Page 26 of Snowed-in with Scandal
Arabella stood frozen in the doorway, Nicholas’s words echoing in her mind like the tolling of a funeral bell.
“I want to see her face when she realizes she’s finally been outmaneuvered by someone cleverer than herself.”
The pain was so acute it took her breath away. She had dared to hope—even after his coldness at tea, even after his cruel dismissal—that somewhere beneath his hurt and anger, the man who had held her so tenderly in the bedchamber at the pavilion still existed. That perhaps, just perhaps, he had come to save her.
But no. He had come to watch her destruction. To glory in her final humiliation.
“Ah, Arabella,” Algernon said with silky pleasure. “Perfect timing. Mr. Morley was just expressing his desire to witness your... capitulation. It seems he has rather strong feelings about seeing justice finally served.”
She forced herself to look at Nicholas, though every instinct screamed at her to flee. He sat in his chair, composed, his dark eyes fixed on her with an expression that chilled her to the bone. Where once there had been warmth, passion, even anger—now there was only cold calculation.
“Indeed, I do,” he said quietly, and the words hit her like physical blows.
“Come now, my dear,” Algernon continued, clearly relishing every moment. “Don’t look so stricken. You brought this upon yourself, after all. Did you truly think there would be no consequences for your choices?”
Outside, snow had begun to fall again—fat, heavy flakes that danced past the windows like ghostly witnesses to her shame. The storm that had first brought her to Nicholas at Quamby House was returning, as if nature itself was mocking her with cruel symmetry.
“The documents are prepared,” Algernon said, gesturing toward the mahogany desk where papers lay spread like instruments of torture. “All that remains is your signature, and this unpleasant business will be concluded.”
“And if I refuse?” she whispered, though she already knew the answer.
“Then your brother hangs, and you hang beside him.” Algernon’s voice was matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the weather. “The choice, as always, is yours.”
Nicholas leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving her face. “I confess myself curious to see which path you’ll choose, Lady Lushington. Will you sacrifice yourself for your brother’s sake? Or will you again put your own interests first, as you did five years ago?”
The cruelty in his tone made her flinch. How could he speak to her thus? How could the man who had whispered words of love against her skin now take such obvious pleasure in her torment?
“Tell her what you really feel, Morley,” Algernon encouraged with obvious delight. “Don’t spare her feelings now.”
Nicholas rose from his chair and moved closer, his tall frame looming over her. “What I feel?” He looked down at her withsomething that might have been contempt. “I feel... vindicated. For five years I’ve wondered what sort of woman could smile in a man’s face while planning to betray him. Now I know. The sort who would sell her own soul if the price were high enough.”
Arabella bit her lip to keep from crying out. Each word was like a dagger to her heart, made worse by the kernel of truth within them. She had betrayed him, hadn’t she? Not from greed, but the result was the same. She had destroyed the man she loved to save the brother she adored.
“Look at you,” Nicholas continued, his voice dropping to a whisper that somehow cut deeper than shouting. “Reduced to this. All your calculations, all your careful planning, and this is where it’s brought you. Was it worth it, Arabella? Was Lord Lushington’s fortune worth what you threw away?”
“Please,” she whispered, the word torn from her throat. “Please don’t?—”
“Don’t what? Tell you the truth? Face you with the consequences of your actions?” He moved even closer, close enough that she could smell his familiar scent of sandalwood and something uniquely him. The proximity was torture—so near to everything she had lost, everything she could never reclaim.
“Sign the papers,” Algernon commanded, his patience clearly wearing thin. “End this charade.”
With trembling legs, Arabella moved toward the desk. The documents swam before her eyes, the legal language blurring together into meaningless shapes. All she could think of was Nicholas standing behind her, watching her sign away what little independence she had left.
“The pen,” Algernon said, holding out the instrument like an executioner offering a blade.
Her hand shook so violently she could barely grasp it. This was the end, then. The final act in the tragedy that had begunfive years ago with her desperate attempt to save James. She had traded her happiness for her brother’s life, and now she was trading her freedom for his safety. Perhaps this was her destiny—to sacrifice herself piece by piece until nothing remained.
“Sign them!” Nicholas’s voice was sharp with what sounded like impatience, and the command hit her like a whip.
She pressed the pen to the paper, her vision blurred with unshed tears. James would be safe. That had to be enough. It had to be?—
The pen moved across the page, forming her name in shaking letters. Arabella Elizabeth… Lushington. There—it was done. She had signed away her independence, her future. She was now entirely at Algernon’s mercy, dependent on his charity for the rest of her life.
The pen dropped from her fingers, clattering onto the desk like a death knell.
“Excellent,” Algernon purred, reaching for the documents. “Most satisfactory indeed. You see, Morley? I told you she would?—”
But Nicholas moved with lightning speed, snatching the papers from Algernon’s hands before striding towards the fireplace.
