Library

Chapter 3

“ What is wrong with my face?” Arabella muttered under her breath as she rushed to the hall to look at herself in one of the mirrors.

“Perdition,” she gasped when she saw the trails marking her face.

Quickly, she touched up her face, all the while carrying that ball of anger that had formed in her stomach upon encountering the Duke of Sheffield.

Why had he stood there so silently? Why had he refused to let her be? She’d wanted to stay outside on her own for a while longer, to pass some time before she had to face her sisters again, but he’d made it impossible.

“The nerve of him. That widgeon,” she muttered.

Yet, as she moved through the throng of guests, she paused, realizing that she did want to talk about what had happened. She’d longed for someone who might understand her situation, but there wasn’t anyone.

Her sisters, as mad as they made her, were her best friends, and the friends she had outside the house she kept at arm’s length because she feared what would happen if they ever came to her home and saw what her father was like behind closed doors. Her sisters were her best friends and companions, but at times they were vexing beyond compare.

Most days, her only refuge was either the music room, where she would play music from the past and allow herself to escape there, or her books. Sometimes, she felt unbearably lonely—but the Duke of Sheffield was the last person she’d want to confide in.

As she returned to the ballroom, her eyes found her father, and her heart sank. His cheeks were already a bit red, and he looked like he might be bosky. Just what she needed…

She wasn’t in the mood to talk to him, but she had no other choice, for he was heading her way.

“Arabella!” he called out, his voice slightly slurred. She cringed at the sound. “Where have you been?”

“In the garden,” she replied, nodding toward the door.

Her father glanced out, his head tilted to the side. “Is that the Duke of Sheffield out there? Were you taking the air with him?”

She noted how delighted he sounded at the notion, and it gave her great pleasure to correct him.

“No, he was outside as well, but we were not together. We exchanged greetings, and that was it. He is rather rude, Father.”

“Ah well, a shame. We surely could use a duke in the family. Though I hear this one is a bit of a nipcheese. Well, now that you are here, I have a task for you. Your sisters need you. They went upstairs to the library to lie down on the fainting couch.” He blinked, then reconsidered. “Well, Hanna went to lie down. She felt faint. Anyhow, Emma is with her. You ought to see to them.”

Arabella’s anger flared, heating her cheeks. “Are you responsible for this, Father? Did you fight?”

She looked around quickly to make sure nobody was nearby to hear her speak this way, but they were alone.

He waved a dismissive hand, his eyes unfocused. “I didn’t say anything to them other than that they need to quit standing around and go dance. Your sisters are just dramatic. Go check on them.”

She stared at him, frustration bubbling inside her. He was always like this, always dismissive and self-absorbed. She felt a pang of guilt, knowing her sisters might need her, but also a flicker of resentment that she had to be the responsible one. She was the youngest, why did it fall to her to look after her sisters?

With a huff, she turned on her heel and made her way toward the stairs.

As she walked, her irritation at her father was replaced by genuine worry for Hanna. Hanna sometimes struggled with apprehension that grew so severe that she could faint from it. Perhaps it was because she used to be the one who had to carry the burden of being the oldest.

After Alexander’s departure, she’d been the one their father had thrust most of the responsibilities upon—until her frequent fits of fainting and general unwellness had transferred the responsibilities to Arabella. Emma was the one who’d stand up to their father the most, and knowing this, their father generally gave her a wider berth.

“Hanna? Emma?” Arabella called as she entered the library, struck by the familiar scent of aged paper and polished wood.

A chandelier lit the room, casting a glow over the tall, mahogany bookshelves that lined the walls. A fireplace crackled in the corner, and plush, high-backed chairs as well as a settee were arranged nearby. However, they were all empty.

Panic rose in her chest as she searched through the rows of bookshelves, her voice trembling slightly as she called out her sisters’ names. “Hanna? Where are you?”

Her footsteps echoed softly against the polished wooden floor, the only sound breaking the heavy silence in the room. She moved quickly, glancing behind each chair and around every corner, her worry mounting with each passing second.

Just as she was about to call out again, the door to the library creaked open. She spun around to see the Duke of Sheffield entering, his tall frame silhouetted against the light from the hallway. Arabella’s frustration flared.

“Are you following me? What do you want?” she demanded, her voice tinged with annoyance.

The Duke raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Perhaps I simply wanted to see you one more time before I left the ball, and properly lit this time,” he said lightly.

Arabella glared at him, refusing to respond.

The Duke laughed, shaking his head. “I am jesting,” he admitted. “You are a rather serious young lady, are you not?”

“So you did not follow me?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I did not. I came here to avoid the overeager mamas and daughters wishing to snag me. And to look for my uncle. You did not see a surly-looking man here, did you?”

She blinked. “Only the one in front of me,” she said.

He chuckled, evidently unaccustomed to a young lady speaking to him in such a way.

“Well, I deserve that. Do you mind if I wait here for my uncle?” he asked.

“This is not my house,” she pointed out. “And what do you mean the overeager mamas and daughters wish to snag you? Is that not why you are here? To find a wife? The theme is called Tender Hearts, after all.”

The Duke blinked rapidly. “Is it? I didn’t know. Well, it does not matter. Whatever the theme, the mamas always try to introduce me to their daughters. Or they take it upon themselves. Which is why I went to the garden in the first place.” He shrugged, leaning casually against a bookshelf. “The relentless attention is exhausting.”

Arabella couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “You’re lucky to have so many proposals,” she remarked dryly.

He chuckled softly, his sparkling eyes meeting hers. “Lucky? It’s more of a curse, really. Everyone wants something from me, and their attentions are rarely genuine.” His expression grew serious. “The idea of marriage is rather boring to me, anyhow.”

Arabella raised an eyebrow. “So you came here to escape? I thought it was to find your uncle.”

The Duke shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. “A bit of both, although I do need to find my uncle. A gentleman told me he came this way.”

Arabella’s skepticism was evident in her eyes. It seemed odd that he’d choose the library of all the rooms in this house. There were other places a man could disappear into. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the Duke was looking to antagonize her—and it was working.

“You could have stayed in the garden if you wanted to escape,” she pointed out.

“I could have, but as I said, a gentleman told me my uncle needed me in the library. He fetched me from outside,” he said.

Suddenly, Arabella felt alarmed. A man had come to the garden to get him? Why?

She wasn’t sure what it was, but she felt suddenly very uncomfortable, for she knew it wasn’t just mamas who came up with such schemes. Her father had tried it a time or two with her sisters. And he had insisted she find a husband tonight… And her father had noticed she’d been outside with the Duke…

“I must go. Now,” she muttered hastily and hurried to the door, aware that she had put herself in an impossible situation with this man not once, but twice.

As she did, the Duke swiftly grabbed her hand, pulling her to his side. “Lady Arabella, why do you insist on acting so strange? Are you truly scared of me? You need not be,” he reassured her.

Arabella looked into his piercing eyes, her heart racing. The unexpected gentleness in his voice and the warmth of his hand around hers momentarily disarmed her. “I… I’m fine,” she stammered, trying to pull her hand free, but he held on gently, his eyes searching hers for the truth.

“I do beg your pardon for alarming you, it was not my intention,” he offered.

“It is not you,” she said hastily. “But I must go. I fear we are…” She shook her head—there was no time to explain.

She yanked back her hand to free it from his grip. Alas, she’d used too much force. The second she’d freed her hand, she tumbled backward, letting out a screech.

“Lady Arabella,” he called, and to her shock, she felt his arms around her, catching her just before she fell to the ground.

She looked up at him, her anger melting into reluctant gratitude.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

For a moment, the library felt like the safest place in the world. Though Arabella knew she needed to leave, she found herself unable to look away from the Duke’s eyes. The intensity of his gaze held her captive, and she felt an inexplicable connection growing between them.

“You need to explain what is going on,” he said gently.

She nodded, knowing he was right.

She was about to explain the situation when the door to the library swung open and Lady Lawrence, an old, rotund lady with a huge turban adorned with gems, entered. She was one of the most dreadful gossips of the ton and the worst possible person to witness this display. Lord Worcester followed close behind her.

Arabella’s stomach dropped. This was a trap. She’d been right.

“Goodness, you were quite right. They are in here all alone. Oh, and look what they’ve been doing! Lord Worcester, you must step in,” Lady Lawrence gasped as she spotted them.

Suddenly, Arabella was very aware of the fact that she was halfway to the ground with the Duke holding her as though they were lovers. Quickly, he rose, pulling her up with him. She didn’t dare look at him, instead facing her father, who smirked when their eyes met. However, his demeanor quickly changed, and he instead narrowed his eyes and put his hands on his hips.

“Your Grace, what is going on here?” he demanded, his voice loud and commanding. “I had a terrible feeling when I saw you heading here.”

“Nothing happened,” Arabella blurted out.

“Indeed, nothing at all. Your daughter fell, and I caught her,” the Duke said hastily.

“Ah, yes, that’s your excuse, isn’t it?” Lady Lawrence rolled her eyes while fanning herself. “I know your reputation, Your Grace, and this will not stand.”

“Indeed, it will not,” Lord Worcester asserted. “This is highly improper! You have shamed my daughter in front of company. Your Grace, I must insist you do the right thing and marry her!”

No! Please, no!

Her father wasn’t going to demand the impossible, was he? He could not. And yet, when her father opened his mouth again, the words she’d long dreaded came out.

“You must marry my daughter, there is no way around it. You’ve defiled her, and in front of myself and Lady Lawrence in so public a space. Who knows who else saw you!”

Arabella’s blood boiled. She knew her father had set this up. Undoubtedly, he’d brought the ton’s biggest gossip up here with him.

“I won’t marry the Duke,” she declared, her voice shaking with anger and defiance.

Her father’s eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “You will ruin our family’s reputation, Arabella. Your sisters will never marry if you don’t comply. Is that what you want?”

“Father, what are you doing? You cannot expect me to marry a man because I tripped and he helped me up. And how dare you assume His Grace would even do this?” she demanded, glancing at the man.

The Duke of Sheffield had been insufferable, so far. Certainly, he would not be willing to marry her. Marry her! What a ridiculous idea. She certainly would not wish to marry him. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fire.

The Duke stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “My Lord, I assure you, nothing untoward happened here. Lady Arabella and I were merely conversing when she tripped and I caught her. There is no need for such drastic measures.”

Lady Lawrence, ever the opportunist, interjected with a sly smile, “It may not look that way to others, Your Grace. Appearances, after all, are everything in our society.”

“And pray, who might tell them, Lady Lawrence?” he asked.

Arabella had a faint hope that all might be well when she saw Lady Lawrence’s face drop a little. However, her father swiftly took control of the situation again. He gripped her arm tightly. “Your Grace, look at my daughter. She will be ruined. Everyone saw both of you rush to the library at the same time. Everyone will talk. Can you really look at yourself in the mirror knowing you’ve ruined her? And her sisters?”

“You arranged all of this,” Arabella accused. She yelped when her father dug his fingernails into her arm. “I do not want to marry,” she insisted defiantly.

“Think of your sisters. They are already getting older and have no husbands. If you end up ruined as well, they’ll never wed, and you will be three old maids. Do you want to have that on your conscience?” Lord Worcester hissed, then looked at the Duke. “Do you? You took advantage of my daughter—Lady Lawrence and I both saw it. I am sure you would not want to be known as a man who ruins young ladies in such a fashion.”

Arabella’s mind raced, torn between her duty to her family and her desires. Mixed in was the uncertainty that the Duke would not even want to marry her. She looked at him pleadingly, though she wasn’t sure what she was pleading for.

“I dare say I have not done anything wrong. Neither has your daughter,” he said, and she felt certain he’d dismiss the obvious threats.

“As I said, nobody will care. And as for who will tell others… I shall, of course,” Lady Lawrence stated. “The ton must be warned about the sort of menaces walking among them. And you will not scare me into not doing my duty.”

“I assure you, I did not mean to scare you. If I did, you’d know,” the Duke replied.

Lady Lawrence flinched just a little bit.

“I suppose it would not be very good for the Dukedom of Sheffield to have another scandal attached to its name,” Lord Worcester said.

“I hardly think my parents’ death was a scandal, Lord Worcester,” the Duke replied smoothly.

Arabella had to admit that she quite admired the glib way he spoke to her father. He wasn’t scared of him, and because the Duke outranked him, her father knew he couldn’t argue.

However, she had to remind herself that even though she enjoyed her father being put in his place, this would affect her life going forward. She might well be ruined and never find a husband now. And her sisters? They would be ruined too.

We’ll all be trapped in Hayward Manor forever!

She staggered sideways, almost grateful that her father was still gripping her arm because she would have fallen over otherwise.

“You see? She is realizing now that she’s ruined,” Lady Lawrence said and nodded toward Arabella, though her expression lacked any sort of goodwill.

Arabella looked down at the black and white marble floor, horrid visions of a life where her father tormented her and her sisters for eternity flashing before her eyes.

Suddenly, the Duke sighed. “Very well,” he said, and she looked at him. “I suppose we ought to get married.” He shrugged, as though he had just agreed to purchase a yard of fabric for curtains he wasn’t entirely sure he needed.

Arabella’s mouth dropped open, while her father blinked.

“You agree to marry my daughter?” Lord Worcester asked in disbelief. Then he recovered. “Good. Very good. You had better, otherwise I will have to demand satisfaction.”

Was the Duke smirking? Arabella couldn’t be sure, but she thought she’d seen his lips twitch a little. Yes, they did. He was… amused.

“It is a good thing that will not happen, for that would be a scandal neither of our houses could weather,” he said, then turned to Arabella. “My Lady, allow me to escort you out. I think we should at least share one dance before we are wed, do you not think?” he asked, offering her his hand.

“But the details,” Lord Worcester protested.

“They will be arranged soon enough,” the Duke said in a tone that brooked no argument. Then, he took Arabella’s arm, and the two of them walked out of the library.

Arabella could not feel her legs as they walked toward the ballroom. She’d rushed to the library seeking her sisters with a faint dream of leaving her home, where fights and arguments were a daily occurrence, and she’d emerged from it not only engaged but to a duke .

It could be a fairytale if one only looked at it from the surface. Alas, when she looked at the man she was to marry, her stomach twisted into knots. For this was no fairytale.

The man she was marrying was not a prince, but a volatile, mercurial man whom she could not understand. Hanna’s voice echoed in her mind.

“… never settle for a man you don’t love. Otherwise, you’ll end up trapped again in a house you’ll always want to leave.”

As they stopped in the arched doorway of the ballroom, Arabella understood that despite her promise to her sister, she’d done exactly the opposite—committed herself to a man she didn’t love, all for the sake of escaping her unbearable home.

Comments

0 Comments
Best Newest

Contents
Settings
  • T
  • T
  • T
  • T
Font

Welcome to FullEpub

Create or log into your account to access terrific novels and protect your data

Don’t Have an account?
Click above to create an account.

lf you continue, you are agreeing to the
Terms Of Use and Privacy Policy.