Page 12 of The Duke Who Claimed Her

“Oh, will you stop your posturing?” the Dowager sighed. “It is decided, so there is no need to beat your chest as if you have anything to add.”

“How dare you!”

“Save it for someone who cares for your opinion,” the Dowager scoffed.

Beside her, Arabella heard the Duke chuckle. She looked up, frowned, and he rolled his eyes. It was a small thing, but it told Arabella that he was not nearly so commanding and controlling as he first appeared. And that he was willing to be spoken to that way by his cousin, a woman… I will need to speak to him again, to apologize, and hopefully show him that I am not nearly as ungrateful as he probably assumes.

They stood together, his hand still on her back, and Arabella felt more confident, more at peace, and more certain of her future than she ever had before.

“Caspian!” The Dowager was once again addressing the Duke. “Are you organizing the marriage license?”

“I hope to have it arranged in a few days,” he said.

“Perfect,” she said. “The ceremony will happen here, I think…” She looked around the room. “That way, the breakfast can be hosted at my estate.”

“Now, just one moment!” Arabella’s father spoke up again. “I ought to be the one who⁠—”

“Until then, what do you say we take a trip?” the Dowager said over Arabella’s father. “No doubt, Miss Witherington is curious about the man she will one day call her husband. And you must be curious about her.”

“What are you suggesting?” the Duke asked.

“Timothy has been sent to Glastonbury with Miss White,” she said.

“Oh good, you found him,” the Duke said with a sigh.

The Dowager smirked as if with amusement. “He was hiding in the morning room, but yes, we found him.”

The Duke chuckled at that.

“Now that Timothy is on his way home,” the Dowager continued. “I would think that you might wish to introduce them before the big day. And as the day is still young, why not now? Miss Witherington ought to see her new home, as she ought to understand what she is getting herself into.”

“Timothy?” Arabella asked again. “Who is Timothy?”

“Oh dear,” the Dowager said. “You did not tell her?”

“She will learn in time.” The Duke stepped forward and turned. “Miss Witherington, if you will follow me. My cousin will escort us, meaning that…” He glared at Arabella’s father. “You are done here.”

Her father steamed. “This is highly absurd! I have every right⁠—”

“To keep your mouth shut,” the Duke snarled. “Miss Witherington, follow me.” He glared one more time at Arabella’s father and then strode from the room.

“Come, dear,” the Dowager said to her with a warm smile. “Let us get this started. No reason to wait around.”

Arabella hesitated. She thought of checking with her father, to ask if she was allowed to follow the Duke. Only, she realized with a thrill, that she no longer had to. She was not his to control, she was not his to push around, and the look on his face when he came to realize this… Perhaps this marriage will not be nearly so bad as I thought.

With that, she walked out of the small room, right past her father, stepping into a new life she did not know and was not sure what to expect. One thing was certain, though: it could not possibly be worse than the life she had left behind.

Chapter Five

The carriage ride to Glastonbury Manor was not as awkward as it could have been. That was only because of the Dowager’s presence. She sat beside the Duke, while Arabella sat across from them. Throughout the long, silent ride, the Dowager wore a knowing smirk as she looked between the two of them. She had something to say, or Arabella thought, but she refused to speak.

Rain pounded the windows, fogging them up so it was hard to see through. That made her focus inside the carriage. And while Arabella tried her best not to stare at her husband, she found it pretty difficult.

He carried himself with an air of purposeful authority. Not mean. Not dark. But powerful, commanding, the kind who expected things to go his way. Beyond that first impression, however, Arabella could not stop examining his face. Those sharp, perfect features, his full lips, and his gray eyes that carried a hint of sadness.

He never looked at her, and it seemed deliberate. No doubt, he was angry with her. No doubt, he was still deciding whether their marriage would continue.

As soon as she got the chance, Arabella would apologize. She would not bend, however. Nor would she submit. But she would try to find a middle ground. Anything to save her having to return to her father.