Chapter 2 #2
“Where did you find this?” Oswald asked. “I was supposed to have a copy too, but I lost it many years ago.”
“I am here to enforce the parameters of this contract,” the Duke delivered coldly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I am here to claim what you have signed over,” the Duke said, bothered that he had to repeat himself.
Oswald broke down laughing, his whole body shaking, head thrown back.
“It is a very well laid prank, Your Grace.” Oswalt kept laughing. “My compliments.”
Arabella studied the Duke and realised that he was not finding the situation entertaining as her father did. His look said that he was earnestly there to deal with the contract.
“I can assure you, Lord Lambourne,” the Duke’s voice went darker if that was even possible, “I am not jesting. Should we discuss the details of the contract somewhere else?”
The heavy and imperative tone in the Duke’s voice must have sobered up the Viscount because now he was looking at the younger man with a deep frown.
“I do not seem to understand, Your Grace,” Oswald said. “What is there to discuss?”
The Duke lowered his chin and glared at the older man, seriously frustrated that he had to explain himself. Arabella looked from her father to the Duke and then to Bridget and realised that no one was really on the same page.
“You see your signature at the lower part of this document, don’t you, Lord Lambourne?”
“Clear as day, and if I concentrate hard enough, I might even remember the day I signed this with your father.”
“Well then, I don’t see what the confusion is.”
“The confusion is that this is a contract that states that Gerald Warren, that is you by the way, can marry either of my daughters.”
If there was a human manifestation of how ice would look, then there would be none better than the Duke right at that moment.
The exact opposite was happening to Arabella.
She looked at her father, tried to grasp what had just come out of his mouth, and felt a burn on her chest as the words slowly sank in.
Her heart thumped in her chest, and a tingling feeling signaling danger crept up her spine.
“Lord Lambourne, I fail to see why you are repeating the content of the contract to me. It seems that the one being confused is you.”
“I am not confused about what is written in the contract, Your Grace. I am simply trying to understand if you are misinterpreting the purpose of the contract.”
“It is quite irritating that we have to go in circles. The contract says that I can marry either of your daughters. I am suggesting we move to the study to discuss the matter.”
“When your father and I signed that contract, you were eleven years old, and my youngest was two years old.”
The Duke merely blinked at the information. Arabella felt her jaw drop. What was taking place in her drawing room was beyond any comprehension. She couldn’t tell if the Duke was jesting or, worst case scenario, he was being serious.
“The fact remains,” the Duke hissed, openly irritated, “that you signed the contract, and now, I have come to collect.”
“It was a jest,” Oswald insisted. “A foolish, brandy-soaked jest between old friends. Ill-considered, yes, but a jest nonetheless.”
Arabella felt relieved that her father realised that such a document could not be binding.
She was barely two years old at the time, and even if parents still controlled who their daughters might marry, the bride’s consent was still a variant taken into consideration.
At two, she could barely utter a few words when this contract was signed, let alone allow a piece of paper to dictate who she or her sister was supposed to marry.
This was all a great misunderstanding that would be resolved quickly for sure, and it would make a great story to tell in the future.
“I do not see it the same way that you do, Lord Lambourne.” The Duke’s voice sliced through her hopes like a butcher’s knife. “You made a promise to my father, you took your time signing a document to solidify that promise, and now, you are trying to brush it off. I am not so keen on doing that.”
The room went absolutely still. If a pin were dropped on the carpet, it would echo against the walls.
The Duke’s voice, right at that moment, lived up to the ruthless rumour that followed him everywhere.
He was not there to play, to joke, to laugh, or display any other human emotion in general.
It was clear that if his terms were not met, he would be relentless in his retribution.
The only reaction that broke that cold wall came from Bridget.
She started shaking beside Arabella, her hands cold even if she still held them.
When Arabella glanced into the eyes of her sister, Bridget looked back with a look of utter fear and shock.
She was, after all, the eldest daughter.
If the Duke was there to enforce that ridiculous contract, she would be the one to honour it.
Arabella smiled at her sister, reassuring her that such a thing would not come to pass. The document had no legal footing; it was impossible for the Duke to lay such a claim on her family with that useless piece of paper. She was still looking at her sister when she heard her father.
“Perhaps you’re right, Your Grace. We should take this up to my study and discuss further.”
Arabella inhaled in shock. Her father seemed almost defeated. Granted, the Duke was quite formidable and menacing, but that didn’t mean that he could bully them into submission, especially regarding such a serious matter.
As the two men turned to walk out of the drawing room, Arabella stood up, her back straight, her shoulders thrown back, chin up, and eyes blazing.
“I do not think there is anything to be discussed,” she said in a firm voice.
Behind her, Bridget squeezed her hand as if afraid that something bad would happen to her sister. She was half right. If Arabella didn’t speak up now, something bad would fall upon their heads.
And that something slowly turned his massive back and fixed those green orbs into hers. The world tilted, and Arabella felt as if she had been hit hard in the chest. All of the intensity that that cold gaze held was now directed solely at her.
It took all of her experience dealing with the hyenas of the ton to withstand his look.
And still, she took one little step back.
Because that man looked at her with a calculating, measured look, the same one a beast has when weighing if the prey was worth the wait.
And it seemed that in his eyes, she was easy prey since he turned fully to her and approached.
“You must be Miss Arabella.” His voice was low and slow, like he had all the time in the world.
Right at the moment, Arabella questioned whether she really had to be who she was because if she wasn’t, then she could just flee.
“I am,” she said decisively instead.
“So, what are you trying to say, Miss Arabella?”
“I am not trying. I am saying to you that I will not allow you to marry my sister.”
A long pause. The room went still. Arabella could hear her sister inhaling in shock and see her father pinned to the floor. But all her focus was on the Duke himself. His face remained impassive for a few seconds, blinking slowly, his look assessing her.
Then he threw his head back and laughed. Arabella froze. There was nothing warm or gleeful in the way the Duke laughed. It was the same way a wolf would howl into the air. Cold, soulless, and intimidating.
“How very interesting,” the Duke said, his focus back to her.
It was that moment that Arabella realized that she may have miscalculated the situation gravely. She used her experience navigating the ton, but this man played with a whole different set of rules. Rules that he imposed.
The gigantic man took one step closer, not too close, just right at the edge of propriety, and leaned in. His green eyes captivated hers with their cruelly amused look. Her heart could withstand only so much. It skipped a beat and started racing right after.
“It is almost endearing that you think that you can or cannot allow me to do anything, Miss Arabella.”
That is all he said before following her father out of the drawing room leaving Arabella with the devastating notion that she just provoked forces she couldn’t control.