Page 39 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
Maxwell’s brow lowered slightly. “You speak as though I would object. We have known each other since we were still on the breast. Surely, there is nothing you can say to shock me.”
Roderick let out a short breath, almost a laugh, though there was little humor in it. “Yes, but you are her husband now,” he said. “It would be… inappropriate to dwell on her past attachments.”
Maxwell’s expression did not change. “This is not a matter of propriety,” he said. “It is information.”
Roderick studied him for a moment, his gaze searching. “You are certain you wish to treat it so plainly, and not hold it against your bride?”
“It is precisely that,” Maxwell replied. “Plain.”
Roderick’s mouth twitched faintly, though the look did not reach his eyes. “If you say so.”
Maxwell said nothing further. There was no need. This was a marriage arranged by circumstance, bound by necessity, and defined by terms that had been made clear from the outset. Whatever had come before it held no bearing on what would follow.
And yet, he found his jaw growing sore from how tight he had set it.
His stance changed slightly, his gaze moving back toward the center of the gathering. Arabella stood where he had last seen her, her head tilted as she listened to something one of her companions said, her expression open and engaged. She laughed a moment later, the sound carrying faintly even across the distance.
It was inconsequential.
The reaction was nothing more than irritation. The crowd, the noise, the endless press of people who watched without seeming to do so. That was all.
“It is a fine day,” Roderick said after a moment, as though offering the observation as a means of easing the tension that had settled between them.
“It is,” Maxwell replied.
Roderick glanced at him once more, then followed his line of sight. “You will find,” he said, his tone quieter now, “that she is not easily directed.”
“Of course, you know I have already found that.”
“And yet you have married her?”
“I have.”
Roderick nodded slowly. “Then I suppose you will both have your work cut out for you.”
Maxwell did not answer.
The conversation did not continue after that. It did not need to. The understanding, whatever it was, settled between them without further words.
By the time Maxwell returned to Arabella’s side, the gathering had begun to thin. The afternoon light had softened, the edges of the garden less sharp, the voices quieter as guests took their leave.
“You have been abandoned,” Arabella said lightly as he approached, though her smile suggested she had not minded in the slightest. “Or perhaps I have been the one to abandon you.”
“You were occupied,” Maxwell replied.
“I was,” she said, her expression brightening once more. “Jane has recently returned from Bath, and Cissie insists that she has heard the most scandalous account of a certain gentleman who—” She paused, catching herself, her eyes flickering briefly toward him. “Well. It is not a story for today.”
Maxwell inclined his head slightly. “As you wish.”
She studied him for a moment, as though gauging whether he expected more, then seemed satisfied when he did not press her further.
“They are delightful,” she continued, falling into step beside him as they made their way toward the carriage. “I had not realized how much I had missed such company. It has been some time since I have attended anything of this sort.”
“That is evident,” Maxwell said.
She glanced at him, her lips curving. “You disapprove?”
“I said no such thing. I am simply observing my wife.”
