Page 42 of Beneath the Beastly Duke's Mask
Arabella's cheeks bloomed with color. "Books are fascinating, Your Grace," she explained. "Someone took the time to weave a captivating tale for the reader. I find the human mind equally fascinating, if not more. If I had the opportunity, I would sit down with all the authors of my favorite stories and ask them how they came up with the story. I wish I was as creative as them."
“I believe you're capable of writing a story,” the duke said. “Have you ever tried?”
“Honestly? No,” she said. “I prefer reading them.”
The duke laughed. “I second that,” he said. “Reading is much easier.”
The carriage jerked unexpectedly, throwing her off balance. She put her palms out to balance herself, only to find her hands on his outstretched legs. Arabella quickly moved them, catching a glimpse of pain on the duke's face before he pulled his legs away. Worry bombarded her excitement as she tried to understand what she had done wrong. Perhaps he had tender scars on his legs or worse.
"I beg your pardon, Your Grace," she said apologetically, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't expect to suddenly fall forward. My father would always say I'm stronger than I look and should be more careful."
The duke widened his eyes in surprise, confusing her. If not for possibly hurting his legs, she didn't know what else she could have done wrong.
“You didn't hurt me, Arabella,” he told her. “Please, do not apologize. I was merely surprised.”
Yet she had seen the look of hurt in his eyes. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said, lowering her head.
He was either hiding his pain or... Her heart sank. The duke likely believed she was disgusted because she touched him—it was the only thing she could think of. Silence filled the carriage. It was like all the joy and excitement had been sucked out of the day.
The silence stretched for several more minutes, suddenly making the journey home rather awkward. Arabella caught Truman's eye, gesturing for him to do something. Usually, she would be the one to break silences with something amusing and make everyone laugh. However, Arabella was a maid in the duke's household and not among her own people—it wouldn't do to be so outspoken.
Besides, the valet needed practice gauging the duke's moods and understanding situations that made his master uncomfortable before they happened. Her mother had always said the best servants were the ones who could prevent situations before they happened because they knew their masters and mistresses well, even better than themselves.
Arabella's mother used to have a lady's maid who was brilliant like that, but when she was disowned, she had to leave without her.
Truman cleared his throat, pulling Arabella from her thoughts. "Your Grace, perhaps you could speak to Clinton about the sudden increase in rent for your tenants," said Truman. It wasn't the best thing he could have said, but it was a start.
"I know he was given the power to make significant decisions in your absence," Truman continued, "but he didn't give a reason and barely provided notice of the increase." He looked down at his hands as though suddenly self-conscious. "I heard some of the servants talking about it."
“Sounds like a crook to me,” Arabella muttered, looking out the window.
She had met Daniel Clinton on several occasions when he came to the house to speak to the duke. He appeared to be a good fellow at first, but he had a calculating look in his eyes that left Arabella strangely unsettled. It was like the man was hungry formore, but she wasn't precisely sure whatmoreentailed for the steward.
“What was that, Arabella?” the duke asked.
He had heard her! She snapped her head to him, surprised when she found him smiling. The duke appeared amused rather than annoyed by her comment.
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she still said, knowing she had been out of line.
“You called Clinton a crook, didn't you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” she denied. “I said he sounds like a crook. Suddenly increasing someone's rent without cause is suspicious.”
The duke looked at his valet. “Do you also think it's suspicious?”
“I would question his reasons,” said Truman, avoiding giving his opinion.
The duke turned to Arabella. “Tell me why you think Clinton's behavior is suspicious,” he said. “I did give him the authority to make necessary decisions.”
“Can I indeed give my honest opinion?” she asked.
The duke nodded. “You may. I will not judge you for it. I merely wish to hear your thoughts on the matter.”
"Well," she said, tucking a wayward curl into her maid's cap. "To me, Mr. Clinton sounds unhappy with the amount of income and wishes to make more with no concern for the people having to pay that increase. Did he stop to think if they could? Are they making enough to pay the increase? If you're not experiencing a loss, there is no reason to increase something, especially when many people will be negatively impacted."
“Yes, but one cannot base all decisions on others,” said the duke. “If that were the case, people could find all sorts of excuses not to pay their rent. I broke my leg, my child was sick, my wife left me for my brother—” He broke off when Truman snorted, glancing at him with raised eyebrows. “Something amusing, Truman?”
“No, Your Grace,” said Truman, quickly sobering. “I just wondered if someone would really use such an excuse and why.”
