Page 21 of Beneath the Beastly Duke's Mask
Perhaps Arabella could ask the duke who the gods and goddesses were. They had no defining features to tell them apart, not even the objects usually associated with them, like a trident for Poseidon or shells for Aphrodite. They were definitely immortals seated in the heavens with the mortals dwelling far below them.
“Likely Greek,” she muttered as she headed to the first shelf.
Her hand trailed along a few book spines, her gaze traveling to the comfortable-looking armchairs that always looked so inviting. One could almost see the indentation of bottoms that had spent many hours in the chair's welcoming embrace.
Thousands of hours spent reading a myriad of books throughout the year—the coziness of winter with a fire blazing, the warmth of summer with a glass of lemonade by one's side, the smell of flowers wafting through the window on a spring's day.... the possibilities were endless. The room itself had a faint vanilla scent from pages of old books, with just a hint of tobacco stuck to the furniture.
The duke's father had apparently enjoyed smoking during the evenings after dinner. Arabella had never seen the duke smoke nor smelled it on him, so it was likely safe to say he didn't smoke. While she was accustomed to the smell of tobacco from her father and grandfather, she rather liked the duke's clean, woody scent with a hint of citrus.
Moving reasonably quickly, Arabella noted every book that bore marks indicating repeated reading. She had noticed them before but wanted to ensure her mental list was complete. Arabella possessed the ability to recall anything she committed to memory.
Whether it be the hundreds of people her father had treated, every recipe her mother had ever taught her, or the books she had read, she could recall them all. The strange thing was that sometimes when shewantedto remember something, she couldn't. Particularly when she was nervous, stressed, or tired. Presently, she was merely excited about helping the duke rekindle his love of reading.
Arabella pulled the odd book out from the shelf that she believed the duke might wish to read. The spines barely had any signs of someone opening and closing it, and the edges looked neater than the usual bent pages of his regular books. She didn't want to take too long selecting books because she would have to begin her afternoon chores soon, so she stopped at five and continued to look through the shelves, eliminating non-fiction.
The duke wanted a good read that would easily transport him into another world—non-fiction could not do that. Historical books and such were certainly interesting to read, but one had to concentrate on absorbing the knowledge. Fiction books possessed the remarkable ability to take a person from their seat, and plunge them into a story with minimal effort. Unless it was a terribly-written book that left the reader unsatisfied and annoyed.
“What are you doing in here?” someone snapped, startling Arabella out of her thoughts.
She looked up from her crouched position, inwardly groaning when she saw Mirabel. She had been avoiding the maid since the confrontation, not wanting to get into another pointless argument.
“I beg your pardon?” Arabella asked, straightening.
“I want to know what you're doing in the library when it's not your turn to clean it,” said Mirabel. “Are you hoping His Grace will come here so you can attempt another seduction?”
Arabella fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Mrs. Cooper knows I'm here,” she replied. “I have explained it to her. Also, I knew no one would be in the library at this time. What are you doing here?”
“Do not attempt to make it seem that I am the one in the wrong,” Mirabel spat. Her anger was surely unjustified. “You're seeking the duke, are you not?”
Arabella frowned. "Why are you so incensed?" She narrowed her eyes. "Is it because you know the duke will come to the library soon, and you wish to be here to seduce him? Is that it? You blame me for somethingyouwish to do.”
Crimson entered the maid's face so quickly that Arabella doubted her eyes. “How dare you!” she hissed, spittle flying.
Oddly, Arabella wasn't angry about the woman yelling at her, but she was irritated. All she had wanted to do was help the duke, only to have an accusation thrown in her face once again by a hypocrite. If there was one thing Arabella didn't like, it was a hypocrite. She stepped back, avoiding the spittle flying in her direction.
"You think you're better than us," Mirabel accused. "You think that because you're educated, you deserve better than the rest of us. Well, you're just a commoner! No amount of education will change that, so you need to stop putting on airs and trying to convince the duke you're better." Mirabel stepped closer, poking a finger into Arabella's chest. "Because you'renot.”
Arabella closed her eyes, her hands clenched by her sides. It was one thing to spew nonsense but another to lay a finger on her.
“Closing your eyes will not make me disappear, wench,” said Mirabel.
Arabella's eyes flew open. “That does it!” she snapped, pushing Mirabel's hand away. The maid spun with the force of it. “I have done nothing to deserve your ridiculous and unfounded ire. What is the matter with you? Do you have rocks for a brain? Is it jealousy? Can you not just stop for once and use the common sense the good Lord gave you?”
Mirabel dropped her jaw, her eyes wide with disbelief. Arabella had the feeling no one had spoken to her like that before. She had likely worsened the situation, but Mirabel needed someone to show her thatshewasn't above anyone else.
The maid seemed to think she could say whatever she pleased without consequence, but Arabella wasn't one to let anyone run their mouths without having her say. She had allowed Mirabel to get away with it at least twice before, but no more.
“Is something wrong?”
They both jumped, startled by the duke's sudden appearance. “Your Grace!” they cried simultaneously, curtsying before him.
She had been so busy arguing with Mirabel that she hadn't noticed him enter. So, he was coming to the library, and Mirabel had somehow known.
“Is something wrong?” he repeated.
Arabella raised her head, finding him looking at her. “No, Your Grace. All is well.”
He frowned. “You appear upset,” he said. He looked at Mirabel and back at her. “I sense tension between you.”
