Page 24 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
The ring was placed, the words completed, the final blessing given.
It was over before she could fully settle into it.
“Then I pronounce you?—”
The vicar’s voice faded as the moment concluded, the quiet of the chapel returning almost at once. Gwen stepped forward, her expression warm as she embraced Arabella briefly, then turned to Maxwell with a polite nod.
Victor offered his congratulations in a low voice; the exchange was brief and proper. The witnesses spoke only what was required before stepping back again.
Arabella stood for a moment longer, her hand still resting where Maxwell had left it, the weight of the ring unfamiliar against her finger.
“That is done,” she said quietly.
Maxwell inclined his head. “Yes.”
There was nothing more to add.
* * *
The carriage ride that followed was quieter than the morning had been.
The city moved around them as they passed through it, the wheels of the carriage rolling steadily over the uneven streets, the occasional call of a vendor or the distant rumble of another carriage slipping through the open window. Arabella sat opposite Maxwell, her hands folded loosely in her lap, her gaze shifting now and then toward the passing buildings before returning inward.
For a time, neither of them spoke.
It was Maxwell who broke the silence.
“Why did your family not attend?”
The question came without preamble, his tone even, as though he had been considering it for some time before deciding to ask.
Arabella looked up, surprised enough that she did not answer immediately. “You know Eleanor is away,” she said.
“I do,” he replied. “That does not account for the rest.”
Arabella’s lips curved faintly, though there was something quieter beneath it. “No,” she said. “It does not.”
She shifted slightly, turning more toward him now, one hand brushing absently against the fabric of her skirt. “My father would not have come,” she said. “He has not found reason to concern himself with my affairs for some time.”
Maxwell’s expression did not change, though his gaze remained fixed on her.
“My half-sister,” Arabella continued, “would have found the occasion amusing, though not in a manner that would have improved it.”
Maxwell’s mouth tightened slightly. “You speak of them as though their absence is preferable.”
“It is,” Arabella said simply.
He studied her, the faint crease between his brows deepening. “You are pleased by it.”
She laughed then, the sound light but genuine, her shoulders easing for the first time since they had left the chapel. “Very much so.”
The look that crossed his face was unmistakable.
Disbelief, edged with something closer to distaste.
Arabella laughed again, softer this time. “You do not understand,” she said.
“No,” he replied. “I do not.”
