Page 62 of The Duke Who Claimed Her

“What?” Her eyes widened, her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. “What is what?”

“That look on your face just now,” he asked her coyly. “What are you thinking about?”

Why do I have the sense that he knows exactly what I am thinking about?

She considered telling him, but the timing was not right. Not outside, and Timothy was close by. However, Caspian looked at her, sensing what she wanted to say, and her cheeks kept flushing bright pink because she was just so eager to tell him…

Thankfully, the moment was interrupted when Arabella spied a footman hurrying from indoors, down the garden path, and straight toward them both.

“Your Grace!” the footman announced when he reached them. “A letter has arrived for you, just now.”

“Who is it from?” Caspian asked.

“Oh…” The footman blinked nervously. “I am sorry, Your Grace, but the letter is for Her Grace.” He held the letter out for Arabella.

Even without having to take it, she knew who it was from.

It was always going to come to this…

With a shaking hand, Arabella took the letter and saw immediately the seal that belonged to her father. No doubt, he was writing to her as a reminder that she do as he demanded. Did he suspect that she might waver? Or was he simply taking precautions?

“Your father?” Caspian asked, his voice suddenly dark.

“Yes…” She swallowed the lump that appeared in her throat.

She held the letter out as if it might suddenly catch alight. Hand still shaking, a cloud seemed to pass across the sun, darkening the day. For a moment, the happiness she felt, the safety and the comfort, faded and were gone, and she was back to being that same scared little girl.

“Arabella!” Timothy cried out suddenly. “Look at me! Look!”

It was Timothy’s joyous cry that snapped Arabella from her funk. She started and looked over, a smile spreading up her lips when she saw him waving at her. And then she laughed when he did a handstand, one that lasted a second before he crashed into the grass.

From there, Arabella pulled back even further.

She took note of Timothy, then of Caspian beside her. She looked over the garden, the townhouse… Her new life. What was she so afraid of? Why did she care at all what her father might do or say? He did not own her, and if he tried anything, Caspian would be there to see her through it.

That was what this marriage was. It was not about who controlled whom. It was not about personal freedoms. It was knowing that Caspian was there for her when she needed him, as she was there for him.

The lump in her throat vanished. The pit in her stomach was gone. And when she looked at the letter again, her hand was no longer shaking.

“Shall we read it together?” Caspian asked firmly.

“No,” she said and then laughed. “In fact, I do not think I will waste our time. “Here…” She held the letter back out for the footman to take. “Throw this away, will you? I do not wish to read it.”

“Your Grace.” The footman took the letter.

Caspian looked at her with a frown.

“What?” she asked when she saw him.

“Nothing…” He took her hand again and squeezed it. “Nothing at all.”

With that done, she turned with Caspian and went back to watching Timothy play. He tried another handstand and fell again. Then he tried a third time, able to hold it for a few seconds longer. Caspian laughed at his efforts; she laughed as well, and Arabella felt perfectly at peace.

This was her life now. Her father did not control her, and never before had she been so happy.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The following morning began in a way that was becoming predictable. Arabella found Timothy once he was dressed and ready for the day. They walked to the breakfast room together, and no sooner were they seated than did Caspian join them.