Page 87 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
He studied her, the quiet composure she had regained, the warmth that remained in her manner despite the strain of the morning. There was no reluctance there, but there was a measure of formality that had not yet entirely faded.
He could not read it with certainty.
And so he said nothing.
Arabella shifted slightly, drawing her shawl closer around her shoulders, though her gaze remained on him. “You are brooding,” she said, softer this time.
“I do not brood,” he admitted.
“Yes, you do. Now, shall I be concerned?”
“I do not, and no… You should not.”
She studied him for a moment longer, then seemed to accept the answer without pressing further. “I suppose,” she said after a moment, “that we will both be brooding— I mean thinking a great deal in the coming days.”
“It is likely.”
“At least we shall not be doing so alone.”
Maxwell held her gaze. “No,” he said. “We will not.”
The afternoon had begun to shift toward evening, the light in the room dimming just enough to mark the passage of time. Outside, the distant sounds of the street carried faintly through the windows, grounding the moment in something beyond the walls of the house.
Arabella rose first. “I ought to see to a few things before dinner,” she said, though there was no haste in her movement.
Maxwell stood as well. “As should I.”
There was a brief pause, neither of them moving toward the door at once.
“Next week,” she said, not quite a question.
“We will go,” he replied.Together. The word was not spoken, but it did not need to be.
Arabella gave a small nod, her expression steady. “Very well.”
She turned then, moving toward the door, though she did not rush. Maxwell remained where he was for a moment longer, watching as she crossed the room, as she paused briefly at the threshold before continuing on.
Only when the door closed behind her did he allow himself to exhale fully. And as he turned back toward the desk, toward the obligations that still required his attention, he found that his thoughts did not settle as easily as they once had.
They did not return to the estate, nor to the matters that had occupied him before.
They remained, instead, with her.
And though he did not name it, did not examine it beyond acknowledgment, the awareness persisted all the same, carrying forward with him into the remainder of the day.
CHAPTER 21
The letter had been short. Arabella had read it more than once in the days since it arrived, and now, on the morning of the dinner, she found herself returning to it again, her fingers lingering on the edge of the paper as though it might yield something more if she looked at it long enough.
“It will be a small gathering. Only family and a few close friends tonight,” she said, glancing up at Maxwell, where he stood near the window.
Maxwell inclined his head slightly. “I understand what to expect. Are you nervous?”
“Of course, but you do not seem concerned,” she said after a moment.
He turned then, his expression as composed as ever. “Should I be?”
Arabella hesitated. “It is Eleanor,” she said. “And James. And the others. It will not be… simple.”
