Page 89 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
It did not vanish all at once, but softened in increments, worn down by familiarity and the quiet persistence of shared company. Gwen’s laughter came easily, drawing others into it. James offered a story that required little response but much amusement. Even Eleanor, though still watchful, allowed herself to relax by degrees.
By the time the suggestion of games was raised, the atmosphere had shifted entirely.
“Charades,” Gwen declared, with a decisiveness that brooked no argument. “It is the only proper choice.”
“It is also the most likely to expose our weaknesses,” Victor observed.
“Then we shall discover them together,” she replied.
Teams were formed with little ceremony. Arabella found herself paired with Maxwell without question, as though it had been decided before the suggestion was even made.
“You seem confident,” she said as they took their place.
“I enjoy this game. Do you?” he replied simply.
“I… I admit that I have not played it.”
“You will do just fine. It is just a game. Relax, Arabella.” The combination of her name and his rough voice sent a slight shiver down her spine. It was as if his fingers traced the line themselves, but his hands remained at his side.
She rolled her shoulders back and straightened to pay attention to the rules, in which Gwen explained quickly.
The first few rounds passed with increasing energy, the earlier restraint replaced by something far more lively. Laughter came more readily now, conversation overlapping without care for formality. Even Eleanor’s earlier severity had softened into something closer to genuine enjoyment.
Roderick, however, found himself at the center of more than one failed attempt, his efforts met with a mixture of encouragement and pointed amusement that he accepted with as much grace as he could manage.
“I maintain that was entirely clear,” he said after one particularly unsuccessful round.
“It was entirely unclear,” Eleanor corrected, not unkindly.
Arabella laughed, the sound coming without thought as she turned back toward Maxwell. “We must do better than that.”
“We will,” he said.
And they did.
It surprised her, at first, how easily they fell into it. There was no need for elaborate explanation, no uncertainty in the way they interpreted one another’s gestures. A glance, a slight shift, the smallest indication of intent—and she understood.
“You knew that?” she asked under her breath after one successful guess.
“I somehow did,” he replied.
“I do not know how I knew that, but I did!” she laughed easily then, shocked at her own recall of information.
He looked at her then, something like quiet acknowledgment passing between them before the next round was called.
They won.
The realization came not with triumph, but with a kind of shared amusement that lingered as the game concluded and conversation resumed once more.
“I did not expect that in the slightest,” Arabella admitted, leaning slightly closer to him.
“Oh, I was not certain that we would win, but I figured we would do well,” Maxwell said.
“But westillwon!”
Maxwell smiled broadly at her excitement and nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, we won,” he said, chuckling softly.
She studied him for a moment, something thoughtful settling behind her expression. “I suppose we know more of one another than I realized.”
