Page 43 of Beneath the Beastly Duke's Mask
“Emotional distress,” said Arabella. “Unable to work because he's heartbroken. No work means no money, no money means no rent. Do not underestimate emotions, Truman, especially love. Have you ever read Shakespeare?”
“I cannot say I have,” Truman replied.
“Read Romeo and Juliet,” she suggested. “If there was ever a play with tragic consequences to love, it's that one.”
“It's a tragedy?” asked Truman. “I'm not keen on the sort.”
"It takes knowing tragedy to understand the gift of life, joy, and peace," she replied.
"Well said, Arabella," the duke said, drawing her gaze. "But what if tragedy robbed you of living?"
Arabella paused. He had said living, but she didn't think he meant death. Some people went about their lives never really living it. It was like they were caged in their own minds. Instead of bringing a need to live life to the fullest, a tragedy could bring fear, doubt, and guilt.
"When you say rob, is it self-inflicted, or is the person bound by others?" she asked.
A flash of pain darted across his eyes, making her understand this conversation was about him.
“Self-inflicted,” he finally replied. “Out of necessity, though, so perhaps this person is also bound by others to an extent.”
Arabella chose her next words carefully. Jane had once said he was practically disfigured, but Arabella disagreed. Perhaps it was because she had seen worse before where people had lost noses, lips, and hair, and their skin was just riddled with tight, painful scars that required ointment to moisten just so the person could go about their daily life.
The duke still had a full head of hair and his eyebrows, although a few thin, white scars interrupted the hair growth in some areas. However, they didn't look like burn scars but cuts.
“You appear to be thinking very hard, Arabella,” the duke said, his light green eyes searching hers.
His eyes were slightly stretched from the skin that had melted and healed, giving him a bit of a wax-like look. His nose had also melted on one side, but not so much that he couldn't breathe through the nostril. His lips had come away unaffected, still retaining their fullness and shape. Arabella still found him handsome, very much so. She unexpectedly blushed at her thoughts, prompting the duke to frown.
“I didn't mean to put you on the spot,” he said. “There is no need to answer the question if you feel uncomfortable.”
"That's not it at all, Your Grace," she quickly said. "I merely wanted to choose my words well. I wanted to say this person's life is driven by fear and the vulnerability of being rejected. I'm not saying their fears are unfounded, but if we lived according to our fears, we would miss a lot of what life has to offer. Sometimes, one has to grow a thicker skin, but it's worth it."
The duke's lips tightened slightly as though he disagreed with her words. "Is it not fear that tells us not to jump off a cliff because one might die?" the duke asked.
“I think it's common sense that tells us not to jump off a cliff, not fear,” Arabella replied. “Of course, fear can be involved because no one wants to die, but the fear is one of dying, not jumping off the cliff.”
The duke said nothing for a moment and then surprised her with a smile. “You certainly are wise for one so young, Arabella.”
Arabella released a breath she didn't know she had been holding. It was difficult telling the truth while trying not to hurt a person, but sometimes, there was no way around it.
“My grandfather used to say I had an old soul,” she said. “He was convinced I had likely lived many lives before, but my mother would always scold him and say there was no such thing as previous lives. They often argued over such things. Friendly arguments, of course,” she added.
“What do you think about possibly having a past life?” the duke asked.
“I do not know much about it to have an opinion, Your Grace,” she said honestly.
"My mother said she was a queen in one of her past lives," Truman commented. "I've heard others say similar things like being a general in the Roman army, an Egyptian princess, a fairy—"
“A fairy?” the duke interrupted. “Is that even possible? And why are they all something special? Why not a peasant from the Middle Ages? Or a fisherman? Or a seamstress?”
“That is a good point, Your Grace,” said Arabella, agreeing with him. “Perhaps we simply have yet to find someone who can willingly say they were wrongfully charged with the murder of a lord in their previous life and now have returned for revenge on the family.” Her eyes widened. “That would make a wonderful story, especially if the person falls in love with a direct descendant of the one who had them hanged.”
Both men looked at her with wary expressions. “That sounds like a disaster,” the duke commented. “Would you read a story like that?”
"Certainly," she replied. "It has a bit of macabre, romance, adventure, and it is certainly thrilling. What is there not to enjoy? I wonder if such a book exists. It's certainly not in the books I selected."
And she had selected many books. They filled an entire carriage, so she was forced to travel with the duke and Truman. Arabella had insisted on paying for a carriage ride home, but the duke wouldn't hear of it.
“Tell me when you find such a story,” the duke told her. “I'd like to read it as well. You have piqued my interest.”
