Page 37 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

Of service. She smiled. "Thank you, Lord Alderton. Truly."

He inclined his head. "I shall collect you later for my sister's dinner?"

Her smile now felt far more genuine. "Of course. I would never miss our final performance."

His huff of amusement warmed her more than she cared to admit. "We'll leave them speechless, shall we?"

She swallowed hard and was mildly alarmed to realize that what she'd swallowed was…a giggle.

Yes, that was indeed alarming.

The drawing room was very quiet after he'd gone. The duchess returned to her correspondence, and Arabella sat with her cold tea.

But she did not have long to wait before she dressed for Kit and Clarissa's dinner that evening, the last event at which she and Lord Alderton would appear together.

He appeared right on time in the duchess's hall in his evening coat. He looked up at her as she came down in her gown, and her chest gave a little lurch.

Oh, she thought. Oh no.

She descended the rest of the stairs with her chin up and her smile firmly in place and told herself, very firmly, that it was nothing.

The dinner was intimate with only eighteen guests. Kit was charming, the food was good, and Clarissa had arranged the seating so that her brother and his supposed beloved were near one another but not too near.

Arabella was seated beside a very dull baronet on one side and Kit on the other, with John across the table and two seats down.

Close enough to catch his eye. Far enough that catching it felt deliberate.

She caught it four times during the first course.

The fifth time, he was mid-sentence with the woman beside him and happened to glance across the table at precisely the moment Arabella was looking. Their eyes met. His mouth did that thing that was not quite a smile. More a flicker of recognition, as if he'd been waiting for her to look and was pleased she had.

Or perhaps she was imagining things.

Yes, she was definitely making things up.

Still. She looked away first. And when she did, her cheeks were warm.

Which was silly. They were performing, for heaven's sake. The whole evening was a performance.

After supper, the ladies withdrew to the drawing room while the men stayed behind for port. Arabella found herself on the settee beside Clarissa. She started to rattle off the typical compliments one would say to a hostess, but her long-practiced speech was cut short when she mentioned the baronet who'd sat beside her.

"Sir Harold," Clarissa interrupted. "Yes. He breeds spaniels. It is his only topic." Clarissa wrinkled her nose. "I'm sorry about that. I wasn't sure where to put him, but you— Well. You handled it beautifully. John looked as though he was enjoying himself too."

Arabella sipped her tea and said nothing. It was very clear that when speaking with Clarissa, one did not necessarily have to say anything. And sure enough…

"May I say something?" Clarissa drew her feet up under her skirt and settled into the corner of the settee like they were young girls settling in for a chat.

Arabella found herself smiling for real at the other woman's question. "That is generally what one does at a dinner party."

Clarissa smiled. "I wanted to say that I am grateful to you. For what you have done for John these past weeks."

Arabella felt her stomach tighten. "It was nothing. It was⁠—"

"It was not nothing." Clarissa's voice was gentle but sure. "He might not have shown it, but I know it pained him to be thought of as… Well. I know you did not mean to tarnish his reputation. Either time, of course. But he is the sort who would… Well, you know. You saw yourself. He might be the last true chivalrous hero. Aside from Kit, of course."

Here, Clarissa paused to breathe. And beam at her.

Arabella blinked back. Was she supposed to respond to that cascade of words?