Page 6 of Harpy of the Ton
Poor horse.
And poor woman.
At least Lawrence’s ordeal with Dunton would be over once the garden was complete. He only need endure the man for a fortnight. Whereas Lady Arabella would be bound to him for a lifetime.
Chapter Three
As Arabella enteredthe breakfast room, the footmen stood to attention—two flanking the door, another beside the buffet, and a fourth attending Aunt Kathleen.
Of her fiancé, there was no sign.
She approached the table, and a footman rushed to pull out her chair.
“Where’s the duke?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Lady Arabella,” he replied.
“Youshouldknow. He wasn’t at dinner last night, either.”
“Arabella, that’s enough,” her aunt said.
“I’m his fiancée. I have every right to know where he is.”
Aunt Kathleen inclined her head toward the footmen. “Pas devant les domestiques.”
“Surelytheymust know where their master is,” Arabella said.
“Child, must you be so petulant?” her aunt cried. “It’s not your place to demand where the duke is—not as his fiancée, and certainly not as his wife.”
“I won’t be his wife, Aunt—I’ll be hisduchess.”
“Must you be so troublesome? Do you want your fiancé to witness such unladylike behavior? He’s already going to considerable trouble to accommodate your whims, with that garden of yours.”
“Withmymoney,” Arabella said. “I—Ouch!” She broke off as her aunt gripped her wrist.
“Child, it’snotyour place to ask how the duke spends his money.”
But it’s not his yet.
“Charles, fetch Lady Arabella some breakfast,” Aunt Kathleen said, releasing her grip. “A little scrambled egg, but only one slice of bacon.” She turned her pale-blue gaze on Arabella. “We don’t want you ruining your figure before your marriage, do we?”
“And afterward?”
“You must maintain your appearance to keep your husband interested, until you’ve given him an heir. Then it matters not.”
Because, at that point, she’d have served her purpose.
“If you behave,” Aunt Kathleen continued, “I might be disposed to permit a second slice of bacon every other day. When we next see the modiste for your fitting, I’ll decide then whether it would be appropriate.”
She cocked her head to one side, expectation in her gaze.
Arabella rubbed her wrist. “Yes, Aunt, thank you.”
“Well?” Aunt Kathleen barked at the footman. “Get on with it!”
The footman scuttled over to the buffet, where he deposited a spoonful of eggs and a slice of bacon on a plate before placing it in front of Arabella.
Arabella wrinkled her nose at the odor rising from the food.
