Page 17 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
It would have been the moment for further questions. For clarification. For something resembling a proper exchange between two people about to bind their lives together.
Arabella’s lips parted slightly, as though she might speak, but the sound of approaching footsteps drew her attention away before she could do so.
Maxwell did not wait.
He turned, already stepping back toward the entrance, the matter settled as far as he was concerned. The door closed behind him without ceremony, the conversation left unfinished in a way that felt entirely deliberate.
He did not look back.
Outside, the air felt sharper, the city louder in his absence from it. Maxwell adjusted his coat, his thoughts already shifting toward what remained to be done. The license would be obtained quickly. It always was, for those with the necessary influence. The arrangements would follow just as efficiently.
There was no reason to delay.
And yet, as he moved through the streets, he found his thoughts returning, uninvited, to the carriage. To the way she had gone quiet. To the question she had not quite asked before he left.
It did not matter.
The situation required resolution. Nothing more.
He pushed the thought aside.
Inside the Greystone residence, Arabella was no longer his concern for the moment. She was placed appropriately. Protected from immediate scrutiny. That was sufficient.
He would see her again when it was required.
The rest would follow as it must.
* * *
Within the drawing room, Arabella had not remained alone for long.
Gwendoline Stephens, Eleanor’s dearest friend, entered with the ease of familiarity, her presence bringing warmth into the space almost immediately. Her gaze found Arabella at once, her expression brightening with genuine affection before narrowing slightly with curiosity.
“Arabella,” she said, crossing the room quickly. “You arrive without warning, and in such company.”
Arabella returned the embrace, though there was a tension in it that did not escape notice. She considered Gwen to be somewhat of an older sister, as she spent most of her childhood looking up to her and Eleanor. This left Arabella far more anxious about this visit than she had anticipated.
“I might say the same of you,” Gwen added lightly as she stepped back, her gaze already searching for answers.
“It is… a complicated situation,” Arabella said.
“That much is clear.”
Gwen gestured toward the seating, waiting only until Arabella had settled before taking her own place opposite. “You will explain,” she said, though the words were softened by a smile that suggested she expected nothing less.
Arabella did.
She spoke of the estate, of Roderick’s absence, of the arrival that had not been expected. She moved through the events with careful precision at first, then with increasing honesty as the story unfolded. By the time she reached the conclusion, the marriage was decided in urgency rather than design, Gwen’s expression had shifted entirely.
Amusement flickered first, then concern.
“Well,” Gwen said slowly, leaning back slightly as she considered it. “That is both the most outrageous and the most predictable outcome I have heard in some time.”
Arabella let out a small breath, though it did not carry relief. “You do not seem particularly surprised.”
“I have known men like him before,” Gwen replied. “Not him, precisely. But the type.” She tilted her head slightly. “Though he was not always so… severe.”
Arabella’s attention sharpened at that. “You know of him?”
