Page 28 of The Duke Who Claimed Her

“I do wish to apologize, Your Grace,” she continued merrily. “I meant to wake you earlier, to see you ready for the day, but I decided against it.” Her smile held. “It was not personal, of course. Heavens no!” she laughed. “But I was on my way to wake you, and I said to myself, ‘Mrs. Robertson, I am sure that the last thing she wants this morning is you disturbing her. After the night she had!’” She laughed again with delight. “So, I thought it prudent to let you sleep in on your first morning here. I hope you do not mind.”

“You…” Arabella frowned. “So, His Grace did not ask that I be left alone?”

“No, Your Grace, certainly not.”

Arabella breathed a small sigh of relief. It was such a silly thing, but she was pleased to see that he was not so petty. Then again, did that mean that he had not thought about her at all?

And why do I care? I should want that!

“In fact, if you have time later, I hope that we might discuss your morning routine and what you expect from us,” Mrs. Roberston continued. “If you wish to be woken with the sun, if you prefer to sleep in, and at what time you usually break your fast. This is your home now, Your Grace, and it is yours to command.”

“It is?” She blinked again.

“Of course,” Mrs. Robertson said with cheer. “Whatever you wish, however you wish it, just say the word.”

Arabella found herself smiling. While the Duke was a storm of sorrow and moroseness, Mrs. Robertson was the complete opposite. And while it was still so early, far too soon to know what to expect, Arabella felt a small flutter of relief erupt in her stomach.

She was in charge of her home, which was very unusual for her, but also exactly what she wanted.

“We can discuss such things later,” Arabella said. “For now, I am ravished. Might you show me to the breakfast room?”

“Certainly,” Mrs. Robertson said. “However, I must inform you that His Grace wishes to see you at once. He did not clarify if it was to be after you broke your fast, but based on what I know of him…” She continued to smile, but it was not quite as warm. “I would suggest not keeping him waiting.”

“He does?” Arabella swallowed. “Did he say what for?”

“Not to me,” she said. “Likely, he just wishes to make sure that you are settling in.”

That seemed unlikely. Arabella had decided she needed to stay away from the Duke at all costs, especially after what happened the night before. Given how it ended, she expected him to think the same way.

But why did he want to speak to her so soon? Her mind turned as she tried to fathom the reason. Perhaps he just wanted to check on her? Perhaps he wished to apologize? Or maybe, and most likely, he was set on doubling down on what he had told her last evening. That he wanted to ensure that Arabella knew her place.

To avoid him was right, smart, and how close Arabella came to ignoring his request to speak.

No… this is my home, and I need to start acting like it.

Arabella wanted her freedom, but that could not exist if she was too scared to speak to the one man who could give it to her. What sort of life would it be if she spent it in fear and hiding? Certainly not her own, and certainly not what she was promised.

Besides, seeing him again might be a good thing. Maybe, if she were able to assert herself as she needed to, she could finally put her confusion to bed and confirm with the Duke once and for all what she expected. She had to believe that she could.

“Lead the way,” she said to Mrs. Robertson as she brought herself up, took a calming breath, and braced for what she was certain would be a most awkward encounter.

One minute later, Arabella was stepping into the Duke’s study.

She knew the moment she did it that it would not be a repeat of the night before. The room was cold, and she started to shake as soon as she walked in. It was dark too, but not in an atmospheric way. The Duke sat behind his desk, his head bent over his work, and she sensed a guarded determination in him not to look at her—to act as if she did not exist.

“You… You sent for me?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“I did,” he said, still not looking up; whatever he worked on, it held his full attention. He let that statement sit between them, the scratching of his quill the only noise present. It was sharp, and Arabella winced as it cut through the parchment.

“Might I ask why?” she offered when he did not speak.

“I take it that Mrs. Robertson spoke to you this morning?” he said, still not looking.

“She did.”

“Good,” he said. “She will be your point of contact for all things. Whatever you need, you are to go to her directly. And if you need anything from me, seek her first, and she will pass your message along.”

Arabella frowned. She was not so much hurt by his cold detachment but surprised by it. After how he had behaved last night…