Page 11 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
He studied her a moment longer, noting the steadiness in her voice, the way she held the letter as though it carried more weight than the paper itself should allow. There was no hesitation in her now. Only resolve.
Without another word, he reached into his coat and withdrew a folded sheet of his own. Arabella’s brows lifted slightly, and the butler’s expression tightened further.
Maxwell placed the letter atop hers with quiet finality. “You will deliver both,” he said.
The butler glanced between them, then inclined his head. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Arabella looked at the added letter, then back to Maxwell. “You did not have to do that.”
“Yes, I did,” he replied.
He would not take her to London under such circumstances without explanation. He had no interest in deception where honor was concerned, regardless of how inconvenient the truth might prove.
Arabella seemed to consider that, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary before she gave a small nod. “Very well.”
The exchange ended there.
Within the hour, they were on the road. The carriage moved steadily along the damp countryside path, the remnants of the previous day’s rain still clinging to the earth in darkened patches. Inside, the space felt smaller than it ought to have been.
Arabella spoke to fill the silence, not constantly, but enough that the silence never fully settled. Her thoughts moved outward as easily as breath, each concern voiced, each possibility examined aloud. She spoke of her sister first, of how Eleanor would react, of the confusion, the anger, the questions that would follow.
“She will be furious,” Arabella said, her hands folded tightly in her lap despite the brightness she attempted to maintain. “Not without reason, I suppose. Though I should like to think she will understand, eventually.”
Maxwell did not respond.
There was no artifice in her concern. No calculated attempt to present herself in a certain way. She spoke as she felt, the words forming and leaving her before they could be tempered.
It was unusual.
“And James,” she continued, glancing briefly toward the window before returning her attention inward again. “He will take it upon himself to be offended on her behalf, though I suspect he will recover more quickly than she will.”
Maxwell shifted slightly in his seat, the movement subtle. “You place great faith in their forgiveness,” he said at last.
Arabella paused, her expression softening in a way that did not match the certainty of her earlier words. “Well, she is my sister… I love her unconditionally, and she loves me the same,” she replied.
Maxwell held her gaze for a moment, then looked away.
Arabella did not fall silent for long. “I am most displeased about Poppet,” she said at last, her tone bright but touched with genuine regret. “She did not take kindly to being left behind. I suspect she believes I have abandoned her entirely.”
Maxwell did not look at her. “She will be sent to you,” he said, his voice even. “Along with the rest of your belongings.”
“I know,” Arabella replied quickly. “It is only that she dislikes change. Though I suppose she must learn, as I must.” She paused, glancing toward the window before adding, “Do you like cats?”
“No.”
Arabella nodded slowly, as though filing the information away for later use. “That is unfortunate. She will like you regardless. She has a particular fondness for those who do not return her love.”
Maxwell grunted softly, offering no further response.
She did not seem deterred. “There is much to arrange once we arrive,” she continued, her thoughts moving forward with renewed energy. “The household, introductions, the announcement. I imagine there will be quite a stir.”
“There will be,” he said.
“And you do not mind it?”
“I will manage it.”
The simplicity of the answer did not satisfy her curiosity, though she seemed to sense that pressing further would yield little. Instead, she shifted her focus, her gaze lingering on him with open consideration.
