Page 53 of Wickedly Yours
Jemma resumed cleaning the pistol. “Peabody is overprotective. I rarely scream and my condition has not affected my shooting ability.”
Arabella swallowed down the sharp retort that instantly came to mind. But she was not here to argue with her sister-in-law. “I shall refrain from causing Peabody any alarm. I should hate to have him wrestle me to the floor in an effort to protect you.”
“Nick isn’t here.” Jemma turned to her. “I’m sure you can show yourself out.” She raised the gun and pointed the weapon in Arabella’s direction, pretending to check the sight.
She wasn’t going to make this easy, but why should she? Perhaps her behavior was part of Arabella’s penance. “It’s just as well, I came to see you. If you would be so kind as to not shoot me with that thing, perhaps you’d like to know why.”
Hazel eyes, so like Rowan’s, looked up from the pistol. Her hand fell protectively over the rise of her stomach. She placed the pistol on the sofa but kept it within easy reach.
“How interesting. Are you here at your brother’s behest?” She shook her head. “Bloody meddling duke that he is. Or perhaps Rowan?” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll tell them both we spoke. There is no need to continue what is bound to be an incredibly awkward conversation which will embarrass us both.”
Arabella took a deep breath. It was rather difficult not to lose her temper with Jemma since everything her sister-in-law did irritated her beyond belief. But in this instance she deserved Jemma’s disdain, considering Arabella’s past actions.
“I am not here at my husband’s request. Nor Nick’s, though you are correct in that he is a meddling elderly matron trapped inside the body of a duke.” Arabella gave a half-smile.
Her smile was not returned.
“I see.” Jemma regarded her with barely concealed dislike.
Getting Jemma to hear her out was much more difficult than Arabella had anticipated. She’d had some bizarre assumption that being with child would cause her sister-in-law to soften towards her.
“Your Grace, I would only ask that you allow me to say what I’ve come to say before you voice your opinion. This will not take long, I promise. Please hear me out.” Arabella paced back and forth across the thick rug of the drawing room, not daring to look her sister-in-law in the eye. Her hand twitched against her skirts though she tried to stop it.
“Whatever have you done to your hair?”
The words took Arabella by surprise. She halted. “Excuse me?” She reached up thinking something had gone awry when she took off her bonnet, but the smooth chignon still sat firmly at the base of her neck. A few loose strands of her hair were artfully left to fall against her shoulders. Her hair wasperfect. “There is nothing wrong with my hair.” Her eyes narrowed on Jemma. “I’m told pregnancy makes a woman do and say strange things.” She couldn’t stop the curl to her lip though she wasn’t upset, just amused.
“Careful, Arabella. I’m the one with the pistol.”
Arabella shut her eyes. When she’d considered apologizing, she’d envisioned Jemma smiling sweetly and accepting Arabella’s request for forgiveness. How naïve of her. The very idea was preposterous. “I came here to make amends, if I can.”
“You can’t.”
“I have wronged you—”
“The understatement of the century,” Jemma snapped.
Arabella clenched her fists. “May I continue?”
“Yes, of course. How rude of me to interrupt. Though to be fair, I said I would listen, not make your act of contrition easy.” Jemma’s chin tilted up. “Do go on.”
Arabella nodded. There was no excuse for her actions but at the time, she’d truly felt she was protecting her brother from a woman who would harm him. Jemma may never forgive her, but she did wish her sister-in-law to understand. Arabella had not acted purely out of malice.
“My entire childhood was spent with Grandfather railing against the man who framed my father, Phillip. Treason is always a terrible crime, but for my family, in particular, even the very mention of disloyalty is in direct opposition to a promise made long ago.” How much had her brother shared with his wife? Did she guess at some of the things Nick had done for Crown and country?
“The Dunbars serve the Crown.” Jemma held her gaze. “Always. You are telling me nothing I don’t already know.”
Arabella nodded in agreement. “Yes. You must understand that I was conditioned to hate this nameless man, whom we now know was your father, with my entire being. Nick as well. Not only for the act of treason, but…” Arabella swallowed as the memory of her parents bloodied bodies flashed before her eyes. She could still see her mother’s hand clutching the wine goblet. “But for what cameafterthe accusations of treason.”
Jemma looked at Arabella with something akin to pity. “He’s told me of what transpired that day. You and Nick saw them. A terrible thing.”
“You’ve no idea.” The coppery smell of her parent’s blood still stung Arabella’s nostrils.
“I don’t suppose I do.” Jemma was looking at her oddly, perhaps she was beginning to understand.
“Nick bore the brunt of Grandfather’s need for vengeance and was reminded daily the responsibility of restoring our family’s honor washis.” Arabella rolled her eyes. “As if treason were the only thing standing between my parents and respectability. I’m sure he’s told you. Phillip and Charlotte were the farthest thing from respectable. Nick and I were shunned, but feared. Respected and despised. I suppose we both became a little overprotective of the other.”
Jemma slowly nodded. “Another understatement.” But there was no judgement in her words.
