“Why would you do such a thing?”
Her grandmother lifted her brow. “Do you take issue with Lady Barrett?”
“Of course not,” Arabella replied. “I take issue with Colin coming for dinner.”
With a dismissive wave of her hand, her grandmother replied, “You will hardly notice his presence.”
“I wish you would have asked me before you extended them an invitation.”
“Would it have made a difference?” her grandmother asked as she reached for her gloves on the dressing table.
Arabella thought highly of Lady Barrett and John; she simply didn’t want to spend the evening with Colin. “I suppose not,” she admitted.
Her grandmother nodded in approval. “We shall have such fun this evening!”
“I wish I shared your enthusiasm.”
“Chin up, dear,” her grandmother encouraged. “You still get along with John, do you not?”
“I do,” Arabella responded. “We would occasionally attend the same social gatherings when we were in London.”
Her grandmother walked up to her. “Have you considered John as a potential suitor?”
Arabella shook her head. “I think of John like a brother.”
“That is a shame,” her grandmother replied. “He is a handsome man.”
“He may be, but I will always remember the time when he got stung on his bottom by a bee and screamed the entire time he ran home.”
Her grandmother laughed. “Poor John! He was only eight.” She gestured towards the door. “Shall we go wait for our guests in the drawing room?”
“I suppose so.”
Arabella’s eyes roamed over the portraits of her ancestors on the walls as they walked through the house. They landed on a picture of her mother, and she stopped in front of it. Her mother was dressed in a white gown with a purple sash around her waist. Her eyes especially drew Arabella’s attention, because they seemed void of any pain, any heartache.
“Your mother was quite beautiful,” her grandmother said wistfully.
“That she was.”
“I remember when she sat for that portrait. It was the month before she was set to be married to your father.”
“Do you think she would be upset at my father’s betrayal?”
“I do not think she would view it as a betrayal.”
“How could she not?” Arabella asked. “He only waited six months before he married again.”
Her grandmother looked over at her. “She would have wanted him to be happy.”
“That may be true, but my father should have grieved her properly.”
“How do you know he didn’t?”
Arabella turned to face her grandmother, and she worked hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “I still contend that he never loved her as she loved him.”
“That is terribly unfair of you to say,” her grandmother said. “You do not know his heart.”
“No, but I have seen his actions,” she countered, “and they speak volumes.”
