“That is precisely what I am talking about,” Arabella responded as she situated herself on the bench. “Who are you to decide something is trivial?”
“A neighbor stealing laundry off the line is trivial,” Colin said as he sat next to her.
“Not to the person who is out an article of clothing.”
“That is why I employ a steward,” he remarked. “He handles all the petty offenses.”
Arabella shook her head. “I do not presume to know how to run an estate—”
He cut her off. “Yet you are going to advise me on how to do so,” he teased. “Am I right?”
“You are,” she said with a bob of her head. “I just think it is in your best interest to become invested in your tenant’s lives.”
“That would be a waste of my time.”
“All right,” she responded. “Forget I said anything.”
Colin eyed her curiously. “What game are you playing, woman?”
She laughed. “I can assure you that I am not playing any game,” she said. “I just know when to stop pestering you.”
“Since when?”
“I don’t want to ruin this lovely outing by arguing.”
“That is the first logical thing you have said in a long time,” Colin said, mirth in his eyes. “Are you feeling well?”
“I assure you that I am.”
Colin smiled. “I must admit it is quite fun to win an argument against you.”
“You didn’t win,” she pointed out. “I merely made the conscious decision not to argue back.”
“Thus, I won,” he remarked smugly.
“You are quite vexing,” she said good-naturedly.
“So I have been told.”
Arabella’s lips twitched as she glanced over at Colin. She missed the friendship that once had existed between them. Frankly, she missed him, dearly.
Chapter Thirteen
Colin glanced over at Arabella as they rode in the carriage. He didn’t think it was possible, but she had managed to grow more beautiful over the years. He noticed her cheeks were pink from the cold air and he asked, “Are you warm enough?”
“I am,” she replied.
“Good. I would hate for you to catch cold.”
“That is thoughtful of you.”
A silence descended over them as Arabella’s gaze left his and roamed the countryside. Before it grew awkward, he asked, “How do you know Peter?”
Arabella visibly tensed. “I met him in the village.”
“Is he an orphan?”
“No, he has a mother,” she replied. “She works in the milliner’s shop.”
