Page 25 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
She leaned back slightly, her gaze drifting toward the window before returning to him. “They would have made it unpleasant,” she said. “This way, it was not.”
Maxwell’s expression remained unchanged. “That does not explain your… enthusiasm.”
Arabella’s smile widened, her eyes brightening in a way that felt almost defiant. “Must I be unhappy to satisfy you?”
He did not answer at once.
“Should I frown and lament my circumstances?” she continued, tilting her head slightly. “Would that be more agreeable?”
Maxwell held her gaze, his silence deliberate.
Arabella’s laughter softened, though it did not fade entirely. “I should think not,” she said.
The carriage rolled on, the rhythm of it steady beneath them.
Maxwell said nothing further.
Arabella rested her hands more firmly in her lap, her fingers threading together as the motion of the carriage carried them forward. The city outside continued without pause, wheels passing over stone, voices rising and falling beyond the glass, but inside, the space felt narrower than before.
She studied him for a moment, careful not to be obvious about it. He had not looked away, not entirely, but there was a distance to his gaze now, as though the question he had asked had led him somewhere he had not intended to go.
She hesitated.
Then, before she could reconsider, she spoke.
“And your family?”
Maxwell’s attention returned to her fully, the shift immediate, though his expression did not change. “They are dead,” he said.
The words were delivered without weight, without embellishment, as though they were no more than a fact to be stated and left behind.
Arabella nodded once, her fingers tightening slightly against one another. “I see,” she said, though the response felt insufficient even as she spoke it. The carriage rolled on, the steady rhythm of it filling the space where words might have been.
Arabella looked toward the window again, her reflection faint against the glass. The city blurred past in muted color, the movement of it easier to follow than the stillness beside her.
She had asked. He had answered. And that should have been the end of it.
“They were older,” he said.
The words came without warning, drawing her gaze back to him at once.
Maxwell’s posture had not shifted, but there was a difference in the way he held himself now, something less rigid, though not relaxed. “When I was born,” he added.
Arabella blinked, surprised by the continuation. “Oh.”
He glanced toward the opposite window briefly, then back again. “It was not expected,” he said. “Not by anyone.”
The carriage jolted slightly over uneven stone, the movement passing through the floor beneath her feet.
Arabella tilted her head, considering him more carefully now. “Then you were a surprise,” she said.
“A complication,” he replied.
She shook her head at once, the motion instinctive. “No,” she said. “A miracle.”
The word settled between them.
Maxwell’s gaze stilled, fixed on her in a way that made her aware of her own breath, the slight rise and fall of it against the bodice of her gown.
