Page 115 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
His hand closed into a fist at his side.
The decision formed without hesitation this time.
Whatever had once been meant for him had shifted toward her.
That—
He would not permit.
Maxwell moved toward the door without looking back, the quiet of the house no longer something to be preserved, but something to be broken if necessary.
For the first time since she left, the path before him was clear. This time, he did not mistake restraint for honor. He went after his wife.
CHAPTER 26
“You are not staying in bed all morning.”
Arabella turned her face further into the pillow, one hand lifting in a half-hearted protest as the curtains were drawn open with more determination than care. Light flooded the room at once, too bright, too immediate, and she closed her eyes against it.
“Eleanor,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep and something less easily named, “I would prefer if you did not?—”
“You would prefer a great many things that are not good for you,” Eleanor replied, her tone brisk but not unkind. She crossed the room with purpose, already reaching for the coverlet. “Up. The day has begun, whether you intend to acknowledge it or not.”
Arabella made a quiet sound of discontent as the covers were drawn back, though she did not resist beyond that. There wassomething in Eleanor’s manner that made resistance feel both futile and unnecessary.
“I am not ill,” Arabella said, though she pushed herself upright all the same. “Merely tired. And unwilling.”
“Then you may be tired of fresh air instead of stale,” Eleanor returned. “It is far more productive.”
Arabella sat for a moment longer than necessary, her feet resting against the floor, her thoughts slow to gather, and slower still to cooperate. The events of the previous evening pressed at the edges of her awareness, though she did not allow herself to dwell on them. Not yet.
“Very well,” she said at last, rising. “If only to satisfy your insistence.”
Eleanor’s expression softened just slightly. “That is all I require.”
The morning air was cool when they stepped out, the streets already beginning to fill with the measured rhythm of carriages and early walkers. Eleanor set their pace without comment, her arm linked through Arabella’s in a way that should have felt familiar, but didn’t entirely.
They did not speak at first.
The silence stretched. Not uncomfortable, exactly. Not easy either. It had been some time since they had walked togetherlike this without purpose, without expectation. Arabella found herself aware of it in a way she had not anticipated.
Eleanor glanced at her once, then again, as though measuring the distance between what had been and what now stood in its place.
At last, she spoke.
“When did we stop speaking to one another?”
The question landed more sharply than Eleanor’s tone might have suggested.
Arabella slowed slightly, her gaze fixed ahead rather than turning to meet her sister’s. She had not expected it to be asked so plainly, so directly, without the softening that might have made it easier to answer.
“I told myself we had not,” she said, though the words felt insufficient even as she spoke them.
Eleanor did not release her arm. “You know that is not quite true.”
Arabella drew a breath, the air cool against her lungs. “Perhaps I did not wish to examine it too closely.”
“Then examine it now,” Eleanor said quietly.
