Page 57 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

"Cassandra loves Cassandra. Everyone else is just... accessories."

"Then why were you betrothed?"

"Because I was young and foolish and thought beauty was enough."

"And now?"

"Now I know better. Beauty fades. But courage, kindness, the ability to make me laugh—those things last."

"Are you calling me courageous and kind?"

"And funny. Don't forget funny."

"I'm not funny."

"Oh, yes, you are. Yesterday you tried to teach Thistle to fetch your slippers."

"That was training!"

"That was comedy. He brought you one of my boots, three potatoes, and what I'm fairly certain was Mrs. Fielding's wig."

"She said it was a hairpiece."

"It was definitely a wig."

They were laughing when another crash echoed through the house, followed by the now-familiar sound of chaos.

"Your turn," they said simultaneously.

"We could leave him to it," Lucien suggested.

"We could..."

Another crash, this one accompanied by what sounded like Cookie's operatic distress.

"We should go," Arabella sighed.

"We should."

They found Thistle in the pantry, having somehow opened every flour container in his quest for whatever he'd been seeking. He sat in the middle of the white explosion, tail wagging, looking extraordinarily pleased with himself.

"This," Lucien said surveying the disaster, "is our life now."

"Regrets?"

He looked at her, disheveled from his lap, laughing at the chaos, already moving to help clean up, and smiled.

"Not even one."

Chapter 11

The modiste arrived from London two days later, bringing with her an army of assistants and enough fabric samples to outfit half the ton. Madame Phillipe was French, formidable, and took one look at Arabella before declaring that she had been "criminally under-dressed" for far too long.

"This figure!" she exclaimed, circling Arabella like a general surveying a battlefield. "This colouring! And you have been hiding in country fabrics? C'est un crime!"

"I haven't been hiding..." Arabella began.

"Silence! I must think. The ball is in four days, non? We must create something magnifique. Something to make all the other ladies weep with envy."