Page 48 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
“And yet you endured it,” Maxwell replied.
Jane blinked, then laughed, the sound more genuine this time. “I had little choice.”
“There is always a choice,” he said.
Arabella felt herself watching him more closely.
There was something different in him now. Not entirely unfamiliar, but not what she had come to expect either. The restraint remained, the careful control, but beneath it she caught glimpses of the charming Maxwell Collins that Gwen had once told her of.
Her husband’s charm was not overt. Not practiced in the way she imagined it might once have been. But it was there, subtle and precise, appearing only when he chose to allow it.
Cissie, encouraged by the ease that had begun to settle over the group, ventured a question of her own. “And you, Your Grace? Do you attend such gatherings often?”
“Rarely,” he said.
“And yet you are here with us…”
He glanced, briefly, toward Arabella. “Circumstances change.”
The simplicity of the answer drew a quiet smile from Gwen, though she said nothing.
Arabella felt the weight of that glance longer than she ought.
By the time he rose, the initial tension had softened, Jane’s laughter no longer edged with uncertainty, Cissie’s posture less guarded. Even Poppet seemed content, stretched lazily across the cushion as though she had orchestrated the entire affair.
“You will excuse me,” Maxwell said.
Gwen inclined her head. “Of course.”
Arabella looked up at him, something unspoken catching briefly in her expression, though she did not voice it. He gave no sign of noticing as he stepped away, the quiet order of his presence withdrawing with him as he left the room.
The laughter resumed, though it carried a different tone now.
“He is not at all what I expected,” Jane said after a moment, her voice hushed despite the absence of anyone to overhear.
“No,” Cissie agreed. “Nor I.”
Gwen’s gaze settled on Arabella, thoughtful. “And you?”
“I am still deciding,” she said thoughtfully.
It was some time later when she found him again.
The house had quieted once more, the echo of voices fading into something more familiar. Arabella moved through the corridor with measured steps, though her thoughts were anything but steady. She found him where she expected, in his study, the door partially open.
He looked up as she entered.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Arabella crossed the room slowly, her gaze fixed on him in a way she did not attempt to disguise. There was something different in the way she looked at him now, more deliberate, as though she were attempting to reconcile what she had seen with what she thought she knew.
“You surprised me,” she said at last.
Maxwell leaned back slightly in his chair. “In what way?”
“You stayed,” she said. “And you spoke. Quite well, I might add.”
A faint shift touched his expression, something that might have been amusement. “I am capable of it.”
