Page 82 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
That undid the last of her.
Arabella crossed the distance between them without thinking, and Eleanor met her halfway. The embrace was immediate, fierce in a way that nearly sent her back into tears she had not realized were so close. Eleanor held her as she always had, one hand at the back of her head, the other firm around her shoulders, and for a moment, Arabella felt as young as she had the day Eleanor first learned how to comfort her.
“I am sorry,” Arabella whispered into the fabric of her sister’s shoulder. “I am so sorry.”
Eleanor drew back only enough to look at her. “You ought to be,” she said, though the words were softened by the shine in her eyes. “I shall never forgive you entirely for robbing me of the right to fuss over your gown.”
That pulled a breathless laugh from Arabella despite everything.
“I deserved that.”
“Yes, you did.”
They remained close, hands still clasped, neither quite ready to step apart. Eleanor looked over Arabella’s face more carefully now, as though assessing what no letter could have told her.
“He is treating you well?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” Arabella answered at once, and because it mattered, because Eleanor would hear falsehood if there was any in it, she added more quietly, “He truly is.”
Eleanor searched her expression for a long moment. Whatever she found there seemed to answer more than the words alone, because she nodded, though not without reservation.
“I believe you,” she said. “But I shall not rest easily until I see it for myself. You will come to Langford House next Wednesday.”
Arabella smiled faintly. “Okay, but that sounds like a threat.”
“It is a promise,” Eleanor replied. “You will come? Both of you.”
“We shall plan to be there.”
And though the worst of the storm had passed between them, Arabella knew by the look in her sister’s eyes that this conversation was not yet finished.
CHAPTER 20
The house did not feel the same once Eleanor had gone.
The drawing room, so recently filled with sharp voices and held breath, had settled into a quiet that seemed too complete, as though it had absorbed the tension and now refused to release it. The fire had burned lower, the light softer against the walls, and yet Arabella remained where she had been, seated but not at ease, her hands folded loosely in her lap though her fingers would not stay still.
She could still hear it if she allowed herself to think on it too closely. Eleanor’s voice, tight with anger. The word annulment, spoken as though it might undo everything with a single breath.
Arabella exhaled slowly and leaned back against the settee, closing her eyes for a moment as she attempted to steady herself. It had passed. The worst of it had passed, but the echo of it lingered just the same.
The door opened quietly behind her.
She did not start, though she straightened at once, turning as Maxwell stepped back into the room. He did not approach immediately. Instead, he paused just inside, as though gauging whether he was intruding upon something that had not yet settled.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
It was not an uncomfortable silence, but it was not easy either. It held too much of what had just occurred, too much that had not yet been said.
“She has gone?” he asked at last.
Arabella nodded. “Only just.”
He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging it, though his gaze remained on her, observant without being pressing. “And you are well?”
The question was simple, but not careless. Arabella considered it for a moment before answering.
“I am… better than I was,” she said. “Though I cannot say I am entirely composed.”
