Page 47 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

From her tone, it was clear the girl was repeating words she'd heard often. Arabella followed Lucy's gaze to the older woman in the corner, whose embroidery needle was moving swiftly and with military precision. Her mouth was set in a thin line that suggested the music was an imposition and the laughter a personal affront.

Arabella let out a long exhale. "I cannot say I enjoy the comparison."

Lucy's eyes widened in surprise.

"I would imagine," Arabella said, "that there is not much that woman does tolerate."

Lucy's eyes widened even further. "Have you met Mrs. Lennox?"

Arabella fought a smile. "I do not need to. My childhood was full of women just like her."

"Was it?" Lucy's face lit up with joy. "Was yours awful too?"

Arabella tipped her head to the side as she considered. In truth, she'd had far too many stodgy governesses and strict nannies to keep them all straight. She hadn't warmed to a single one.

But in hindsight, she could safely say that they were the only reason she was educated and able to conduct herself well in society. "They were…thorough."

"Mrs. Lennox is very thorough." Lucy wrinkled her nose. "She counts how many biscuits I've had. She writes it down in a ledger."

"A biscuit ledger?" Arabella didn't have to feign surprise.

"A biscuit ledger." Lucy said it with the withering scorn only a ten-year-old could properly deliver. "Papa says she means well."

Arabella's laugh was really more of a snort. "I believe it."

She could very well picture John saying that, and she could well imagine Lucy's response.

Lucy beamed at her. It was, Arabella registered with some alarm, the first time a child had ever beamed at her. She was not entirely sure what to do with it, so she did the only thing she knew how to do—she carried on talking as though Lucy were an adult, because she had no other mode available.

"How many biscuits have you had?" she asked.

"Today?" Lucy pursed her lips. "Three. But one was very small, so I'm not sure it counts."

"It does not count," Arabella said. "Everyone knows biscuits below a certain size are merely crumbs."

Lucy stared at her for a long moment. Then she said, with great seriousness, "I am going to tell Mrs. Lennox you said that."

Arabella tipped her chin. "Please do."

Lucy shifted closer. She was, Arabella realized, settling in. "Did your mother die too?" she asked.

The question landed without warning. Arabella's breath caught.

Lucy didn't seem to notice. "Is that why you had a Mrs. Lennox of your own?"

Arabella cleared her throat. "My mother is— She is alive. But she has been very ill for a very long time. So…"

Might as well be dead.

Goodness. Arabella swallowed the words before they could escape. What a horrid thing to say. And to a child, no less.

Lucy's expression softened. "That's sad."

"Yes," Arabella said. "It is."

And then, because it felt like the appropriate thing to do, if there actually was an appropriate way to discuss death and dying with a ten-year-old stranger in a lively living room, she added, "It is very sad that your mother passed away."

Lucy looked at her then, not so much startled as…pleased. Or perhaps relieved. Arabella couldn't say. But the little girl didn't give a response other than a solemn nod.