Page 10 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
He exhaled, the sound low, controlled. “That will do,” he said.
Arabella withdrew her hand at once, though the sensation lingered longer than it should have.
He stepped back, the space between them returning as though it had never been crossed at all. “You will prepare,” he continued, his voice once again composed, measured. “We leave for London tomorrow.”
Arabella simply nodded as he turned to leave. Her thoughts had not yet caught up with the speed of what had just been decided. Her mind raced ahead to consequences she could no longer undo.
And beneath it all, quieter but no less insistent, was a single, disorienting realization.
This had been her idea.
CHAPTER 4
Maxwell had faced worse situations than this.
He had been left half dead in an alley, had woken to a body that no longer matched the life he remembered, had endured the slow, humiliating realization that admiration could vanish overnight. He had rebuilt himself in silence after that, piece by piece, until he required very little from the world beyond space and control.
And yet, as he stood in the guest chamber at Langford Estate, fastening the last of his cuffs with deliberate precision, he found that this tested him in ways he had not anticipated.
He paused, glancing briefly at the shirt he now wore. It had been replaced. Properly this time. The ruined one had been set aside, though the memory of it remained fresh enough to irritate him still. The neat, vertical tears. The unmistakable evidence of small, deliberate claws.
Such a childish act and obviously a deliberate one.He thought and tightened his jaw slightly as he adjusted his sleeve, the motion controlled, practiced.
Miss Arabella Barker had proven herself a far greater disturbance than he had expected.
Most people did not speak to him as she did. They did not challenge him, did not meet his gaze with anything other than discomfort or careful avoidance. She had flinched, yes. He had seen it the moment she first looked at him. It had been instinctive, unguarded.
And then she had recovered.
Since that moment, she had done little else but defy him in small, persistent ways that accumulated into something far more disruptive than open conflict. Her tone, her posture, the way she refused to retreat when it would have been simpler for them both if she had.
Even now, as he stepped into the corridor, he could still feel the imprint of her hand against his chest from the morning before. It had been brief, controlled, entirely insufficient to mean anything of consequence.
And yet he had noticed it. And it had irritated him, nearly beyond control.
He moved through the house with steady purpose, his boots striking softly against the polished floor as he made his way toward the entrance hall. The arrangements for their departure had already begun. The carriage would be ready shortly. The sooner they left, the better.
London would be no quieter, but it would be predictable.
He reached the hall just as voices carried from the far side of the room, drawing his attention before he could announce himself.
“…it must be given to her the moment she returns,” Arabella was saying, her tone firm in a way that did not quite suit the softness of her appearance. “I will not have her learn of it from anyone else.”
The butler stood before her, his posture respectful but strained, his hands clasped as though he would rather be anywhere else. “Miss Arabella, perhaps it would be more prudent to?—”
“It would not,” she interrupted, not unkindly, but with a certainty that cut through his hesitation. “I would not ask if it were not necessary.”
Maxwell stepped forward then, his presence enough to draw their attention at once.
Arabella turned first, her expression shifting only slightly as she took him in. There was no flinch this time. No immediateretreat. Only a brief tightening at the corners of her mouth before she inclined her head.
“Your Grace,” she said.
The butler followed suit, bowing quickly.
Maxwell’s gaze moved to the letter in Arabella’s hand. “For your sister,” he said. It was not a question.
“Yes,” she replied. “She deserves to hear it from me.”
