Page 105 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
It was not tentative. Not offered as reassurance. It was chosen deliberately, and left no question of what she had seen or what she had decided.
When she drew back, her breath remained uneven, though her expression had settled into something quieter.
Whatever this had begun as, whatever careful arrangement they had agreed upon, was no longer on the table.
And she did not pretend otherwise.
CHAPTER 24
The following morning brought relief, though Arabella knew better than to examine it too closely. She allowed herself to be carried along by the promise she had made the previous day, grateful for something ordinary to occupy her thoughts.
Shopping with Cissie and Jane required no delicate consideration, no careful weighing of words, no scrutiny of her own heart. It was a simple plan, and for once, simplicity felt merciful.
Bond Street was already lively when their carriage drew to a halt, the pavement busy with ladies and gentlemen moving from one shopfront to another. Sunlight glanced off polished glass, illuminating bolts of silk and ribbons arranged with calculated charm. The cheer of it felt borrowed, but Arabella was willing to borrow whatever she could.
Arabella stepped down with care, smoothing her gloves into place, and turned just as Jane nearly collided with her in her eagerness to be free of the carriage.
“You are late,” Jane said without heat, though her eyes flicked once, quick and measuring.
“I slept badly,” Arabella admitted, then smiled before either of them could worry over it. “But I mean to recover in the presence of ribbons and impractical expense.”
“I refuse to spend the entire morning being sensible,” Jane declared, tugging at bonnet ribbons that had already lost their discipline. “If I am to be ignored, I should at least look very fine while it happens.”
Cissie laughed softly and slipped her arm through Jane’s. “You are not ignored. You simply choose to hide behind your brothers and then complain when no one dares approach you. It is a contradiction you seem quite content to maintain.”
“I do not hide,” Jane protested, rather unconvincingly. “They simply… arrive. All four of them, looming as though I were a prize to be guarded. No gentleman would willingly face such a gauntlet.”
Arabella smiled before she thought to stop herself. The ease between them had crept in quietly. “Then perhaps the solution is to appear without them.”
Jane gave her a look of exaggerated horror. “Alone? You might as well suggest I stand in the middle of the ballroom and announce my availability.”
“That would certainly solve the difficulty,” Cissie murmured, her tone dry. “Though it might create several others.”
Arabella hesitated before they moved into the first shop together. Not long enough for either woman to remark upon it, but long enough for her to feel the pause herself.
The bell above the door chimed as they entered. Inside, the air smelled faintly of lavender and starch, the walls lined with fabrics in every shade imaginable. A shopgirl approached with a practiced smile, but Jane had already abandoned courtesy for a display of gowns, her earlier complaints temporarily forgotten.
“It’s too pretty,” Jane said, and then, after a beat, “which is precisely the problem.”
“What do you mean?” Cissie asked, coming up behind her to inspect the offending silk.
“I do not understand it,” Jane said after a moment, holding pale blue silk against herself before abandoning it with a sigh. “Even if I find the most beautiful dress, it will make no difference. I shall still stand there while every gentleman chooses someone else to admire.”
“You say that as though admiration is the only measure of success,” Arabella replied gently, though she understood the sentiment more than she wished to admit.
“It is not the only measure,” Jane conceded, “but it is a rather obvious one. I should like, for once, to be noticed without the assistance of my brothers’ interference.”
Cissie glanced at her with sympathy. “You think too much of what others see, Jane. I would gladly exchange places with you if I could. My difficulty lies in being seen far too often and by far too many.”
Jane turned, surprised. “You would not.”
“I would,” Cissie insisted, her voice quiet but certain. “You have not endured my mother’s observations, or my aunt deciding that one glance from a gentleman deserves the same attention as a treaty.”
Arabella watched them with quiet interest. Jane wanted attention without guardianship attached to it, while Cissie seemed ready to bargain away attention altogether. Their honesty should have made Arabella feel like an outsider. Instead, it made the room feel safer.
“And you?” Jane asked suddenly, turning to Arabella with curiosity. “You have been very quiet. Surely you have some grievance to share, if only to complete the picture.”
Arabella hesitated, her fingers brushing over a length of fabric without truly seeing it. She had not intended to speak of it—not here, not now. Yet the openness between them drew something from her that she had kept carefully contained.
