Page 46 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

"Why not what?" Arabella shot back.

"Why don't you dance?"

"I do not dance particularly well," she said. This was true enough, but not something she would readily admit in other circumstances.

She blamed the slip on the fact that it was a child asking.

Lucy considered this with a gravity that seemed disproportionate to the subject. "Aunt Clarissa says everyone dances well if the music is good enough."

Arabella arched a brow. "Your Aunt Clarissa is an optimist."

Lucy nodded as if this were a medical diagnosis she had long suspected. "Are you a friend of my father's?"

She hesitated only briefly. "I am."

"Are you friends with Clarissa?"

"I—" She hesitated a little longer this time. "We are becoming better acquainted."

Lucy nodded. "Where is your family?"

"In London."

"Do you like the country?"

"I have not yet formed a view."

"Do you like music?"

"When it is played competently."

"Uncle Kit plays very well."

"He does."

"Do you like cake? Mrs. Lennox made seed cake but it is very dry. I would not recommend it."

"Thank you for the warning. But I do not like cake."

Lucy looked aghast. "Who does not like cake?"

"Me," Arabella said.

Lucy frowned. "What do you like?"

Arabella opened her mouth and heard herself say, "Silence."

Lucy stared at her.

Arabella stared back, mildly horrified. One did not, she supposed, tell a ten-year-old to stop talking. Which was essentially what she had just done.

She knew it to be rude. And suspected it was not the sort of answer that endeared one to children.

But Lucy's face split into a grin so wide it showed a gap between her front teeth that was rather adorable. Then she let out a laugh that was so loud and so delighted, Arabella glanced around to make sure no one was staring.

But Kit's playing covered the excessive laughter, and Arabella found herself laughing too. "Sorry," she started. "That was⁠—"

"Don't be." Lucy was still grinning. "I don't like silence at all, which is probably why I get on so well with Aunt Clarissa." She glanced across the room at Kit, who was now playing something slow and sweet while Clarissa swayed beside the pianoforte. "Mrs. Lennox prefers silence too. She does not tolerate idle chatter."