Page 73 of Wickedly Yours
Arabella turned from her contemplation of the rain-soaked gardens to face her sister-in-law, Her Grace, the Duchess of Dunbar. Unfortunately, she was in no mood for sparring although it held a certain appeal. Now that she felt certain Rowan meant to discard her, Arabella wasn’t disposed to being polite to any member of his family.
“HelloJem.” She used her brother’s nickname for his wife knowing how it angered her sister-in-law. “Come to gloat?”
Jemma cocked a brow and looked for a spot in which to seat her ever-increasing form. Her eyes alit on the couch. “Partially.”
“How did you get in without being announced?” Arabella wished to be left alone to contemplate her fate. No word from Rowan in weeks, though she had a vague idea he was in Surrey somewhere. It wasn’t unusual for married couples to lead separate lives, but their estrangement so soon after the wedding and before an heir was produced caused a significant amount of gossip. Lady Marsh must be skipping around making calls on every acquaintance she had in London to cheerfully spread the news.
“I’m a duchess. No one denies me entry.” Jemma patted her stomach in the most annoying way. “I’ve come to speak to you about the celebration of Petra’s birthday.”
“Pregnancy has addled you.” Arabella gave a short laugh. “I’ve no intention of attending anything in honor of Petra. Why would I? Aren’t you afraid Precious Perfect Petra will be scandalized by my presence? Certainly, your aunt will not wish me there.”
“Can you ring for tea? I’m starving.” Jemma gave the small mound another pat. “Hopefully your cook has made something with chocolate.” She gave Arabella a hard look. “Stop your pacing and sitdown. And regardless of the circumstances, you are still Rowan’s wife and to avoid such an event would only make things worse.”
Arabella shot her a look of dislike deliberately ignoring her request.
“There have been several references in the society pages,” Jemma said carefully. “You are taking the papers are you not?”
Arabella looked away. “Yes.” The papers had been full of thinly veiled references that an annulment was in the works over the rather unfortunate marriage of Lady Arabella to Lord Malden. “They say my brother coerced Rowan and he, being terrified of Nick. and being an honorable gentleman, agreed to the marriage under duress.”
Jemma snorted. “That’s rich. Rowan is not nearly as honorable as he appears. Nor is he particularly terrified of Nick.” She put a finger to her lip. “I’ve always found it odd he isn’t. At any rate, I surmised at first Rowan allowed the betrothal to you merely to annoy my aunt and avoid Lady Gwendolyn.” Dislike flashed across her face. “I don’t particularly care for Gwendolyn. Shallow. Insipid. Made several rude comments about my husband.” Jemma gave her a pointed look. “Please ring for tea before I waste away.”
“We finally agree on something,Jem. I don’t care for her either.” Arabella rang for tea wishing Jemma would get to the point of her visit. “Although I think Lady Gwendolyn is exactly who Rowanshouldbe with. She’s rather perfect for him.” Arabella bit her lip. “I assume he will request an annulment and claim I deceived him. Which I did.”
“Had you wed Corbett you would not have been married very long,” her sister-in-law said with certainty. “I would have shot him myself if no one else did.”
“A duchess should have better decorum than to go around brandishing pistols.” Arabella rebuked her. “Rowan deserves better than to be saddled to me. He should be married to a woman not riddled with the dislike of society. One who is flawless and possessed of a pleasing disposition. I am bitter and damaged with few redeeming qualities. You above everyone know that to be true.Jem.”
“My God, Arabella, do you hear yourself? You are wallowing in self-pity.” Jemma tried to resettle her form. “If you don’t gather some backbone then it would be best for you to be sent away. Possibly Australia.”
Arabella’s hands clenched. She had the worst desire to box Jemma’s ears no matter she was with child.
“True, my aunt doesn’t care for you. But you are making a mistake in assuming she is in control of this situation.” She sighed in relief as the tea cart was rolled in. “Oh, Thank God. Finally.”
“You’ll grow to be enormous if you keep eating. Like a giant ball of butter.”
Jemma shot her an ugly look. “If you’ve been paying theleastbit of attention you would know my cousin values imperfection. He seems to like a dour personality. Unpleasantness. The ability to empty a room with only a sneer. In short,you.” Jemma placed several small sandwiches on a plate and proceeded to eat them with relish.
Arabella’s hand twitched into her skirts. Jemma’s words had stirred the briefest flicker of hope. “Why are you saying these things to me?”
Jemma eyed the teacakes. “Where is the dress?”
Arabella felt the blood drain from her face. “Excuse me?”
“The crimson dress. The color chosen especially for you. He loves you in red. Who do you think went with him?Me.”
Arabella’s mouth popped open at the words. “Surely not.”
“I was shocked as well. I reminded him of our mutual dislike. But, as it turns out, it was fortuitous I accompanied him to Madame Moliere’s. He would have forgotten the matching gloves had I not reminded him. Though Rowan needed little prodding to remember the…underthingsthat went with the gown. Oh, Arabella, I’dnoidea.”
Arabella reddened. “There was also a necklace. Did you assist with that purchase as well?”
“No. My cousin knows his baubles.” Another sandwich found its way into her hands. “May I be blunt, Arabella?”
“Dear God, please. I grow exhausted watching you eat the entire contents of the tea tray. I expect you to burst at any moment.” Arabella’s nerves already on edge from Jemma’s visit were stretched taut.
“I’m trying to help you. Though you don’t deserve my kindness. Rest assured I still dislike you. I’m doing this for Rowan, whom I love dearly.”
“Thank you for clearing that up,” Arabella sputtered back. An ache was beginning behind her temples.
