Page 40 of A Night of Passion with the Duke

“No. I’ve had enough of you nitpicking on everything I do.” Edward glared at him. “You want me to say that I’ve made mistake. I don’t know what you stand to gain from it, but I don’t see my wife that way. You’re my brother, and if the ton have nothing positive to say, you should have my back and tell them exactly where they should shove their opinions.”

“I do have your back. Don’t accuse me of not caring about my family.”

“You do care, but your actions are misplaced.” Edward rose from his seat, already tired. He was sick and tired of letting his brother and people who had nothing better to do with their time pick on every decision he’d made. “You do nothing but harp on me, when you should be working with me. Yes, her family may be ranked beneath us, but I have nothing but respect for the Earl of Thorne.”

“You can’t marry just because you respect her family.”

“Yes. But a man capable of building up his family’s fortune in such little time shows an ambition that could be beneficial.”

“He had help from Ridlington.”

Edward shook his head. His younger brother was hell-bent on seeing only the disadvantages of the marriage, just as he had chosen to do with everything else Edward had done. Edward was fed up with trying to prove himself worthy.

“He made something of himself from nothing, and not just sitting around, twiddling his thumbs and thinking of the next best bit of gossip to spread. That’s more than I can say for half the ton. Perhaps they should take a page from his book.”

Charles frowned, just like he did at the end of every argument they’d had—and they’d had many. It hadn’t been so during their childhood, but since their time at Oxford, Charles had taken it upon himself to judge every decision Edward made and declare him unworthy.

He’d developed an unhealthy fear of the ruination of the family name and had since been a thorn in Edward’s side.

“I do hope she is worth it,” Charles spat out, his balled fists shaking.

Edward didn’t answer but stormed out of his study. He didn’t want to admit he didn’t know the answer to that question.

He thought back to their easy conversation the day she’d met his family and how for that brief moment in time, it had felt like they were really married. Like they could actually come to love each other if they tried.

He slowed down and breathed deeply, his eyes finally taking in the familiar corridor. He was walking the familiar route to the secret gardens, a place he usually sought solace in after arguing with Charles.

A part of him wanted to seek out Arabella and to just bask in her easy warmth. She’d been so much braver than him and had always gone after what she wanted, but he…

He remembered she’d skipped breakfast today and decided to go see if she had recovered. He quickened his steps, remembering there was a secret passage around there leading down to the kitchens. He’d stop by and get her something light to snack on or perhaps dessert. He had noted that she had a sweet tooth—she’d admitted as much to his mother.

As if summoning her by his thoughts, he heard her familiar laugh ahead of him. He shook the thought that she’d somehow been able to find her way to the gardens alone, but as he neared, he heard her voice clearly.

He rounded the corner and stepped back in shock at the sight in front of him.

Arabella was standing with her head close to a footman’s, speaking about something that had her laughing.

As she put a hand on the footman’s arm, red danced in Edward’s eyes so much that he didn’t think before he emerged from his hiding place.

They whipped around, startled to see him, but then Arabella gave him a bright smile that almost made him stumble.

Edward shook his head and walked on, undeterred. She wouldn’t use her smile to get out of the compromising situation he had found her in.

Was this a habit of hers? Luring men into trysts and then playing innocent when caught?

“Yo—Edward.”

“Duchess.”

His eyes darted from her to the footman, anger filling him the longer he looked. The footman was dashingly handsome, even if he hated to admit it.

“What brings you down here at this time?” Arabella asked, still smiling at him.

She wasn’t showing an ounce of shame at the impropriety of her behavior, and it was grating on his nerves. The footman, on the other hand, had the decency to tremble where he stood.

“Providence,” Edward answered.

“Oh.”

---