Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

A rabella followed him down a long hall, doubling back over some of the ground they had already covered until they came upon the ballroom.

She stopped and glanced inside.

“Arabella,” he murmured, stepping behind her. His breath fanned her neck, making her shiver.

“Can we look into the ballroom?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

His eyes shimmered in the candlelight as he replied, “If you wish, but I do not keep the ballroom lit. It isn’t one of the spaces that I use. But here…”

He removed a candleholder from the wall and led her into the ballroom. Their footsteps echoed against the hardwood floor, the only illumination coming from his candle. Harry walked to the walls so she could see the white wallpaper decorated with red and golden accents.

“Over yonder, there’s a platform for the orchestra,” he said, gesturing toward a raised area. “I recall that the sound is rather magnificent. It echoes beautifully.”

Arabella nodded, almost able to imagine herself dancing in this grand space. “Did you host many balls here?” she asked.

He shook his head. “When my parents were alive, they did. I’ve heard stories from my aunt about the balls they held here and how magnificent they were. My mother would sometimes play the harp to a room of 200 people, and all of them would stand silent, awed by the sound.”

She looked up at him, feeling the nostalgia in his words, the longing for his parents. She thought of her own mother and wondered if she had ever played in that ballroom. Her father hardly ever talked about her, and with Alexander so far away, there was no one to tell stories.

“My mother played the violin,” she said suddenly.

She had tried to tell Harry this earlier in the music room, but he had interrupted her, and she had feared the conversation would take a turn similar to those with her father. But to her relief, it hadn’t. He had apologized, and now seemed the perfect time to share her mother’s love for music.

He looked at her with a smile. “The violin? Indeed? Then your mother and mine were both keen musicians. I imagine they would’ve had much to talk about, seeing that they both enjoyed music so much.”

“Yes, I wonder what they would’ve talked about if they were both alive. I don’t know much about my mother,” she admitted, her voice softening. “My father doesn’t speak of her, and with my brother gone…” She shrugged.

“How about your aunt and uncle? You mentioned them earlier.”

“They speak of her, but only of their childhood. Once she married, she and my father did not see them very often because my aunt and uncle lived far away. My father spoke about her, but ever since she died, he only speaks of her in terms of how disappointed she would be in all of us. How dismayed she would be that her daughters aren’t married yet and that the heir to the estate lives in another country.”

Arabella hated the dismay that crept into her voice, but Harry did not seem to be bothered by it. Rather, he appeared to listen carefully and with genuine interest.

“It’s dreadful. I’m sorry that your father is the way he is. Grief does strange things to people.”

She wondered if his grief for his parents had turned him into the secretive and sometimes cold man he seemed to be. But she didn’t ask. They didn’t know each other well enough for that, and she still felt the sting of his harsh words from earlier. Though he hadn’t meant them and had apologized, being in her father’s presence all these years had scarred her and made her cautious of people.

“Your parents… do you remember much about them?”

“No, nothing. The only things I know about them are what my aunt and uncle told me. But my aunt died when I was eleven, so…”

“That’s terrible. I knew that your aunt had died, but I didn’t know it was so long ago. May I ask what happened?”

She felt him shift, his shoulders drawing together as if shielding himself from something painful.

“It was an accident. A tragic accident. My uncle was a difficult man before her death, and even more difficult after. He didn’t turn to drinking, but his moods…” He shrugged.

“I see,” she sighed, unsure what else to say. “I barely remember my mother. She passed away when I was five,” she added, but then stopped, realizing that he hadn’t told her how old he had been when his mother died. She didn’t want him to think that she had been prying, although it seemed as though she had.

“So, we both lost our mothers when we were very young. How strange that we were brought together with such a shared history. Both our mothers were musicians. We seem to have more in common than we thought.”

And yet you do not wish to consider making this a real marriage.

Arabella wanted to voice that thought but hesitated. The truth was that she wasn’t even certain if she wanted it to be a real marriage. His presence left her feeling disoriented and unsure of her emotions. He had a protective air about him that made her believe he truly intended to look after her, yet he resisted any possibility of romance.

“If you wish, you can host a ball here. It has been years since this space was used for what it was meant for.”

“You haven’t used it to host a ball?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. I grew up with my uncle at his home in Brixton, just outside of town. He would use this space on occasion if he wished to host a grand gala for one of his business concerns, but after my aunt passed away, he would only host dinners and such at his own home. In any case, the room is yours to do with as you wish. Perhaps you and your sisters would like to host balls here. I am sure you’re rather accomplished at that.”

Arabella cringed. “On the contrary. We rarely ever entertained, and I most certainly do not cherish the idea of hosting balls. Besides, hardly anybody would attend. The Hayward family is not exactly among the highest echelons in Society. You know my father’s temper and his reputation.”

“I do,” Harry said, “but you no longer live under his roof. You are the Duchess of Sheffield. I indicated before that spending money on beeswax candles was of no consequence to me, and I meant it. I’m not sure you fully understand that you have married one of the wealthiest men in the world. This is not our only home.”

“I assumed you had a home in Sheffield,” she said.

“I do. We have an estate in the north. It is not quite as grand as this one, but it is larger than any of the others in the area. It is let right now to a Scottish laird who has lived there for a number of years. But we also own a chateau in France, a cottage in Brighton, and a hacienda in Spain.”

“Goodness,” she breathed, her eyes widening.

“Goodness, indeed. My father was a rather astute businessman. Much of the nobility turn their noses up at business, but my father never did. It served him well, and it will serve you well.”

“What sort of business are you involved in?” she asked.

He shrugged and studied her for a moment before clicking his tongue and turning away. “All manner of things,” he replied. “Would you like to see the adjacent rooms? My mother had a room dedicated to games. Snapdragon and such. Are you fond of such things?”

Arabella sensed his reluctance to discuss his business dealings and wondered what he might be hiding. She wanted to press him further but decided against it.

“Perhaps in the daylight. I’d like to see the garden.”

As they continued their walk, they found themselves heading toward the garden. The night air was cool and refreshing, and the moon cast a silvery glow over the neatly trimmed hedges and flowering plants. Harry held the candle steady, the flame flickering as they stepped outside.

Arabella tilted her head back, gazing up at the clear, starry sky. “I’ve always loved watching the stars,” she confessed, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “They’ve been a source of comfort to me for as long as I can remember.”

Harry glanced up as well, following her gaze. “Do you know any constellations?”

“Oh, quite a few,” she replied with a laugh. “That one,” she said, pointing up to the right, “is Orion, with his belt of three stars. And over there, that’s Cassiopeia, the queen who was so vain. And there, you can just see the Pleiades, the Seven Sisters. They’re fainter, but if you know where to look, you can always find them.”

Harry appeared impressed, his eyes flitting between the stars and her animated expression. “You know more about the night sky than I do,” he admitted. “It’s fascinating.”

She chuckled softly. “When I was a little girl, I used to sneak out of the house at night and lie on the grass, just staring up at the stars. Alexander knew how much I loved them, so when he left for the first time, he sent me a canopy for my bed. It was made to look like a starry sky, with tiny lights sewn into the fabric to mimic the constellations. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

Her voice softened as she continued. “But my father took it away. He didn’t want me to have anything from Alexander. He said it was foolish, and he didn’t want me distracted by childish fantasies.”

Harry frowned, the corners of his mouth turning down in disapproval. “That’s awful,” he said, his voice low. “You must have been heartbroken.”

“I was,” she admitted. “But I’ve learned not to show it. I knew better than to argue.”

Harry nodded, understanding her pain all too well. “My uncle Richard was much the same,” he revealed after a moment. “He took it upon himself to strip away anything he deemed unnecessary or frivolous. When I was a boy, I had a collection of model ships. I loved them—they were a gift from my father, and I used to spend hours arranging them, imagining grand voyages and battles at sea.”

He paused, the memory casting a shadow over his features. “But my uncle saw the ships as a distraction from my studies and a waste of time. One day, while I was at my lessons, he had them all thrown out. I came home to find my room empty, my little fleet gone. He said it wasn’t good to cling to the ships when it was a ship that robbed me of my father. He didn’t understand that they reminded me of my parents in a good way.”

Arabella looked at him with sympathy. “That must have been devastating.”

“It was,” Harry replied, his voice tight. “But like you, I learned to hide my disappointment. My uncle wasn’t a man to be crossed. He believed that anything sentimental or indulgent had no place in a man’s life.”

Arabella reached out and touched his arm, a small gesture of comfort. “It seems we both had our childhoods shaped by stern hands,” she remarked softly.

Harry looked down at her hand on his arm, then back up into her eyes, his expression softening. “It appears so. But now we’re free of that, aren’t we? We’re no longer bound by their rules.”

Arabella smiled, a mix of sadness and hope in her eyes. “No, we’re not,” she agreed. “We can create our own rules, and perhaps surround ourselves with the things that bring us joy.”

“Indeed,” Harry said, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small, sincere smile. “And perhaps we can both find new ways to enjoy the stars.”

As they continued their walk through the garden, the path gradually led them to a darker, more secluded area. The wind whipped through the bushes and soon blew out Harry’s candle.

“Perdition,” he mumbled.

“Perhaps we ought to return,” she said, suddenly cast in darkness.

The trees overhead formed a thick canopy, blotting out the moonlight and casting deep shadows all around them.

“We ought to. Let us cut through here. It is a little dark but not far,” he said and darted into an area surrounded by tall, dark hatches.

Arabella hesitated for a moment, her footsteps faltering as the darkness enveloped them. She’d never liked the dark—she found it frightening.

Harry glanced down at her, sensing her sudden unease. “Are you unwell? Does the dark unsettle you?” he asked.

“No… I … Well, I do not like the darkness, I confess,” she said, unable to mask her fear—the slight tremor in her voice gave her away.

Without a word, he gently reached for her hand, enveloping it in his own. His grip was firm yet comforting, a silent assurance that he was there, that she wasn’t alone.

Arabella instinctively moved closer to him, her heart rate slowing at the warmth of his touch. The fear that had begun to creep into her chest receded, replaced by a growing sense of safety and trust. She glanced up at him, finding his gaze already on her, the concern in his eyes softened by the flickering light of the distant candles.

They walked together like that, hand in hand, through the shadowed path. Neither of them spoke, but the silence between them was filled with an unspoken connection, a mutual understanding that words could not capture. The night around them seemed to fade away, the dark no longer feeling as intimidating as it had moments before.

After a few more steps, Harry stopped and turned to face her fully. In the dim light, his features were gentle, and the usual guarded expression he wore was replaced by something more open, more vulnerable. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “I’m here. I told you, I’ll keep you safe.”

Arabella nodded, a small smile touching her lips as she squeezed his hand. “I know,” she murmured back. “Thank you.”

For a moment, they stood there in the darkened garden, the world around them forgotten. The only thing that seemed to matter was the warmth of his hand holding hers, the steady presence of him by her side. It was a simple gesture, but one that spoke volumes—a connection forged in the quiet, a bond strengthened by their shared vulnerability.

Slowly, Harry lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, a chaste but tender gesture that sent a shiver down her spine. When he lowered her hand, he didn’t let go, instead keeping it firmly clasped in his as they continued their walk.

And as they moved forward, the darkness seemed a little less daunting, the night air a little less cold, with each other to hold on to.