Page 50 of The Duke Who Claimed Her

“You do,” he said with a grimace of shame. “The path you want me to walk down leads to pain and suffering. Arabella might be upset with me now, but she will hurt all the more if I ignore what I know.” He forced himself to look at his cousin. “I am not a good person, Penelope, and pretending otherwise does Arabella no good.”

Penelope looked at him with pity. “You forget, I knew your father too. Perhaps better than you did. And do you know what you and he do not have in common? He did not care what he was, nor did he waste time thinking about the pain that he brought to others. That is who he was. It was not marriage that did it, and it never was.”

Caspian said nothing.

This was not the first time that he and Penelope had had this argument, and he doubted that it would be the last. There was nothing that she could say to change his mind, because if there was, he would have done so a long time ago.

Although even as Penelope reminded him of this, images of Arabella passed through his mind. This might not have been the first time they had argued about this exact thing, but it was the first time there had been someone in Caspian’s life who made him stop and consider if he was being honest with himself, or merely stubborn.

Could I be a better person than my father was? Could Arabella make me want to be that person…

“That you are so worried in the first place is proof that you are not your father,” Penelope said as she stood up and pushed back her chair. “And I just pray, Caspian, that you realize this. Not for Arabella. Not even for Timothy. But for you. Despite what you believe, you deserve to be happy, and while it might sound absurd to your ears, I truly do think that Arabella might just be the person who can make you that.”

Again, he said nothing, looking away as his cousin left the room.

Her words, however, did not leave with her. And as Caspian tried to return to his work, those words echoed around his head, sounding a little too tempting and hopeful so that for the first time ever, he wanted to believe them.

Just as he wanted to change…

Chapter Eighteen

Arabella and Timothy were outside, playing in the garden together, when a change took over the young boy that had her heart catching in her throat. He was running ahead of her, darting between bushes and hedges, laughing gaily and without a care in the world, when he suddenly stopped dead.

At first, she assumed that he was hiding. Often, he would do so, encouraging her to try and find him. Always too, when she did, he would declare that she had cheated, and then he would run away again.

This time, however, he stepped out from around the hedge with a face that was as pale as a ghost. His eyes were wide too, fear found in them, and that was when Arabella knew that something was wrong.

“Timothy…” Her voice cracked because she had never seen him so afraid. Nervous, perhaps. Unsure and cautious. But terrified as he was? It was anathema to the joyous child. “What is the matter? What has…” Her words caught in her throat when she saw the cause.

Timothy took another nervous step from the hedge, revealing that he was not alone. With him, one hand now resting on the child’s shoulder, stood Arabella’s father.

“Ah, Arabella,” he said pleasantly, laughter in his voice. “Look who I found.” He kept his hand on Timothy’s shoulders, squeezing it just enough to keep the boy from running away.

What is he doing here?

Arabella looked around the garden, confirming that they were alone. Her father must have sneaked in over the fence, lying in wait until she came outside to play with Timothy. Did he know that they often came outside at this hour? Had he been watching them? And for how long?

Such a thought made Arabella’s blood turn to ice…

“Ti… Timothy,” she stammered. “Come here, now. Come on…” She forced a smile as she waved him forward, praying that her father would not do anything drastic.

Thankfully, her father lifted his hand from Timothy’s shoulder, at which point Timothy sprinted forward. His face was still pale, his large eyes still held fear, and as he ran, he nearly tripped over in his bid to put as much distance between himself and her father as he could.

“I am sorry, Arabella,” he said, sniffing back tears. “I did not see him, and then he was just there.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” She maintained her smile, desperate to project strength. “And no need to worry, he is just my father.”

“He is?”

“Yes.” She added a laugh, praying it would help to ease the boy. “Now, go inside, Timothy. Find Mrs. Robertson until I return.”

“But…” He looked back at her father. “He… He scares me, Arabella.”

“There is no need to worry.” If only that were true. “Now, do as I say.” She raised a commanding eyebrow at him. “I assure you, you have nothing to worry about.”

It was clear that Timothy did not want to leave her, and that alone was almost a reason to smile. But he was also worried, scared of her father’s presence, and it took little convincing to see the young boy sprint across the garden and inside to safety.

And then, Arabella and her father were alone.