Page 18 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
“Of course,” Gwen said. “Everyone does.”
There was a brief pause.
“He was once quite the charmer,” she continued. “Before your time, perhaps, but not so long ago that it has been forgotten. He was well-liked. Sought after. There were few gatherings where he was not the center of attention.”
Arabella frowned slightly, the description not aligning easily with the man she had come to know.
“And then?” she asked.
Gwen’s expression shifted, the amusement fading into something more thoughtful. “Rumors,” she said. “Nothing ever confirmed. Only whispered.”
Arabella leaned forward slightly, her curiosity overtaking the hesitation she might otherwise have felt.
“He pursued the wrong woman,” Gwen said. “Or perhaps she pursued him. It depends on who tells the story. There are those who say she belonged to someone else. Not properly, of course, but in the way such arrangements are often understood.”
Arabella felt a faint unease settle in her chest.
“And someone objected,” Gwen added quietly.
The implication required no further explanation.
Arabella’s gaze dropped briefly to her hands, her thoughts moving quickly through what she had seen, what she had not been told. The mask. The scars. The silence where explanation might have been.
When she looked up again, Gwen was watching her closely. “You did not know,” Gwen said.
Arabella shook her head, and the realization settled between them, heavier than the story itself.
Gwen’s words settled slowly, each detail finding its place among the fragments Arabella had already gathered for herself. A man who had once been admired. A man who had drawn attention without effort. And then, in a single turn, something had gone wrong. Not an accident, not chance, but intention. A warning delivered with brutality.
“As punishment?” Arabella asked quietly, the words more to herself than to Gwen.
Gwen inclined her head slightly. “That is how it has always been understood.”
Arabella’s gaze dropped for a moment, her thoughts returning, unbidden, to the reflection she had only glimpsed. The unevenline of his skin. The way he had turned so quickly when he realized she was there. The sharpness in his voice was not anger alone, but something far more guarded.
“It is strange,” Arabella said after a moment, her fingers tracing lightly along the edge of her sleeve. “To be engaged to a man and know so very little of him. I mean, I do not know if he even knows my first name. I only know of him from theton.”
Gwen’s expression softened. “That is not so unusual as one might hope,” she replied. “Though in your case, it is perhaps… more pronounced.”
Arabella let out a small breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “He is not what I expected,” she admitted.
“No,” Gwen said gently. “I imagine he is not.”
Arabella lifted her gaze then, her expression thoughtful rather than troubled. “And yet…” she began, then paused.
Gwen watched her closely.
Arabella hesitated, as though weighing whether the thought should be spoken aloud at all. “He is not… unpleasant to look at,” she said, choosing her words with care. “Not entirely.”
Gwen’s brows lifted slightly, amusement flickering at the edges of her expression. “That is a very measured observation.”
Arabella laughed humorlessly. “He is different. That is undeniable. But not… diminished.”
Gwen regarded her for a moment longer, then smiled, though there was something knowing in it. “You always did have a tendency to see beyond what is immediately presented.”
Arabella did not respond to that. Instead, she leaned back slightly in her seat, her gaze drifting toward the window before returning inward again.
“I had thought…” she began, then stopped herself.
