Page 56 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
Then, quietly, “I see.”
The words did not tremble. They did not falter. But something within her, long hovering just beyond her grasp, began at last to take shape.
Arabella resumed walking, though more slowly now, her gaze no longer drifting with idle interest but settling with quiet intent upon the path ahead.
“It is strange,” she said after a moment, her tone thoughtful rather than wounded. “How readily a story is shaped when the truth is not known.”
Neither Jane nor Cissie interrupted her.
“He was not compelled,” Arabella continued, her fingers tightening slightly around her reticule before easing again. “No one stood over him. No one forced his hand. He made his decision, just as I made mine.”
Cissie opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Jane studied her more closely. “You are very certain of that.”
“I am,” Arabella said, and there was something steadier in her voice now, something that had not been there before. “I was there as I am here with you now.”
She glanced between them, a small, composed smile returning to her lips. “If society finds that inconvenient, then I suppose it must learn to endure it.”
The tension eased, though not entirely, as they continued down the path together, the conversation shifting once more. But something had changed, subtle and firm, settling into place where uncertainty had once lingered.
CHAPTER 15
Sleep did not come easily, and the following morning began with disruption. The knock was sharper than usual, the voice behind it carrying an urgency that did not belong within the walls of the house.
“Your Grace.”
Maxwell was already awake. “Enter.”
The steward stepped inside, his composure intact, though there was no disguising the tension beneath it. “There has been an incident,” he said.
Maxwell rose, reaching for his coat. “Explain.”
“Another dispute among the tenants,” the steward replied. “It has escalated. There is concern it may not remain contained.”
Maxwell’s expression hardened. “Where?”
“This is the issue that was discussed and previously dealt with between the men in the western holdings.”
He did not wait for further details.
The ride out was brisk, the air colder than the previous day, carrying the scent of damp earth and unsettled ground. By the time Maxwell arrived, the situation had already drawn a small crowd.
Voices carried across the open space, raised and uneven. Men stood in clusters, their postures rigid, their attention divided between one another and the arrival of their landlord.
The shift was immediate.
Silence did not fall, but it tightened, the edges of the argument sharpening rather than dispersing.
Maxwell dismounted, handing the reins off without looking. “Who is responsible for this?”
No one answered at once.
Then, from the center of the gathered men, one stepped forward. “We are, Your Grace.”
Maxwell regarded him. “You speak for all of them.”
“I speak for enough.”
