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“Yes.” Charles got in after him, shutting the door.
* * *
Arabella was looking for Charles. He had vanished, quite suddenly. She had waited, while he’d paid his respects to Lady Danbury. Then, she’d been waylaid by Lady Emily Linton, who had wanted to talk about the ball that her mother still planned on throwing, but at a later date.
Arabella stepped out into the hallway where she found the butler looking harried.
“Can I help you with something, My Lady?” he asked, folding his hands in front of him.
“Have you seen Mr. Conolly?” she asked him.
“I have, My Lady,” the butler replied. “I just saw him and Lord Dunsmore out of the house.”
“Out? Whatever for?” she asked.
“Not to worry, My Lady,” he said. “They mentioned that they had somewhere that they needed to be.”
“I didn’t know that Mr. Conolly knew Lord Dunsmore,” she murmured.
“What’s going on out here?” She turned to find her father, standing there. The Duke of Longmire was there, too.
“I was just returning,” Arabella said, passing in between the two gentlemen. She made her way over to the refreshments table. It was laden with little finger sandwiches and tea. She poured herself a cup.
“Such a tragedy,” the Duke of Longmire said.
“Indeed,” Arabella agreed. She added cream and sugar to her tea, stirring thoroughly. She set the spoon down onto the saucer.
“It just goes to show that you should live life while you have it,” the Duke mused, looking at her.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she said, bringing the cup to her lips. She swallowed, still feeling deeply concerned about Charles.
“My Lady,” the Duke of Longmire stated. She glanced over at him, to find that he was looking at her sternly. “I couldn’t help, but overhear that you were looking for Mr. Conolly.”
“Why does it matter?” she asked, already tired.
“You wouldn’t want to be found, fraternizing with a mere barrister. The ton talks, as you know.”
“Oh, I am well aware, Your Grace,” she replied. “I just don’t understand why you are making it your particular concern.”
“I think you know.” The Duke smiled a little. Arabella felt stretched thin, she kept her features composed and her tone light.
“No. I don’t.” She shook her head.
“I care for you—” he began.
“With all due respect, Your Grace, you don’t know me that well,” she said. They had only been acquainted, within the past week.
“I’d like to, My Lady,” he said. “If you’d only allow me to do so.”
“Your Grace,” she replied. “We are at a funeral luncheon. I can’t help but feel that these attentions are gravely out of order.”
He nodded. “Very well, My Lady. I can only ask that you take some time to consider me, at your convenience.” He bowed and then left her alone.
Arabella sipped her tea. Her eyes travelled the room, her gaze meeting her father’s. He raised an eyebrow. Clearly, he’d been watching her discussion with the Duke and didn’t like what he’d seen.
