Chapter 6

Edward was severely unhappy, though he made sure not to show it. Over the last few days, his anger at the situation had increased so much that he almost felt numb. He was never one to talk about his feelings, nor did he think that it was anybody's business, but he had always wished that there was an easier way to deal with the overwhelming emotions.

He wished he could bring himself to ease Arabella's worries, but he had yet to ease his frustration and decided he'd rather avoid her than pour it out on her, when she was in no way to be blamed.

He knew that Arabella seemed interested in a night of passion with him. She even asked for one herself. But he knew that she had no idea what she was getting herself into by asking that. He should have known better, considering he was the one with more experience.

Lord Thorne interrupted his train of thought when he asked, "Would anyone else care for a second serving? Creamed ice has always been a weakness of mine."

That is the last thing I want right now. I feel like I could be sick.

Lord Thorne seemed to be the only one who was hungry enough for extras, so he had a servant bring him more.

It was impossible for Edward to take his eyes off Arabella during dinner. He desperately wanted to leave. He needed space from the family that he was about to become a part of.

Nonetheless, his eyes wandered.

She wore a beautiful dress that complemented her every feature without coming off as immodest. He had grown to appreciate that about her over the last couple of days. She was so naturally beautiful that it barely took anything to capture his attention.

Her skin glowed underneath the golden glow of the candles, and he still felt the heady rush of desire when he looked at her. His hands itched to free her breasts, which strained against the bodice of her dress, and fondle them till she came apart in his arms.

Feeling his breeches tighten, he decided to think about her other qualities

She was a funny and caring and compassionate woman. She had the wit of one of his best mates growing up and the heart to care for those who may only be a speck in the wind to others.

What is this woman doing to me? I have never felt this way about another.

"Sarah and I have picked out the floral arrangements," Arabella piped up after some time.

"Do tell, Sister!" Madeline clapped her hands together excitedly.

Arabella's nose twitched adorably. "I am a fan of surprises, so I think I will not say anything, so it may remain one."

"Does His Grace know?" Madeline asked, turning her head to face the flustered Duke. She then haphazardly added, "Oh my goodness, am I going have to call you Your Grace, Sister?"

Arabella did her best to stifle her laugh. "No, Madeline, you will not have to do that. I will not object if you decide to be polite to me and address me by my new title, but I do not expect it. And no, he does not know what I have chosen."

There was an uneasy feeling in the air after Arabella said this. It was not that Edward did not want to help with the preparations, it was more so the fact that he couldn't bring himself to.

"While I do not know the colors, I am excited to see what you ladies decided on," he said with such grace.

When he was a boy, he used to be prone to hyperventilating when he became too stressed. Obviously, this was unbecoming for a young gentleman in high society, so his caretakers and father made sure to instill in him that he was to keep those feelings hidden inside.

Those feelings had transformed from helplessness to anger that burned hotly when sufficiently stoked.

"I cannot wait for you to see them," Arabella said, her hands resting on her lap, her head lowered.

Edward knew that she thought he was not being serious, but he was being honest. He was curious to know what colors popped out to her.

I wonder what her favorite flower is.

When dinner finally ended, Edward was more than ready to retire to his chambers. But before he could head back upstairs, he heard Arabella call to him.

"Your Grace, can I ask you a question about the preparations?"

Edward inwardly groaned at the request but figured he owed her some of his time.

"Yes, My Lady," he replied, walking to where she stood in the corner of the dining room.

He felt his skin tingle as he approached her. She looked even more ravishing up close. The hems of her dress were sewn in with matching green lace. The thought of her in lace sent a wave of desire through him.

When they made sure no one was around to overhear their conversation, Arabella whispered, "May I ask why you seem unwilling to invite your family? Are they really in the political trenches?"

Edward froze for a few seconds before he masked his discomfort with a faux smile. "They indeed are. I fear they would not be able to arrive on time."

How could he even begin to explain why he did not want to invite his family to her without coming off as dismissive? He would gladly invite his younger siblings, Beatrice and Noah, as he had always had a relationship with them, but he couldn't even hold conversations with his younger brother, Charles.

Even though Charles was only two years younger than Edward, he acted like his father sometimes. He was crass, harsh, and had high expectations for everyone in the family. Edward sometimes wished Charles inherited the duchy, as he seemed more capable than Edward at times.

Alas, Edward had a strained relationship with a lot of his family. His mother would nag him to bring home a wife. Perhaps this would make her happy and hop off his back for once.

"That is rather unfortunate. I was hoping to meet your parents," Arabella admitted, her cheeks and neck flushing.

Edward momentarily held his breath when she mentioned his father. "My father passed away several years ago, actually, but I can take you to his grave if you like?"

Arabella covered her mouth to hide her amusement, but a small giggle managed to escape. "I am sorry for your loss."

"Do not worry, I am not," he said before he could stop himself. He coughed to get rid of the nervous tickle in his throat and said, "If you will excuse me, My Lady, I am feeling rather tired. I wish to return to my chambers."

"Arabella," she blurted out.

"That is your name, no?"

She snorted. "Yes, but I think it's only appropriate for you to refer to me as such, no? Now that we're to be wed."

"Arabella…" Edward tested how her name sounded on his tongue and found that he liked it. "Please call me Edward. Ed if you are feeling adventurous."

The smile she bore made him reciprocate.

Maybe things will be easy with her.

"Goodnight, Edward," she sheepishly murmured, before curtseying and leaving the dining room.

"Goodnight, Arabella."

When Edward got back to his chambers, he shut the door behind him and let out a long shaky breath. He allowed himself to decompress, which was something he only did in private.

He poured himself a glass of Scotch from the collection he'd been provided with and took a large sip, staring into the fire. He'd made his bed the moment he'd given in to temptation, and now he'd lie in it.