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“Come in,” her father called out.
When she entered, he was scowling darkly. He had a glass of brandy in front of him. As she stared at him, he took a sip of it, setting the glass down. He didn’t speak, merely waited for her to say something.
“What did you tell Mr. Conolly?” she demanded. Her hands were in fists at her sides.
“What did you expect me to say?” he replied.
“But, Pappa—we’re in love…”
“You mean to tell me that you’ve fallen in love with my barrister?” he demanded, angrily. She barely recognized him.
Who is this? This isn’t the father who told me that I should fall in love.
“Yes.”
“That’s as good as falling in love with the butler or the cook!” he roared in anger.
“You told me that I should fall in love before marrying,” she pointed out, more hurt than anything.
“With a gentleman of noble birth! At the very least, a Viscount,” he roared. She flinched a little, but stood her ground.
“Is there any way to convince you otherwise?” she asked.
“No.” He looked away from her. “Get out of my sight.”
“Very well then, if you do not change your mind in regard to Mr. Conolly, then I shall never marry.”
“You will do as I say,” he growled.
“I will not,” she retorted. She turned and left, making her way to her room, where she sequestered herself for the rest of the day.
* * *
Charles and Arthur were out at the Black Dog. He had called on Arthur as soon as he had left the Duke of Tiverwell’s. Arthur had the absolute class not to sayI told you so. He bought Charles a round, then set the tankard down in front of him.
“Tell me,” he said, gently, then sat back to listen.
“I’ve never been so mortified in my entire life,” Charles said. “He told me that I will only come when called.”
“Like a dog!” Arthur raised his eyebrows. Then looked down at the tankard of ale between his hands. “At least he didn’t fire you.”
“No. He needs me too much,” Charles replied grimly.
“Well, there’s still time that he may change his mind,” Arthur said.
“Doubtful,” Charles muttered morosely. He stared into the depths of his tankard. He could see his reflection in the drink’s surface.
Arthur was silent for a long time. So long that Charles finally looked up. Arthur was studying him sadly.
“You really do love her, then?” he asked.
“I really do,” Charles said. He downed his entire drink.
“Have another,” Arthur suggested.
“I will, thank you,” Charles replied, waving to the barkeep.
Arthur sat and listened to Charles’s woes. Never once did he suggest that Charles find another more suitable woman or lady. He merely sat and listened. It was exactly what Charles needed. He didn’t think that he would be able to move past Arabella.
