Page 15 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

The duchess leaned forward. "Do not fret, Lord Alderton. I will not allow Lady Arabella to face her troubles on her own."

He met her gaze and after a moment, nodded. There was a firm conviction in the duchess's expression that reassured him.

"Very well. But if I can be of assistance⁠—"

"You'll be the first to know," the duchess said quickly. "But I'd suggest you focus on your estate and your daughter." She stood to leave and Clarissa hurried to join her. "Leave the rest to me."

6

The clerk at The Adelphi Hotel did not look up when Arabella walked in.

When she gave him Mr. Pierce's name in the steadiest voice she could manage, he glanced at his ledger. "Second floor. Number twelve."

He was using the same room then.

Arabella hesitated for just a moment too long before turning toward the stairs. She'd half hoped the clerk might ask her business, or look at her oddly, or do something that would let her turn around and leave with her dignity in hand.

But of course he didn't. Why would he? Pierce would have made arrangements years ago for callers of every sort. A reputable hotel asked no questions of a respectably dressed young woman in the middle of the afternoon.

She climbed the stairs. Her gloves were damp at the wrists. When had her gloves gotten so damp? She couldn't recall. The chaise ride was a blur. She'd given the driver an address and now here she was, climbing toward a room she'd been to exactly twice in her life.

This was the third time. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. And it was going to be the last.

She smoothed her gloves at the top of the stairs and knocked on number twelve.

"Come in." Pierce's voice was familiar even through the thick wood door.

He was at the writing desk by the window, pen in hand, when she entered. He looked up and smiled at her in that same warm, attentive way he used to smile when she was sixteen and had played her scales without flinching.

He gestured at the chair across from him. "My dear. Have a seat."

She clasped her hands together, painfully aware of how clammy her palms had become. "I'd rather stand."

His smile didn't falter. "As you like."

She closed the door behind her with a quiet click. When she turned to face him, he leaned back in his seat and laced his fingers on the desk.

"I read about your…diverting evening the other night," he said. "Quite the entertainment."

She pinched her lips together. How dare he bring that up? As if he wasn't the reason for it all. Indeed, all her troubles could be traced back to him and that horrid, fateful night two years prior.

Pierce's eyes glimmered with amusement. "Lord Alderton. Imagine."

She sniffed. "I have not come to discuss Lord Alderton, James."

James. She had not used his Christian name in two years, and she saw the flicker of surprise before he caught himself.

But in no time, his smug amusement was back. "What have you come to discuss, my dear?"

My dear. Oh, but she hated those words. They were nothing more than salt in her wounds, and he knew it. It was a small, subtle act of cruelty every time he called her by one of the terms of endearment she used to treasure.

"You said the Marbury matter would be the last." She took a deep breath. "And it will be."

His expression didn't falter. She'd rather been hoping for a look of surprise. Maybe even alarm.

She swallowed hard and continued with what she'd planned to say. "So you'll need to find someone else for the Halliday girl, because I am finished."

He picked up his cup, drank slowly, and set it down again. "You are angry."