Page 38 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
Roderick’s lips curved faintly. “And are you saying that you are not?”
Maxwell eyed his friend skeptically. “You know very well how I feel on this subject.”
“Yes, yes,” Roderick agreed. “I know, but you should know that I find you changed, partially, to the joys of marriage in ways that I have not observed in you previously.”
There was a brief pause before Maxwell spoke again, his tone more measured, completely ignoring his friend’s comment. “Why did she not marry before now?”
Roderick’s brows rose slightly, though his expression did not immediately shift. “You ask thatnow?”
“I find it most inconsistent,” Maxwell said. “That a fair woman, of moderate wealth and peerage, has not been even pursuedbefore this arrangement. She conducts herself properly. She draws attention without seeking it. It does not align.”
Roderick’s mouth twitched, a hint of amusement breaking through. “You make her sound like a strategic acquisition.”
Maxwell did not respond.
Roderick took a slow sip of his drink before answering. “From what I know,” he said, “she had her share of interest. More than her share, if we are to be precise.”
Maxwell’s gaze sharpened slightly. “And yet?—”
“And yet,” Roderick interrupted, “she did not choose any of them.”
“Why not?”
Roderick glanced at him, the amusement fading into something more thoughtful. “Because she was interested in someone else.”
Maxwell stiffened.Someone else…
Roderick nodded, his gaze drifting once more toward Arabella. “That is just what I was told, but you know how thetonis… itching for a tale and wholly uninterested in the truth.”
Maxwell followed his line of sight again, his attention settling more firmly now. Arabella stood with her companions still, her expression bright, her posture relaxed, as though she belonged entirely to the world around her.
“In whom were the rumors about then? I never caught wind.” Maxwell asked, his voice quieter now.
Roderick let out a slow breath, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly as though he recognized something in the question itself.
“That,” he said, “is a far more interesting matter, my friend but of course you would not have heard… you rarely make an appearance in society.”
Roderick took another slow sip of his drink, though his gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond the rim of the glass, as though measuring how much he ought to say.
“She was encouraged otherwise, of course,” he added after a moment. “Her half-sister Charlotte, made certain of that.”
Maxwell’s attention sharpened, though his posture did not change. “Encouraged,” he repeated. “In what way?”
Roderick lowered the glass slightly, his expression shifting as though he had only just recalled the nature of his audience. “It is not a story worth repeating,” he said, too quickly. “Not now anyway.”
Maxwell did not move. “You have already begun it.”
Roderick exhaled, a quiet sound that carried more caution than reluctance. “There were… efforts,” he said carefully. “To guide her toward more suitable matches. Away from whatever… inclination she had formed.”
Maxwell’s gaze remained steady. “And you find that understandable?”
“I do,” Roderick replied. “Given the circumstances.”
A brief silence followed, the sounds of the garden continuing around them, laughter rising and falling in the distance, the soft rustle of skirts across the grass. It all felt removed, as though it belonged to another conversation entirely.
“Who was the man?”
Roderick adjusted his weight, then seemed to reconsider himself. “I should not have said even that,” he added. “It is not my place.”
