Page 7 of The Duke Who Claimed Her

“But they will know,” her father cut him off, allowing his excitement to show. “Somehow, it will be found out. And then what? You might deny it. You might refuse to admit it. But it will ruin my daughter as surely as the sun will rise tomorrow. No matter your intent, you have damned her!”

The Duke looked stunned and worried, his face pale and jaw clenched. Arabella could see him trying to work through the situation to find a way out.

And all the while, her father’s grin crept up the side of his face. Triumph, as he saw it. He was always quite skilled at manipulation.

“There is only one course of action,” her father continued, giddy now with the scent of victory in the air. “You must marry my daughter, lest her reputation be ruined for all time.”

The Duke froze, his body becoming stiff. As her father’s words sank in, Arabella saw a transformation in the Duke that truly scared her. His hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightened, and a storm brewed in his eyes that made the one outside look pale by comparison.

“How dare you?” the Duke hissed.

“Excuse me?” Her father blinked.

“You mean to manipulate me?” He seethed at her father. “You truly believe that…” His body shook. “Think carefully about what you say next, because those may be the last words you ever speak.”

Once again, Arabella’s father hesitated, the realization passing through him that he had overstepped and that the Duke was the one man he could not intimidate. Arabella held her breath, praying he was wise enough to recognize his mistake.

“I… I am not trying to manipulate you,” he said, though with little conviction. “I am merely pointing out the difficult position you have placed me in.”

“No,” the Duke said. “You created this situation, and now you mean to use it.”

“My daughter is my only concern,” he said, making Arabella flare with anger. “I do not mean to insult you, Your Grace. I would not dare. But surely you can see the bind I am in?”

“No, Father!” Arabella came into herself suddenly.

She had been there before. Throughout her life, she found herself on the receiving end of her father’s schemes. And every single time, she bowed her head and went along with them because she had no other choice. None was the answer.

But I do have a choice. I will not be his to control.

“Stop it.” She strode toward her father. “You know well enough that what you say is a lie, and I will not allow you to try and manipulate His Grace. Or me.”

“Quiet,” her father snarled.

“I will not be,” she said bravely. Not like her at all, but with the Duke there… for some reason, his mere presence gave her a sense of bravery she’d never experienced before. “Even if my life is left in ruins, I would rather that than be caught up in one of your schemes. For once, accept that you do not own⁠—”

The slap came from nowhere.

In the blink of an eye, her father’s hand found the side of her face. White hot pain exploded from her cheek, and Arabella gasped as she stumbled back.

“You ungrateful, girl,” her father sneered as he held up his hand to threaten a second slap. “Know your place, or I will remind you where exactly you belong.”

“Enough!” The Duke was like a boulder rolling down a hill. He came for her father, his bulk shaking the abbey as he moved. A second later, he had one huge hand wrapped around her father’s arm as he positioned himself between them. “Try that again, and I will break your hand.”

“She is my daughter,” her father growled as he tried to wrench his arm free. “I will punish her as is my right!”

Arabella could not see the Duke’s face, but she felt his fury as he stared her father down. Not as tall as he was, but broader in the shoulders and infinitely more powerful. He positioned himself over her father so that her father looked little more than a child. Even with her swollen cheek, Arabella took some joy in the sight.

“Your daughter, perhaps,” the Duke snarled warningly at her father. “But my betrothed, and as such, you will not touch her.”

Arabella gasped.

Her father’s eyes widened and he stopped resisting. “Does that mean…” He laughed gleefully.

The Duke groaned and released her father’s arm. Then he turned to face Arabella. He did not appear excited or happy. There was no warmth in his gray eyes. And when their stares met, Arabella was caught between relief, fear, and regret. Another marriage that she did not want, forced on her because she had never been in control of her own fate.

But how to feel about this one? Was it a blessing, or was it a curse the likes of which she could not fathom? All things considered, she could not say.

All she could do was stare as the Duke’s voice dropped to a whisper, again implying he was unhappy with the words he spoke.