Chapter 4 #2
Charlotte’s eyes glittered. “Tell me, Eleanor. Does His Grace prefer his women obedient? Or does he prefer them–” she paused, pretending to search for the right word, “–desperate?”
Eleanor’s stomach tightened.
Charlotte leaned forward, voice lowering. “Perhaps he enjoys a wife who will do anything to keep him. Perhaps he will tire of you quickly once he realizes you have nothing to offer but–”
“Stop.” Arabella’s voice cut through the room like a whip.
Charlotte turned, surprised again. “What did you say?”
Arabella held her gaze. “Stop speaking about the Duke of Langford as though he is some gullible man you can insult behind his back.”
Charlotte’s mouth curved. “Oh? And why not?”
Arabella’s chin lifted. “Because if His Grace heard you, he would not be amused.”
Charlotte’s smile faltered, almost imperceptibly.
Arabella pressed on, voice calmer now, controlled.
“You are very brave when you believe no one powerful is listening. But the Duke of Langford is not Father. He will not indulge you. He will not excuse you. And I suspect he would find it… unwise to allow someone who disrespects his duchess to remain under his roof.”
Charlotte went very still.
Eleanor watched her half-sister’s throat work as she swallowed.
For the first time, Charlotte looked uncertain.
It was only a flicker. A shadow.
But it was there.
Charlotte’s cheeks colored, then paled. “Do not be ridiculous.”
“Am I?” Arabella asked softly. “Our sister will marry him within the week, and what is said behind closed doors, between a married couple, well…”
Charlotte pushed back from the table, rising quickly. “You think you can frighten me with a man you have never met?”
Arabella’s expression did not change. “No. I think you frighten yourself.”
Charlotte’s hands trembled as she smoothed her robe. “This house – is mine. You live here by my grace and good will.”
Eleanor’s gaze lifted. “It is Father’s house.”
Charlotte flinched. “You do not think he would turn you out in a moment if I were to ask of it?”
“You are just jealous that we were here before you,” Arabella said, without missing a beat.
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed, furious. “Enjoy your duke,” she snapped, voice strained. “If he truly is what they say, you will regret every moment of it.”
She swept from the room, robe trailing behind her like a banner of retreat.
The door slammed.
Silence followed.
Eleanor stared at the closed door for a long moment, her breath shallow.
Arabella exhaled shakily and turned toward her. “I am sorry.”
Eleanor blinked. “For what?”
“For not doing that sooner,” Arabella whispered.
Eleanor’s chest tightened. “Arabella…”
Arabella’s eyes shimmered. “I cannot stop thinking about it. About what he said. A week.”
Eleanor forced herself to remain steady. “I know.”
“You do not know anything about him,” Arabella said, words rushing now as if she could not contain them. “He could be kind, or he could be… he could be cold. He could be cruel just like the rumors paint him to be. He looked at Father like Father was something he could crush.”
Eleanor remembered that gaze. The way James had stepped between them, effortless and menacing.
Arabella’s voice dropped. “He could be dangerous.”
Eleanor swallowed. “So could any husband.”
“That is not reassuring,” Arabella said, tears slipping free. “Eleanor, I feel–” Her throat worked. “I feel as though I have pushed you into it.”
Eleanor crossed the room at once and took her sister’s hands. “You did not.”
“I did,” Arabella insisted. “You did it for me.”
Eleanor squeezed her hands. “And I would do it again.”
Arabella shook her head fiercely. “I do not want you to.”
Eleanor’s throat tightened. She forced a smile she did not fully feel. “You are allowed to want things. You are allowed to dream of love. That is not a crime.”
Arabella’s breath hitched. “And you? What are you allowed to want?”
The question struck deeper than Eleanor expected.
She opened her mouth, then closed it.
She thought of the duke’s voice in the hall, calm and final. Of his nearness when he spoke of choices that did not feel like choices at all. Of the way her skin had flushed, traitorous, when he stepped too close.
It had been power, yes. But it had been something else too. Something she did not yet have a name for.
“I want you safe,” Eleanor said at last.
Arabella’s gaze fell to their clasped hands. “And when you leave?”
Eleanor’s breath caught.
“When you become a duchess,” Arabella whispered, “you will not be here.”
Eleanor’s grip tightened because that was the fear she had refused to speak aloud.
She would be gone, and Arabella would be left behind in this house with Charlotte and their father.
Eleanor forced herself to smile, though it trembled at the edges. “I will find a way.”
Arabella looked up. “Promise?”
Eleanor’s throat tightened, the word lodged there.
Because she did not know if she could keep it.
And as the house settled into uneasy quiet around them, Eleanor realized with sudden clarity that becoming the Duchess of Langford may save Arabella’s future, but it might also cost Eleanor her only family.