Page 71 of A Duke's Lustful Portrait
“Even if he doesn’t,” Arabella continued, still marching up and down the room, “he has already destroyed my heart. He and Sebastian have done so together, at least. I am broken, Grandmother. I am tainted and hurt, and I have a reputation that trails me. There is no chance for me now.”
Not unless Sebastian somehow wins this battle and begs me for forgiveness.
She shook away that thought, not allowing hope to seep into her. She had to expect the worst to avoid the biggest disappointment. She had to assume Sebastian would be killed and she would be trapped forever, or otherwise, the optimism tore at her heart.
Besides, reconciliation now was surely impossible. She still loved him, for love does not merely disappear in the blink of an eye, but he had hurt her so much. His words stung, and his quick disappearance hurt even more. She wanted hope and could just about feel a glimmer of it somewhere at the back of her heart, but her mind told her over and again—there was no way to fix this.
Then I shall have to save myself.
“I know it feels like that now, but—”
“Yes, yes!” Arabella snapped, waving her grandmother away. “It won’t always feel like that. You are always silencing me with platitudes!”
“Platitudes are all I have,” Priscilla said quietly.
Arabella felt a stab of guilt. It wasn’t her grandmother’s fault—none of this was. Priscilla had done nothing but love and support her. But she couldn’t bring herself to apologize, so, with a huff, she marched up the length of the room again, the skirt of her gown snapping between her legs as she went.
“Really, Arabella. Stop pacing. Please. You’re exhausting me!”
Arabella didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She bubbled over with a nervous energy that she couldn’t control. If she could direct it elsewhere, she would, but she was trapped and had no way of fixing all that had gone wrong in her life. She had no way of saving Sebastian, nor even herself.
“I don’t know how you can remain so calm,” Arabella said in her grandmother’s direction.
“I’m not calm,” Priscilla said rather calmly. She pushed her needle through the delicate fabric, her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth. “But I am aware that we must preserve our energy for when the time comes.”
“Time comes?”
Arabella swung around to face Priscilla. Priscilla sighed and put her needlework down beside her.
“I know you are scared, Arabella. I am, too. I have seen your father in many guises, and none have frightened me quite like he was last night.”
“It’s the false amusement that is so terrifying, I think,” Arabella said. Without thinking, she lowered herself into the chair by the card table, letting her chin rest in her hand while her eyes watched the past dance in front of them.
“We need to be ready for our chance, prepared to take the opportunity when it arises.”
Arabella looked curiously at Priscilla. Her grandmother sounded as if she knew more than she was telling, as if she had conjured a plan.
“What makes you think an opportunitywillarise?”
Priscilla sighed and clasped her hands in her lap, looking directly at Arabella. “I told you that your father’s chamberlain has been helping me put a little money aside.”
“Yes?”
Arabella could feel her heart in her throat, the steady beat making it hard to breathe.
“It’s not enough really for you to live on nor even to truly set you up comfortably. But itisenough to get you away from here, and once you’re safe, I can send more.”
“Absolutely not,” Arabella said, resolute in her decision. She rose from her seat and began pacing again. “I would not leave without you, Grandmother. Under no circumstances.”
“But, Arabella, you must understand. It is no longer a matter of choice but of urgency. I love you dearly, and it will break my heart to see you leave this place, but equally, I will be relieved to know that you are out of your father’s reach. Mr Wilson says he knows a family in the north of England who can—”
“And what about you?” Arabella cried, swinging around to face her again. “What will happen to you when I’m gone? You say you’ll send more money, but do you honestly think Father will give you even the smallest measure of freedom? If he even allows you to live?”
Priscilla baulked as if she hadn’t thought of such an outcome. “He wouldn’t kill his own mother, surely.”
Arabella looked at her sadly. “I would not put it past him. He is more beast than man.”
Priscilla looked at the floor and nodded. Her face told of years of sadness, burdens weighing down on her heavily. Arabella ran to sit next to her, taking her soft, leathery hand in her own.
