Mr. Whitmore stood in his grand study, his fingers gripping the crystal glass of whiskey so tightly that it threatened to c***k. The dim light from the chandelier overhead did little to soften the hard lines of his face, his fury barely contained beneath his composed exterior. Arabella’s defiance was an insult he hadn’t expected, and the fact that she had acted so swiftly, without his approval, made it even worse.
His wife, Evelyn Whitmore, sat on the pristine white couch, elegantly swirling the wine in her glass. Unlike her husband, she wasn’t visibly angry, but the amusement glinting in her sharp eyes made it clear she found the situation entertaining.
“This is quite the scandal,” she mused, crossing one leg over the other. “Arabella always had a rebellious streak, but this…? Marrying
