Page 50

It was the look of co-conspirators.

"Mrs. Lennox?" Lucy said, her eyes dancing with laughter.

"I did not say that," Arabella said. "You said that."

Lucy grinned. "But you were thinking it."

"I was thinking no such thing." Arabella sniffed, playing the part of the aggrieved, upright young lady to such perfection, John found himself exchanging an amused look with Thea, who was eavesdropping nearby.

"Mrs. Lennox is a perfectly respectable woman who just happens to keep a biscuit ledger," Arabella finished.

Lucy dissolved into giggles. Arabella's mouth curved, and she turned her head slightly—just enough that John could see the laughter she was trying and failing to hide.

She caught his eye and for a moment, John forgot where he was or why he was standing here.

And truly, he was just…standing there. Listening in on his daughter's conversation.

He looked away first, scratching the back of his head and making a show of surveying the land. Though who he was trying to fool, he had no idea. He'd clearly followed them over here like a puppy.

"Lucy, come help me catch a tadpole," Thea called over. "I would like a closer look."

Lucy needed no more encouragement than that. She ran off, leaving John and Arabella alone by the edge of a stream.

John looked over. While Thea did not look his way, he suspected she'd called Lucy away on purpose. To give them a moment alone and⁠—

Oh blast. Had he been caught staring at Arabella? Heat crept up his neck as he tried to imagine what Thea had seen in his expression that she'd given them privacy.

He really needed to stop staring. And stop caring while he was at it. Lady Arabella had been taking up far too much of his thoughts of late.

Arabella picked her way through a patch of flowers to reach him on the makeshift path. Her smile was rueful. "Are you here to scold me, Lord Alderton?"

He blinked, temporarily confused.

But then she was at his side, and he reached out to steady her as she stepped over a cluster of rocks.

"Thank you." She removed her hand from his quickly and finished her thought. "I suppose you heard us laughing over poor Mrs. Lennox and are here to tell me that I am a bad influence."

"I was thinking no such thing," he said.

Which was true. And it was just as true that he likely should have been thinking that. He ought to have chastised them both for making sport of old Mrs. Lennox.

But he'd been too busy trying not to laugh.

He fell into step beside her as she slowly picked her way back toward the picnic blankets. When he stayed silent, she flashed him an unapologetic smile. "I'll try to be better behaved going forward."

"Where's the fun in that?" He surprised himself as much as her with that remark. But it earned him another bright and genuine smile, so he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

She stepped sideways to avoid a root and stumbled. He caught her arm and steadied her.

"Thank you," she said, straightening.

He didn't let go. Not right away. Her arm was warm through the sleeve and for a moment he just—couldn't bring himself to let her go.

She was looking up at him with an expression that was mildly questioning, and he realized that he was standing far too close to her, and that she smelled of something clean and sweet that was considerably more intoxicating than the wildflowers.

"Uneven ground," he said finally. A belated explanation for why he was not letting go.

It was not, perhaps, the most inspired observation he had ever made. But it did give him a reason to keep hold of her as he guided her farther down the path.