Page 10 of The Duke Who Claimed Her

“I am not so sure.”

Despite trembling and the obvious fear in her eyes, Miss Witherington stood her ground in a way that Caspian could not believe. Face set. Jaw clenched. She scowled at him, daring him to follow through on his threat.

Caspian scowled back. Angry, yes. Tired and frustrated, of course. But there was something else there… something he could not quite explain. Not used to being spoken to this way, and certainly not expecting it from one so beautiful. His pulse quickened, but not with anger.

And when his eyes flicked downwards, across her chest, toward her body, his pulse quickened further. On instinct, unable to control himself, Caspian reached for her. He could not say what he meant to do, only that he felt a sudden desire to touch her… to feel her on his fingers.

“Caspian!” the cry came from beyond the closed door, cutting through the moment, and just in time. “Where is he?”

“Who is that?” Miss Witherington asked.

Caspian snatched back his hand just in time.

He had hoped to have this sorted before his cousin arrived, but now that she was there, he wondered what he was going to say. As he wondered what she was going to say to him.

“That…” He groaned and let his shoulders drop. “That is my dear cousin.”

Chapter Four

The small antechamber’s door swung open suddenly, and a woman burst in—though Arabella did not recognize her, she knew instantly who it was.

She was older than the Duke, closer to fifty by Arabella’s guess. Tall like him, with proud, sharp features that gave her a no-nonsense look. Dark hair that was graying. A slight hunch that did not diminish her presence. And dark blue eyes—fiercely intelligent and commanding—which immediately told Arabella that this woman was not one to be spoken down to or bullied.

Indeed, even the Duke stepped back as she entered. When Arabella’s father hurried in behind her, Arabella noticed he kept his distance, continuously glancing at the woman with worry, as if she had already put him in his place, and he wanted to avoid it happening again.

I rather like this woman…

“There you are!” The Dowager turned on the Duke and put her hands on her hips. “What is going on here?”

“Cousin, it is lovely of you to join us,” the Duke said plainly.

“Do not cousin me,” she snapped. “There I was, enjoying the party which I had spent weeks organizing, only for this one…” She pointed at Arabella’s father, who winced. “To appear as if from nowhere, informing me that my dear cousin had become engaged.”

“Ah, so you received my message.”

“Impossible, I said,” she continued, hands still on her hips. “I saw my cousin less than an hour ago, at which time we had a rather enlightening conversation.” She widened her eyes at him. “As I came to understand it, the idea of marriage was such a horrific concept to you that I might do better squeezing blood from a stone rather than convincing you of its worth.”

“But you did convince me,” the Duke said with what had to be humor, even if it did not sound as if he was joking.

Her expression was stone. “So, it is true?”

“It is.”

“And how did this happen, exactly? How did you go from harboring a complete rejection of the concept to becoming betrothed? I feel as if I am losing my mind, Caspian!”

“I can answer that.” Arabella’s father stepped forward. “My poor daughter was left at the altar in a state of disgrace, and His Grace, seeing a lady in need was kind enough to⁠—”

“I was not speaking to you,” the Dowager snapped at Arabella’s father.

Arabella’s father cowered back at once.

Arabella watched the interaction with a thrill that burned hot. Having grown up under her father’s strict control, having no powerful women in her life, it was oddly satisfying to see him so thoroughly beaten by little more than a sharp tone.

How can I become like her?

Even the Duke, as assured and confident a man as Arabella had ever met, was nowhere near as dominating in the face of his cousin’s tirade. If anything, he looked properly chastised, almost embarrassed to find himself in such a situation.

“It was not something that I planned, Penelope,” he said with a deep sigh, his expression softening, even pleading. “You know well how I do not wish to wed… just as you know why I must.”