Page 15 of A Duke's Lustful Portrait
“Anything I can help with?” Fitzwilliam asked. Sebastian smiled at him. He was such a kind man, always willing to help his friend, even if Sebastian had not listened to a word he’d said in the last twenty minutes.
He chuckled. “How about ensuring I never do something as silly asproposingto someone,” he replied, an eyebrow raised as he teased his friend.
“Ah, one day you’ll fall in love, and then I won’t be able to stop you.”
I think maybe I already have.
But no. He couldn’t deny what he felt, but he couldn’t let it interfere. No matter what pull he felt towards Lady Arabella, he would not let his feelings get in the way of his path of revenge. Perhaps he could even use her to punish him.
Chapter 8
“The next ball is on Saturday night, Arabella,” her father said as he speared his guinea fowl with his fork. “You’ll be there to paint, of course.”
“Of course, Father,” she said.
It was Monday evening, the only evening that the family dined together. The formal dining table had been laid and a veritable feast was spread before them. From salad and potatoes to roasted guinea fowl and beef pie. There was trifle for dessert, taking up pride of place in the centre of the table, and even a lemon posset.
Arabella blinked at all the food, overwhelmed as she always was by the richness of it. They were but three people and there was more than they could eat in a week. She only hoped the servants got the spoils rather than the lot going into the bin.
“Oh, Edward, must she?” Priscilla cried. She had barely touched her food, pushing it around the plate as she had a habit of doing. “It’s the Pembertons’ annual ball that night, and we’ve received a special invitation.”
“You think I care about some ball at the Pembertons?” he snapped, staring at his mother as if she had suggested something crazy. “Besides, Arabella doesn’t want to go to boring events like that.”
Except Arabella did want to go. She wanted to go very much indeed. If nothing else, it might take her mind off the Dark Duke, but it was more than that. She wanted dearly to be part of the real world, thenormalworld, and not merely a pawn in her father’s games. She wanted to make friends and experience life.
To find love.
“I understand that young Arabella is very sought after amongst theton,” Priscilla continued, pushing on regardless of Sinclair’s reaction. “And at the age she is now, she doesn’t have much longer to find herself a—”
“Mother!”
Sinclair’s voice was as loud as a roar, and both Priscilla and Arabella sat back, almost cowering in their seats. Silence reigned for a moment before Priscilla tried again. Arabella watched her in awe. She knew the old woman was frightened of her father, yet she would put herself in the firing line for her granddaughter.
“I was only suggesting that if you want your daughter to marry, then perhaps she needs to be seen within the market.”
She didn’t look up from her plate as she spoke, and Arabella hated seeing her like that. When they were alone, her grandmother was so confident and strong, so different from the quivering wreck her father turned her into. She hated him all the more for doing that.
“She will marry when I decide the time is right,” Sinclair said. His voice was calm and steady again, in control, and it made Arabella shiver.
“Please, don’t argue on my account,” she said, looking at each of them in turn. “There will be other balls, Grandmother. And Father, I am happy to paint at your event this week.”
Sinclair sat back with a satisfied grin, while Priscilla shot her granddaughter an annoyed look. She would be interrogated later, but she wouldn’t mind as long as it stopped their bickering. Arabella couldn’t stand their bickering, and she had to protect her grandmother from her father’s wrath, even if that meant attending another of his events.
There was more to it than that, though. Deep down, in a secret part of herself that she barely showed herself, she actually wanted to attend the Lord’s Society event. It meant she would get to see the Duke of Ravenswood again. It meant perhaps he might talk to her again.
She had thought of nothing else in the two weeks since they first met. He invaded every part of her life, even worming his way into her dreams. When she lay alone in bed at night, waiting for sleep to take her—that’s when she thought about him most. In those moments, she let her hand drift across the soft flesh of her belly, enjoying the sensations it caused.
She had even imagined painting him in the nude, his body on show while she watched, examined, and lusted after him. She would inch her nightgown up, bit by bit, until she was on display and her own probing fingers had easy access. Little did the duke know that he had pleasured her over and again at night when she was alone.
“I shall leave you to it,” her father said, getting up from the table quite suddenly. “I have some correspondence to deal with. I will see you Saturday, Arabella.”
“Aren’t you going to stay for pudding, Father?” Arabella asked, more out of politeness than any desire to have him remain in the room.
He didn’t even deign to answer them, disappearing from the room without a reply.
“That’s better,” Priscilla said with a giggle once he was safely out of the room. “I much prefer it when we get to dine alone.”
Arabella allowed herself a small smile. “Yes, I do, too, if I’m perfectly honest.”
