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“I want that, too,” Arabella said. She did. She knew that the only way she could have both was with Charles.
Her mother was frowning. “Do you truly believe that Mr. Conolly could keep you comfortable?” she asked, delicately.
“You know, I truly do,” Arabella replied. “I mean, he works for the gentlemen of the ton. How could he possibly be poor?”
Her mother inhaled, then exhaled, nodding. She was opening her mouth to say something when they were interrupted by the door flying open.
“I’m sorry Your Grace—” Mr. Blankley said. The rest of what he was apologizing for was cut off as Lady Linton and Lady Emily both burst into the room in a brightly-colored cloud of silk, ribbons, and wide-eyed upset.
“Your Grace! My Lady! Have you heard?” Lady Linton demanded.
“Have you heard the news?” Lady Emily asked, finishing her mother’s sentence.
“Goodness, no,” the Duchess said. “Whatever is the matter?”
“The Duke of Longmire has been found murdered,” Lady Linton said. Arabella had never been speechless in her entire life, but she was then.
She just sat there, her mouth hanging open. She certainly hadn’t wanted to marry the Duke, but she hadn’t wished a violent death upon him. The sudden change had her head spinning.
“When?” It was the only thing that she could think to say.
“He was found this morning,” Lady Emily said, then whispered. “He was found with his throat slit in a brothel.”
Arabella’s mouth fell open again. Her mind went blank.
“Mr. Blankley,” the Duchess called out. “Please bring some tea and brandy. We’ve all had a shock.” She grabbed Arabella’s hand. “Darling? Are you all right?”
“I think I’m feeling faint,” Arabella murmured. She was experiencing a myriad of emotions. She wasn’t quite sure which was which.
