.”
“Good, because I am fine. In fact, I am happy that you are leaving. It will give me a night to myself. One of many to come, I am sure.”
He exhaled sharply from his nose, a flash of anger passing behind his eyes, smothered quickly so that he returned to his same detached self. “I will see you tomorrow, Arabella. And as I said, if you need anything—”
“You will be the last person I ask,” she cut him off. “Seeing as you will not be here.”
“Good night,” he said sharply. “Sleep well. Hopefully, tomorrow, you will be in a better mood than this one.” With that said, the Duke stepped around her and strode down the hallway, not once looking back.
Arabella watched him go, glaring at him, letting her anger show so that she felt it burn hot and fiery and fierce.
Deep down, however, she knew that the anger she felt was not saved for the Duke. She wanted it to be that way because it would be easy.
Ultimately, and as hard as it was to admit, she was the one toward whom her anger was directed. She had been given a choice; she made it, and now she had to regret it.
Free, perhaps, but lonely, and with no sense that her husband or anyone cared. She admitted with a depressed groan and a growing pit in her stomach that such freedom was hardly worth the cost. Just as she knew that this marriage, whatever it might have been, was already over before it even began.