Page 6 of A Virgin for His Grace
Both women turned to him with identical expressions ofpolite inquiry, though Arabella's held a wariness that her professional mask could not quite conceal.
"Your salary," Devon continued, moving back toward his desk and withdrawing a sealed envelope from one of the drawers. "I believe you will find the amount adequate to your needs."
Arabella accepted the envelope with reluctance, her cheeks pinking with embarrassment at this stark reminder of her changed circumstances. She was now a woman who worked for her living, dependent upon the generosity of a man whose reputation was exceeded only by his wealth.
"I am certain it will be more than sufficient," she said quietly, tucking the envelope into her reticule without examining its contents.
"There is no shame in honest employment, Miss Greystone," Devon said gently, as though he had read her thoughts. "Many ladies of quality have found themselves in reduced circumstances through no fault of their own."
The kindness in his voice was almost more difficult to bear than his earlier arrogance had been. Arabella found herself blinking back tears that she absolutely refused to shed in his presence.
"Indeed," she managed. "Now, if you will excuse us, I believe Lady Livia was about to show me to my chambers."
"Of course." Devon bowed with perfect courtesy, but as the women moved toward the door, he spoke again. "MissGreystone?"
She paused, her hand upon the door handle, and turned back to face him with carefully composed features. "Yes, Your Grace?"
"I dine at home this evening. I should be pleased if you would join Livia and myself. We keep country hours here—six o'clock in the small dining room."
The invitation was issued with such casual authority that it took Arabella a moment to realize what he was suggesting. Dining with the family rather than taking her meals in her chambers was yet another gesture designed to preserve her dignity, another acknowledgment that she was not to be treated as a mere servant.
"That is very kind of you," she replied, her voice carefully neutral despite the way her pulse had quickened at the prospect of spending an entire evening in his company. "I shall look forward to it."
Devon's smile was enigmatic. "As shall I, Miss Greystone. As shall I."
***
The blue suite proved to be every bit as elegant as Livia had promised, decorated in shades of powder blue and cream that created an atmosphere of serene sophistication. The sitting room was indeed blessed with an excellent view of the garden, where carefully tended roses climbed trellises and ornamental hedges created intimate alcoves perfect for privatecontemplation.
"It is lovely," Arabella said sincerely as Livia showed her through the chambers with obvious pride. "His Grace has been most generous."
"Devon is always generous," Livia replied with the unconscious loyalty of a beloved younger sister. "Though I confess I was surprised when he announced that he had engaged a companion for me. He has been most protective since our parents died, almost to the point of smothering."
Arabella settled into the chair beside the writing desk, studying the young woman with growing interest. "You lost your parents recently?"
Livia's expression grew shadowed. "Three years past, in a carriage accident. Devon was in India with his regiment at the time, and I was staying with our great-aunt in Yorkshire. When he returned to assume the dukedom, he found me quite changed."
"Changed how?" Arabella asked gently, recognizing the pain that lingered beneath Livia's composed surface.
"I had become fearful of everything—crowds, strangers, even leaving Aunt Millicent's estate. The thought of a London Season, of being presented at court and attending balls and soirees..." Livia shuddered delicately. "It seemed impossible."
Arabella felt her heart go out to this fragile creature who had endured such loss at so tender an age. "And yet you are here now, preparing to face society despite your fears. That speaks toconsiderable courage, Lady Livia."
"Please, you must call me Livia," the younger woman said with sudden earnestness. "And I pray you will allow me to call you Arabella? I have so longed for a friend, someone who might understand me"
"Of course," Arabella replied warmly. "Though I confess I am curious as to what made you finally agree to come to London?"
Livia moved to the window, gazing out at the garden with a wistful expression. "Devon has sacrificed so much for my sake. He loved the army, loved the adventure and independence it provided. But when he inherited, he gave it all up to care for me. He has dedicated three years of his life to coaxing me from my shell, arranging for tutors and companions and physicians who might help me overcome my anxieties."
She turned back to Arabella, her dark eyes bright with unshed tears. "He deserves to have his own life, to pursue his own happiness. But he will never feel free to do so whilst I remain dependent upon him. A successful Season, a good marriage are the things that would grant him the liberty he has earned."
Arabella absorbed this revelation with a mixture of surprise and something else she preferred not to examine too closely. The Devon that Livia described bore little resemblance to the notorious rake of popular imagination. This was a man who had sacrificed his own desires for his sister's welfare, who had spent years patiently nurturing her recovery from tragedy.
"I see," she said carefully. "And have there been obstacles to your recovery?"
Livia's cheeks pinkened. "Several of the companions Devon employed proved to be more interested in him than in their duties. It became rather awkward, particularly when one of them attempted to... well, to compromise him into marriage."
The implication hung heavy in the air between them, and Arabella felt her stomach clench with an emotion she refused to acknowledge as jealousy. Of course, other women had attempted to snare the wealthy, handsome duke. She would be naive indeed to imagine otherwise.
