Page 19 of A Virgin for His Grace
The sincere gratitude in the younger woman's voice made Arabella's chest tighten with unexpected emotion. How long had it been since someone had looked to her with such complete trust and faith? Her own family, whilst loving, had always viewed her as the practical, sensible daughter, reliable but unremarkable. Here, however, she was valued not merely for her respectability but for her genuine ability to nurture and guide.
"You give me far too much credit," she protested gently. "Any success you achieve will be entirely your own doing."
"Nonsense," Livia said firmly. "Devon was quite right to engage you as my companion. I have learned more about confidence and deportment in two days than I did in months with previous instructors."
At the mention of Devon's name, Arabella felt her carefully maintained composure waver slightly. She busied herself with arranging her skirts, hoping to conceal the flush that she could feel spreading across her cheeks.
"His Grace is most perceptive in his judgments," she managed.
"Indeed he is," Livia agreed, though something in her tone suggested she was watching her companion with closer attention than usual. "Though I confess myself curious about his behaviour this morning. He seemed rather... tense. Not quite himself."
Arabella's hands stilled in their nervous fidgeting, her heart beginning to pound with sudden anxiety. Surely Livia could not suspect what had transpired between her brother and his employee? The very thought of such a revelation made her feel quite ill.
"I noticed nothing unusual," she said carefully. "His Grace strikes me as a man who takes his responsibilities very seriously."
"Oh, he does," Livia said with a slight smile. "Though his methods of managing those responsibilities sometimes prove rather unconventional."
Before Arabella could ask what she meant by this cryptic comment, they were interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Henderson, who appeared in the doorway of the music room with her usual composed efficiency.
"Begging your pardon, Lady Livia, Miss Greystone, but His Grace requests Miss Greystone's presence in his study at her earliest convenience."
Arabella felt the blood drain from her face, her mouth goingdry with sudden apprehension. What could Devon possibly wish to discuss that required such formality? Surely he did not intend to reference their midnight encounter in the cold light of day?
"Of course," she managed, rising from her chair on legs that felt distinctly unsteady. "Thank you, Mrs. Henderson."
"Shall I accompany you?" Livia offered, though her expression suggested she was already anticipating a negative response.
"That will not be necessary," Arabella replied, grateful that her voice sounded more controlled than she felt. "I am certain His Grace merely wishes to discuss some aspect of your education or social calendar."
Yet even as she spoke the words, Arabella knew that Devon's summons had nothing to do with his sister's welfare and everything to do with the unfinished business that lay between them like a loaded pistol.
*
The walk to Devon's study felt endless, each step echoing through the elegant corridors like a death knell. Arabella's mind raced with possibilities, each more distressing than the last. Would he dismiss her from his service? Reference her shameless behavior with cold disapproval? Worse yet, would he attempt to continue where they had left off, trading her employment for more intimate favors?
When she finally reached the heavy oak door of his private sanctum, she paused to compose herself, drawing upon everylesson in deportment she had ever received. Whatever Devon intended to say, she would face it with dignity and grace, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he had affected her.
Her knock was answered immediately, as though he had been waiting for her arrival.
"Enter."
Devon stood behind his massive desk, his back to the door as he stared out the window at the garden beyond. He had changed from his morning attire into riding dress, the close-fitting breeches and bottle-green coat emphasizing his powerful physique in a way that made Arabella's pulse quicken despite her determination to remain unmoved.
"You wished to see me, Your Grace?" she said formally, remaining near the door rather than venturing deeper into the room.
"Indeed." Devon turned to face her, his expression carefully neutral though she noticed the slight tension around his eyes that suggested he was not as composed as he appeared. "Please, be seated. We have matters to discuss that require complete frankness."
Arabella moved to one of the chairs positioned before his desk, settling herself with careful attention to propriety whilst Devon remained standing, the position granting him a psychological advantage that he clearly intended to exploit.
"I believe," he began without preamble, "that wemust establish certain boundaries regarding our professional relationship."
"Boundaries, Your Grace?" Arabella managed, though her voice sounded strained even to her own ears.
"Precisely." Devon began to pace behind his desk, his movements betraying the restless energy that his formal tone could not quite conceal. "Last night's incident must not be repeated. It was a momentary lapse in judgment that serves neither of our interests."
The casual dismissal of what had been, for her, an earth-shattering experience made Arabella's chest tighten with humiliation and anger. "I see. And I suppose you believe the fault was entirely mine?"
Devon's pacing stopped abruptly, his dark eyes fixing upon her with sudden intensity. "The fault, Miss Greystone, lies with both of us. You for wandering the halls in a state of undress that would tempt any man, and I for responding to that temptation like the rake society believes me to be."
