Page 26 of Beneath the Beastly Duke's Mask
“I apologize, Your Grace,” she said. “It seems I'm not yet ready to stand about or walk for too long.”
"You should have just listened to me and returned to bed," he gently scolded. "I am the one who brought you here because I believed you'd be more comfortable. The attic is small, and you share it with Jane. Also, Mr. Thornton doesn't like climbing stairs, and it's a long way to the attic."
The last bit made more sense. “Did you say Mr. Thornton?” she asked.
“I did. He said he knows you.”
Arabella smiled. “He was one of three physicians in Thetford. He and my father often shared information to help each other.”
“I see,” he said. “He seemed surprised to see you working here. He would be even more upset if he found you walking around. Stay in bed and read.”
“I'll ask Jane to bring me a book from the attic,” she said.
“Or you can read this,” he said, pulling a small, thick book from his pocket. “This should keep you busy for a little while.” He put it on the bedside table. “I'd like you to be well when you purchase my books from the bookshop. I would still like you to go, but only when you are recovered." He narrowed his eyes. "Which reminds me. What on earth were you thinking by carrying those books downstairs? You could have been even more hurt!"
His voice broke at the end, and he abruptly turned away. He was really upset. The realization left her both puzzled and glad. Perhaps his good heart made him more concerned about his servants, but she found she rather liked him being that worried about her. She shouldn't, but she did. A servant was supposed to serve her master, not cause him to worry.
"I'm sorry, Your Grace," she said. "I'm not usually so clumsy as to fall downstairs. I will not do it again. Or rather, I'll certainly try not to," she added.
He turned to her as though he wanted to say something, his green eyes piercing her. However, instead of saying what was on his mind, he excused himself and left the room. Frowning, she stared at the doorway for a while. The duke could have stayed a little longer and kept her company since he was in the room already.
“Oh, do not be ridiculous, Arabella,” she scolded herself.
Expecting her employer to keep her company was foolish. He had already done enough by putting her in the guestroom, and not scolding her for dropping his books. The duke had been more concerned about her than the books—that was good enough. It had to be.
Arabella didn't know why she wanted more from him, or rather, she did know, but didn't want to acknowledge what she had suspected for a little while now. Quite simply, she liked the duke and couldn't seem to help it. Sighing, Arabella shook her head and sat up. She had come to Euston to learn more about the duke, not develop feelings for him.
Reaching for the book, she opened it and promptly closed it as another memory about her fall came to mind. She hadn't tripped—something had hooked her foot. Oddly, Mirabel had been at the top of the stairs before Arabella lost consciousness.
“Could it be...?” she said to herself, cocking her head.
Something had hooked her foot—that was the bottom line. Arabella's heart slowly sank. Perhaps Mirabel was so threatened by her that removing her from the house was her only option. The maid had to despise her with a burning hatred from the very depths of hell. Arabella could have died! If Mirabel wanted that, then Arabella was in danger in the house. She could go straight to Mrs. Cooper, but it would be her word against Mirabel's.
“Arabella!” Jane cried, startling her out of her thoughts. “How are you? I just heard from the duke that you're awake. You've been asleep for six hours! How do you feel? Can you move?”
Arabella smiled. “Considering I'm sitting up, I would say I can move,” she said. “I feel fine, Jane. Well, as fine as one can be when they're covered in bruises. It could have been worse, though.”
“What happened, though?” Jane asked, sitting by Arabella's feet.
She started gently massaging Arabella's feet as though it were the most natural thing to do. Arabella had to admit it felt wonderful.
“I felt something hook my feet before I fell down,” she said. She contemplated telling her friend about Mirabel and decided she needed someone on her side. “The odd thing is, I saw Mirabel at the top of the stairs before I fainted. She was just standing there. One would think she would be surprised to see me fall, but she was oddly emotionless.”
The more Arabella thought about it, the more she recalled. That was the thing about her mind. She tended to store more than she thought in her mind, almost like it knew she would one day need all the little details.
Jane gasped. “Are you telling me Mirabel pushed you down the stairs?”
She sounded as horrified as Arabella had felt when she first suspected Mirabel. “I think so,” she replied. “But I'm not confident yet. She was rather angry when we were in the library, but I didn't think she would be capable of hurting me. What if she wanted me dead?”
Jane's eyes widened. “A murderess under the duke's roof? He would never stand for it. We have to tell someone.”
“But I have no proof,” Arabella pointed out. “Mirabel could spin a tale and make it seem as though I'm trying to get her out of the house.”
“Mirabel is good at making up stories,” Jane agreed. “We need more evidence, but how? You could be in danger.”
“I know,” said Arabella, nodding. “I'll have to keep my wits about me.”
“I'll help you,” said Jane. “I'll never leave you alone unless I know Mirabel isn't anywhere near you. In the meantime, we should try and trap her.”
