Page 59 of A Duke's Lustful Portrait
Her grandmother stirred sugar into her tea. The spoon rattling against the cup was so loud it made Arabella wince.
“I returned early. I had rather a bad headache.”
“Oh dear,” Priscilla said. “I do hope you are feeling better now.”
Arabella finally looked up at the old woman’s kindly, concerned eyes. “Much, thank you, though I am still tired.”
Priscilla nodded, her brow furrowed, then set about putting breakfast foods onto her plate in silence. Arabella let her eyes flutter closed for a moment, appreciating the calm familiarity of the situation. She didn’t want to return to her normal life. Sebastian had brought colour, excitement, and hope. But returning to her normal life was for the best, and she knew it. It may have been dangerous and often unpleasant, but at least she knew it well.
“Was it anyone special last night?” Priscilla asked, feigning disinterest. “Anyone I might have heard of?”
Arabella shook her head. “No, no. I don’t think so. Just a minor member of the society.”
“Hmm.”
Priscilla took a bite of her breakfast and chewed thoughtfully. Arabella shifted in her seat, feeling oddly under surveillance.
“It’s just I thought I overheard your father directing the coachman to the Duke of Ravenswood’s London residence last night,” Priscilla said eventually.
Arabella’s head shot up. “I—”
“It’s all right,” Priscilla said, holding her hands up as if to calm her. “I said nothing to your father, of course. But if youwereat the duke’s home and quite alone, I must know, Arabella. Is your virtue still intact?”
Arabella’s cheeks burned, and she averted her eyes, unable to meet her grandmother’s gaze.
“Oh, Arabella, my poor girl.”
Priscilla got up and moved around the table to sit beside her granddaughter. She pulled Arabella into an embrace, and Arabella let her head rest on her shoulder.
“Is that why you are so out of sorts today? Was he unkind to you?”
Arabella shook her head firmly. “No, he has been nothing but a gentleman.”
Her chin wobbled, the tears beginning to flow, and she buried her head into her grandmother’s hair. She desperately didn’t want Priscilla to be disappointed in her, and shame washed over her as she thought of how loose and free she had been. But it had felt sorightwith Sebastian, and she loved him so much.
“Then what is it, my dear? Come on now, tears will solve nothing.”
She rubbed her hand down Arabella’s arm, just as she had when Arabella was a child and she had fallen or was upset. As desperate as Arabella was to escape her father, the idea of leaving Priscilla behind broke her heart. She slowed her breathing and stopped the tears, then pulled back.
“I love him, Grandmother.”
Priscilla reached up and wiped the tears from Arabella’s cheeks, offering her a small chuckle. “Yes, child. That much is obvious. But love should not cause one so much pain. Does he not feel the same?”
Arabella sighed and turned back to her breakfast. She picked up her teacup, cradling it in her hands, and leaned against the back of the chair, her eyes on her forgotten toast. “He says he loves me, and I believe him. Ifeelit. But you know he’s a member of the Lord’s Society.”
“That is unfortunate, yes,” Priscilla replied.
“And then there’s my father. Poor George … well, he experienced my father’s wrath first-hand.”
“Yes,” Priscilla repeated, nodding her head. She, too, stared at the toast now as if the answers could be found there. “I am so sorry your father is like this, Arabella. If I could fix it …”
“I know. It’s not your fault. I have come to believe that some people are born bad.”
“Perhaps,” Priscilla agreed. “He always was a little … harsh, even as a boy.”
“Was he?” Arabella looked at her grandmother curiously. The old woman rarely spoke of the old days when her father was a child—or even the times her mother was alive.
“He was sent home from Eton for bullying on more than one occasion, but when he reached the age of thirteen or fourteen, it all stopped suddenly. At the time, I was thrilled, of course. I thought he had grown out of it.”
