Page 20 of The Duke Who Claimed Her

Arabella was brought back into the room as a silence settled over them. Breaths were held. Eyes widened. Suddenly, she began to shake, nerves overtaking her body. Slowly, she dared to lift her gaze and meet the Duke’s eyes.

He wore a frown. His jaw was set. She doubted that he meant to kiss her, but when that idea planted itself in her mind… Would he dare? Does he want to?

Her eyes flicked to his lips. Her breath caught in her throat. While there was nothing romantic about their marriage, she wondered for a brief moment if such a state of being might be found. If the Duke did kiss her, and if she kissed him back, might it break the spell of sorrow that she had been held in all day?

Would it prove that he might care about her?

The Duke took her by the hands. They were cold, stiff, and awkward. He did not grip her tightly, nor did he offer comfort. He neither smiled nor looked at her. And Arabella’s heart sank—the final confirmation of what this marriage was about to become.

Things moved quickly after that.

The Dowager was up and approaching them, kissing her cousin on the cheek and smiling as if this was the most wonderful day. The crowd gradually stood and moved forward, clapping and offering congratulations. But few singled out Arabella directly, and she felt like little more than a prop.

“I think it is time we return to my estate,” the Dowager announced so that all could hear. “Before this weather takes a turn for the worse. If that is even possible.”

By that point, the Duke had let go of Arabella’s hands and was already walking down the aisle. As he moved away, Arabella turned to see her father watching, and he could not have looked more proud.

“I hope you are happy, Arabella. His Grace certainly appears so.”

My father is either not seeing the same man that I am, or he is a little too pleased with how morbid the Duke’s expression is.

Happy was not the word that Arabella would use to describe how the Duke looked, which further highlighted to her the trap that she was slowly walking into. One that she could no longer escape.

It was done. Her fate was sealed, and Arabella knew for the first time without question that she had made a terrible mistake. Worse still, it was too late to do anything about it.

Glastonbury Manor looked different from when Arabella had last seen it. Back then, there had been a sense of hope that came with her effort to get a glimpse of the house. She did not know what to expect from her upcoming marriage, but she believed it could not be any worse than what she was leaving behind.

As the carriage neared the manor this time, it was difficult to see her new home as anything but the prison she was now sure it would be.

The time of day was late, as the breakfast had gone on longer than expected. Not because the Duke and she were having such a wonderful time, but because she got the distinct sense that he did not want to leave. He sat by her side, did his duty, but he did not talk to her, nor did he assure her that all would be well and that she had nothing to fear.

The manor sat in a state of impending darkness. The storm had passed, but the dark clouds still hung thick and heavy, leaving no light to be seen. It reared up on the small hill, its tall walls imposing and warning. Arabella’s stomach twisted, her body trembled, and she could do little more than stare as her face paled.

“It has been a long day.” They were the first words that the Duke had spoken to her all day. “Rest is what we both need, I think.”

“Rest?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“If you are hungry, I can have the staff make you something. All you need to do is ask.”

Arabella was not hungry; she was terrified. The Duke had already explained what this marriage was, but it offered her little real comfort. In fact, she was beginning to suspect she had been lied to.

After all, he had given her the appearance of choice. And that appearance had done much to give her confidence and a belief that she was making the right decision. For a time there, she had truly believed that the Duke meant right by her, that she could even trust him…

Now, he was so cold and so distant that she struggled to ignore her father’s warning: that the Duke was worse than he seemed, and that she had willingly fallen into his trap.

“I am not hungry…” She bowed her head pathetically. “But thank you.”

She sensed his eyes on her. She felt him watching her and was sure he saw how uncomfortable and uncertain she was. All it would take from him was a word of reassurance or comfort, anything to give her hope.

Typically, he gave her no such thing.

“Let us be about it, then.” The carriage came to a sudden stop, the doors opened, and he climbed out. Then, surprisingly, he turned and offered her his hand.

She looked at the hand as if unsure what to do with it. He cleared his throat, appearing irritated. Slowly and carefully, she took his hand, and he helped her down. Just like at the ceremony, his touch was cold, and it hardly made her believe he cared for her at all.

Worse still, as soon as she was down from the carriage, he let her go, turned, and walked toward the manor.

With no choice, she followed, forever being led about by men who had power over her.