Page 24 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

He turned to face the duchess, and she gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I assure you, Lady Arabella is safe in this house. She will not be left alone, and she will not be made to speak of anything she does not wish to speak of tonight."

Arabella blinked up at them. She wasn't accustomed to being spoken about in such a manner, and she had the odd sensation of being an audience member in some play she had no part in.

"I am asking you to go home, Lord Alderton, because she needs to rest," the duchess continued. "Do you understand me?"

There was a long silence in which Arabella counted the ticking of the clock on the mantel. Then, finally, Lord Alderton muttered, "Yes. I understand." He turned back to face Arabella. "Eleven o'clock."

It sounded like a promise.

"Eleven o'clock," the duchess confirmed.

Arabella knew he was still staring at her. She could feel it. But she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze any longer. Her hand had gone to her throat without her permission and she found herself covering the place where his eyes had been.

"Get some rest, Lady Arabella," he said, his tone gruff. "I shall see you in the morning."

She nodded, and a short while later, he left.

She missed him the moment he was gone. Which was silly, of course. But now she found herself alone with the Dowager Duchess of Ashworth. The formidable lady likely had questions, and Arabella…

Well. She had no answers. None that she could readily give, at least. And she hadn't the forethought or the mental capability to think through a lie.

The drawing room was entirely silent for a moment. But then the duchess reached for her hand. "Right, child. Up you come."

Arabella let herself be tugged to her feet.

The duchess's tone was the same her governess used to use. “No nonsense,” her mother had called it. It left no room for arguments, and one was helpless to do anything but comply.

"A room has been prepared for you," the duchess said as she led her to the foyer. "You are going to lie down, and someone shall bring you a tray. Your maid will be here within the hour with your things. We are not going to speak of any of this tonight. We shall speak in the morning."

"Your Grace," she started. And then she stopped, because…what could she say? She did not wish to go home and face her father. And she truly wanted nothing more than to be left alone in a quiet room so she could sift through her thoughts.

When she didn't finish, the duchess patted her hand. "I know."

Arabella felt a ridiculous urge to cry at the understanding in the other woman's voice. But she couldn't know. The duchess had no idea how foolish she'd been or how impossible her situation. "You cannot know."

The duchess sighed softly. "I know enough for tonight. I am hoping you will trust me with the rest in the morning."

Arabella opened her mouth, but promptly closed it. Would she? She did not know. But the fact that the duchess was willing to leave her in peace for the rest of the day was good enough for now.

So she let herself be led up the staircase and into a bedroom with pale blue walls and a bed already turned down. A maid was in the room, and there was a basin of warm water and a clean nightdress waiting on the chair.

The duchess turned to her. "Sleep if you can. You look as though you need a good night's rest."

Arabella very nearly laughed at that. She wasn't certain she'd had one decent night's sleep in two years. So yes. She supposed she did look rather weary.

The duchess went out and closed the door behind her. Arabella was left with the maid, who undressed her quietly and helped her into the clean nightdress. When the maid too had gone, Arabella sat down on the edge of the bed.

She raised her fingers to her throat. She could look in the mirror, but she chose not to. Lord Alderton's reaction to the sight told her what she needed to know.

Who did this to you.

She had never before heard such fury. Pierce's bad temper came with cold smiles and easy threats. Her father's anger toward her was delivered through long silences that she sometimes thought would never end.

So Lord Alderton's anger was new. That was likely why his voice still rang in her ears.

She lay back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling.

She had no idea what she would say to the duchess in the morning. What she would tell and what she would withhold. How she would explain her situation in such a way as to receive whatever help could be received without giving up anything she did not need to give up.