Page 10 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

Arabella swallowed her frustration. What would her mother say if she knew what she'd done?

She knew she'd done wrong. But even now, thinking back on it—she wasn't sure what other choice she could have made.

"It was his reputation or mine, Mama," she said. "And really, a gentleman's reputation can withstand so much more. You know that."

Her mother's silence felt more oppressive than usual.

Arabella swallowed hard. "This gossip will die down and soon no one will remember at all."

The hand in hers did not move.

"Men get away with the most extraordinary things. Lord Alderton will recover. He is heir to an earldom, after all. And he has a country seat to retreat to. By Christmas no one will remember."

She tightened her grip on her mother's hand.

"I thought it would be over by now, Mama. But it's not. And I don't know what to do."

The clock on the mantel ticked and Arabella could feel her pulse ratcheting up to match it as her original problem came back to her.

She was still trapped. And now with no end in sight.

"You would tell me I did the right thing. Wouldn't you?"

Her mother breathed.

Arabella waited. Yes. I thought so.

She rose and straightened the blanket. She kissed her mother's forehead, and crossed to the door. The maid was waiting in the corridor.

"My lady, your father wishes to see you in his study."

Arabella's chest tightened the way it always did when her father had asked for her. "At once?"

"Yes, my lady."

Arabella forced her face to go expressionless. "Of course."

The marquess did not look up when she entered. She stood inside the doorway as he continued his correspondence.

She knew better than to interrupt. He would acknowledge her at his convenience. He had the same arrangement with her mother, it seemed, for he had not deigned to visit her sickroom for nearly eight years, so far as Arabella knew.

After nearly a full minute, her father said, "Edgmond."

She blinked. "I beg your pardon, Father?"

"Edgmond is a perfectly suitable match. Pengrove is also acceptable. Carstairs I shall not approve, on the grounds that his family appears to be suffering from financial worries that put them in a precarious position." He looked up at last. "Either of the first two will do, as I believe I've already made clear."

She pressed her lips together. Indeed. He'd informed her of his approval nearly a fortnight before after a call from Edgmond and his mother.

No one had invited her to that tete-a-tete, but she had understood the purpose, as she had every other hopeful suitor who'd sought out her father's approval.

Her father eyed her now from head to toe. Arabella tried her best not to stiffen under the inspection.

Truth be told, her father rarely looked at her. She suspected it was because she bore a striking resemblance to her mother. At least, how her mother used to look when she was healthy and young. All of her mother's former friends told her so.

But when her father did look at her, it was in the way of a man inspecting a piece of business—a parcel of land, perhaps. Or a rare coin he was considering selling, depending on its value.

"The Season is closing," he said. "I want a name, Arabella. By the end of the week."