Page 118 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
“Return at once,” she said quietly. “Fetch His Grace. Do not delay.”
The maid nodded, relief flickering across her face before she turned and hurried away, her pace uneven but determined.
Arabella’s attention returned to Covington.
He had not moved, though his gaze flickered briefly in the direction the maid had gone, as though registering the implication of Eleanor’s instruction. Something like irritation crossed his features, though it did not fully settle before it was replaced again by that same strange intensity.
“You should not be out,” he said, his voice lowering now, though the urgency remained. “Not exposed like this.”
Arabella felt the faintest stir of unease, though she did not allow it to show. “I am not exposed, my lord. I am walking with my sister, as is entirely proper.”
“Proper?” he repeated, the word carrying an edge she had not heard from him before. “You think propriety will protect you?”
Eleanor took another step forward, her position now unmistakably between them. “That will be enough,” she said, her voice firm. “You have said quite enough for one morning.”
Covington’s attention shifted to her then, though it did not linger long. “You do not understand the danger,” he said. “Neither of you do.”
Arabella’s gaze moved again, more deliberately this time, taking in the stretch of the promenade around them. There were others present, but not near enough to intervene quickly should it become necessary. The distance between groups felt larger than it should have been.
“Then you will explain it,” Eleanor replied. “Calmly. And without dramatics.”
Covington gave a short, humorless breath. “Calm has already cost too much.”
The words landed strangely, not quite coherent in their urgency.
Arabella felt the unease deepen, though she could not yet name it fully. “You are not making sense,” she said.
His gaze returned to her at once. “I am attempting to ensure your safety.”
“My safety does not require your interference,” she said, more sharply than she intended.
Something in him shifted at that.
“Does it not?” he asked, his tone altering, the restraint thinning. “You are alone. Your husband is not here. And yet you walk as though nothing has changed.”
Eleanor’s hand tightened slightly at Arabella’s arm. “We are not alone,” she said. “And you will step back.”
Covington did not comply.
Instead, he moved forward.
The distance between them closed in an instant, too quickly for the shift to feel anything but deliberate. Eleanor reacted at once, placing herself fully between him and Arabella, her posture rigid with quiet authority.
“You will not come any closer,” she said.
For a moment, it seemed he might listen.
Then the moment passed.
It happened faster than she could properly understand. Eleanor’s breath caught as his hand came up.
Arabella saw it too late.
There was a sharp sound, out of place in the morning stillness, and Eleanor’s body faltered where she stood. The strength left her all at once, her weight shifting forward before collapsing without resistance.
“Eleanor—”
Arabella moved instinctively, her hands reaching for her sister, but she did not reach her in time.
