Page 88 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
“It was rare for it to be a simple affair,” Maxwell replied. “No matter how small the number.”
“Well, that is just— That is not reassuring at all.”
“It was not intended to be,” he said, though there was no sharpness in it. Only a steady acknowledgment that seemed, somehow, more grounding than comfort would have been.
Arabella let out a small breath, folding the letter neatly before setting it aside. “I suppose we shall see. I am going up to change.”
“I will be ready when you come down. The carriage will be out front for our departure,” Maxwell said cooly, and he looked again out the window as she departed the room.
Her dress was laid out, a light blue frock with white ribbon trims. She dressed quickly, feeling the anxiety of time, and even rushed her lady’s maid to just do two simple plaits twisted up onto the crown of her head and secured with pins. Nothing adorning. Nothing too gaudy.
The carriage ride was quiet, though not uncomfortably so. Arabella found herself watching the passing streets more than she usually might, her thoughts moving ahead of her to themoment of arrival, to the faces she would meet, to the questions that might follow.
Maxwell, by contrast, seemed entirely unaffected.
“You are very calm,” she said at last, breaking the silence as the carriage turned onto Eleanor’s street.
He glanced at her. “I have no reason not to be.”
“You have not yet been subjected to Eleanor’s scrutiny.”
“But I have,” he said.
Arabella allowed herself a small, reluctant smile. “Last week was nothing.”
“I am sure propriety would still lead the conversation tonight,” he added. “Even if she is your sister.”
“We shall see…” Arabella sighed as the carriage came to a stop. The door opened, and the moment she had been anticipating arrived, whether she felt prepared or not.
The entrance hall was warmly lit, the atmosphere immediately different from the more restrained formality of larger gatherings. A footman took their coats, and before Arabella could fully steady herself, Eleanor appeared.
She did not rush forward, but neither did she hold back. Her gaze moved first to Arabella, then to Maxwell, assessing both with equal care.
“You came!” Eleanor said, as though confirming something rather than expressing surprise.
“I told you we would be here, El,” Arabella replied numbly.
Eleanor’s expression softened, just slightly. “Yes, but that was so long ago. Who knows what happened between then and now? Come in. The others have already arrived.”
James joined them moments later, his manner more openly welcoming, though no less observant. “Northwood,” he said, inclining his head to Maxwell. “Arabella.”
“Langford,” Maxwell returned.
“Hello, James!” Arabella said cheerfully to release the thick tension between her husband and brother-in-law.
There was a brief exchange of pleasantries, polite and measured, though Arabella could feel the underlying awareness in every word. It lingered as they were led into the drawing room, where the rest of the company awaited.
Gwen was the next to greet her, her warmth immediate and unguarded. “At last,” she said, taking Arabella’s hands in hers. “Iwas beginning to think I would not see you once your husband returned.”
“I would not dare let that happen,” Arabella replied, grateful for the ease in her tone.
Victor followed, his greeting more restrained but no less genuine, and Roderick, who offered his own acknowledgment with a careful politeness that did not quite conceal the tension beneath it.
The introductions completed, the room settled into a kind of careful balance.
Conversation began slowly. There were pauses where there might not have been before, moments where attention sharpened just a fraction too much before easing again. Arabella found herself aware of every word she spoke, every glance exchanged, as though the evening rested upon a fragile foundation that might shift if not handled with care.
And gradually, that tension began to ease.
