Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Miss Arabella Witherington had never felt so mortified. Her day was ruined, her life was left in shambles, and just when she thought the embarrassment could not get any worse, a strange man stumbled upon her just in time to see her broken and defeated and utterly spent.
He was handsome, she saw quickly. His face, a perfect shape made up of symmetrical lines, as if he were a drawing come to life.
Dark hair too. Gray eyes that were surprisingly caring, as she might have expected a scowl to emanate from their depths because, in her experience, that was what most other men of this world would do.
Not that any of that matters!
She did not care that the handsome stranger had seen her in such a state of grief because it was not as if he knew her—or as if he could make her day any worse. What mattered most to her, and what took her breath away as she braced herself for the worst to come, was her father.
“There you are!” Lord Witherington burst onto the abbey in a way that made the storm outside pale in comparison.
“Father!” she cried, taking a step back.
Lord Witherington was a most repellent creature.
Tall and lithe like a blade, he was well into his fifties, with a sharp face and a long nose and a pointed chin that made him look like a bird of prey.
It did not help that his hairline had receded halfway up his scalp; the baldness of his spotted head added to the bird-like imagery perfectly.
But his eyes were small and cruel. His lips were thin. And where he was, anger was sure to follow.
“Good,” he spat when he saw her. “I worried that you might have fled. Perhaps you should have, for it is not as if you could embarrass me more than you…” He stopped short, only just then noticing the handsome stranger. “Who are you?”
The handsome stranger did not hesitate in the face of her father’s fury. Instead, he appeared to stand taller, his feet slightly apart, his stance like a bulwark bracing for an oncoming tidal wave.
Always, since she was a girl, Arabella had felt weak and helpless around her father.
She had no agency, no power, and was completely unable to stand up to him.
Yet, for some reason, seeing the stranger stand before her father, stepping slightly to block her from his path, made her feel… well, not quite as helpless.
In fact, she might have even said that she felt safe, as absurd as that was.
“Who I am is not important,” the stranger snarled. “I would ask that you take account of yourself, and how you think to speak to a lady. Especially in my presence.”
Her father reared back, momentarily speechless. But then, he regained his composure, and his thin lips curled. “How I speak with my own daughter is nobody’s business. In fact, I think it is best that you leave… whoever you are.”
“I think that I will stay.”
Was it so strange that Arabella felt a dull flicker of excitement at seeing someone stand up to her father? Hope, also. Such a thing was unheard of in her life, and to think that this man, whom she did not know, would do such a thing?
Who is he? Why does he care?
As for her father? Arabella often wondered if it was possible to hate someone more than she did him.
He was controlling. He was cruel. He was the type who did as he pleased, often ruining everything as a result, only to blame everyone else because he could not fathom a world where his word was not law.
Today, what had just occurred was a perfect example of this.
It was supposed to be Arabella’s wedding day.
She did not love the man whom she was set to wed, but her father had arranged it, and Arabella had no choice but to comply.
However, it was just as the ceremony was set to begin that her groom learned the truth of the arrangement, one that her father had been desperate to keep hidden until after the vows were exchanged…
and one that he knew would infuriate her betrothed.
Arabella’s father was broke; a lifetime spent gambling and drinking had such an effect.
Therefore, the dowry promised to her betrothed was a thing of myth, and when he learned that he had been tricked and lied to, he promptly denounced her and her father and stormed from the abbey in a state of fury.
The guests soon followed. Then her father chased after them, begging them to hold their tongues because his reputation was all that he cared about.
Not her! Not that his daughter was left mortified!
Worse still, as Arabella collapsed into a heap, tears falling from her face, she knew that her father would find a way to blame her for the day’s calamity.
As always, it was everyone’s fault but his.
Indeed, the expression on her father’s face as he looked at the stranger, and then when he glared a warning back at her, was proof that Arabella was right.
“I do not know who you are,” her father spoke darkly to the stranger. “Perhaps you have wandered here by mistake, no idea what it is you have found yourself in the middle of. For that reason alone, I will give you one more chance to leave. Now!”
“Father, please…” Arabella’s voice was weak.
“What I have walked into?” The stranger looked from Arabella to her father; anger for him, pity for her. “As I see it, there is a daughter in need, and a father who ought to watch his tongue before he says something that might see it removed.”
Her father balked at the threat, only to harden his expression. “That does it, I warned you…” He started toward the stranger.
“Father, no!”
“Lay one hand on me and you will wish you had not,” the stranger bellowed suddenly. He did not rear back. He did not brace. He was perfectly calm, even as his call came out like a drum. “These are my cousin’s lands, and as I do not know you, I can only assume that you are trespassing.”
Arabella’s father stopped suddenly. “Your cousin… The Duchess Marlborough?”
“The very same.”
Arabella knew the name, of course, as her father had requested the use of this abbey for the ceremony, so her name had been mentioned in passing.
However, she knew little beyond that. Her father, on the other hand, seemed to understand another meaning in the stranger’s declaration, as his face paled and his eyes widened with what could only be described as a fearful realization.
And once again, Arabella took pleasure in seeing her father so distressed.
“Your Grace!” her father cried. “I had no idea!”
Arabella gasped. A closer look at the stranger now…
no, the Duke! He must have been the Duke of Glastonbury.
She knew little of him, save for the odd rumors that she had heard.
A rake, a gambler, the worst of men! Also, as she had been told countless times, he was as handsome as the days were long. That, she found hard to disagree with.
“How could you have known?” the Duke sneered. “You were too busy berating your daughter.”
“You do not understand,” her father protested, shoving away his anger. “My daughter has embarrassed me in ways that… She has shamed me like no other.”
“That is a lie!” Arabella cried. “I did nothing of the sort.”
“Quiet!” her father snapped before turning to the Duke again. “She was set to be married, Your Grace. Lord Rochester, a name I am sure you know? All was set, only for him to change his mind at the last minute. She has done this. Always, she disappoints me.”
“That is not true!” Without thinking of what she was doing, Arabella strode to the Duke and took him by the arm.
She did not know him. She had no reason to trust him.
But for some reason, he made her feel safe in the face of her father’s accusations and anger.
“My father is the reason, Your Grace. There was nothing I could have done.”
“Lies,” her father spat. “See how effortlessly they fall from her lips.”
“Please!” She clung to the Duke’s arm. “You must believe me…”
The Duke said nothing. Instead, he looked at her hand wrapped around his arm with a mix of surprise and confusion. It took Arabella a moment too long to realize she had made a mistake, only to suddenly let go and hurriedly step back.
“Apologies.” She bowed her head. “I should not have… This is not your dilemma to solve.”
“See what she does?” her father said. “How she throws herself at…” He scoffed and shook his head. “It is no wonder that Lord Rochester turned her down.”
Arabella felt the Duke’s eyes on her. There was no anger in them, nor was there judgment. She felt his pity, and for some reason, that was even worse.
“I am sorry to hear that,” the Duke said finally. “Marriage is… hard. Daughters, too, I can only imagine. My presence here has clearly ruffled some feathers, so if you will excuse me.”
“Please…” Arabella found herself saying.
She snapped her head up and looked pleadingly at the Duke. Once he left her, she would be forced to face her father alone, and, as she knew would happen, he would be sure to punish her severely.
The Duke hesitated. He looked from her to her father; his brow furrowed in thought. And for a moment, Arabella held her breath. She did not know what he could do, but she had to believe that he could help.
Only then did she notice her father studying the Duke and the way that he looked at her. At first, her father appeared bemused, even wary of a man who stood over him in ways he was not used to. But then, a wicked smile crossed his face, and his eyes flashed with malice.
On no… Arabella’s stomach dropped because she recognized that look, and from her own personal experience, no good would come from it.
“I do find it curious, Your Grace, what it is that you are doing here in the first place.” Her father held that wicked smile as he stepped forward. “Very curious.”
“It is no concern of yours.”
“That is where you are mistaken,” her father parried. “You seem awfully concerned for my daughter, a woman whom you do not know. I cannot help but wonder why that is. Have you met before?”
The Duke scoffed. “Of course not.”