Page 51 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

She turned her gaze to the meadow ahead of them. From here they could see Lucy splashing in the stream as Thea gave instructions on how to catch the tadpole. And farther down Kit and Clarissa were dancing together to music that did not exist. Clarissa's laugh rang out as Kit spun her in a twirl.

"What a group," Arabella murmured.

He glanced at her. "Are you horrified?"

She laughed. "Should I be?"

He took in the smile that still lingered, softening her features. "Lady Arabella, you may not have noticed, but my sister is barefoot. My brother-in-law is behaving like a circus performer. My daughter is shrieking… And I do believe Miss Evermore plans to perform a dissection of a tadpole to further her biological understanding."

Arabella pursed her lips, and he suspected it was to stifle a laugh as she followed his gaze. "Yes. I had noticed."

"And you are not alarmed to find yourself in our company?" he asked.

He was truly curious. Yes, he'd phrased it to be teasing, but he found he truly wished to know what she thought of this. His family. His life.

She watched the others and her smile was small and sweet. "They are rather like a garden of flowers, your people."

He arched his brows. "Flowers."

"Mm." She considered the scene ahead. "Your sister is sweet briar. Impossible to contain." A pause. "Lord Stratton is a peony. Showy, universally beloved, and utterly convinced he is the main attraction."

John huffed a laugh. "And Thea?"

"Miss Evermore is the specimen no one can quite classify. She grows where she pleases and heaven help the botanist who tries to put a label on her."

John rocked back on his heels, utterly enchanted by the curve of her lips as she thought it through. "What about Lucy?"

Arabella's expression softened. "Lucy is the wildflower. Obviously."

He was smiling properly now, in a way he suspected was doing nothing for his dignity. "And what am I?"

She turned to face him. He would like to say he did not hold his breath in anticipation. But he would be lying.

She did not answer immediately. Her gaze moved over his face, her expression thoughtful. "You are the garden wall."

He blinked. "The…wall."

"Everything here grows because of you." She gestured at the chaos ahead. "They climb on you and lean on you and take you entirely for granted. And you hold them up regardless."

The words landed in his chest with a thud.

She had said it simply. Not as a compliment, not as flattery. Merely as an observation. He looked at her. She looked back, and for a moment her expression was open in a way it rarely was. She looked a little uncertain, as though she had said more than she'd meant to and was waiting to see whether it had been too much.

"Then what are you?" he asked.

The openness vanished. The smile came back. It was sharper, though. It was the one she wore when she was about to say something clever to a group of smitten young lords.

"Oh, I am the exotic orchid someone has foolishly left outside the conservatory." She was already moving toward the others as she spoke. "Impressive to look at, perhaps, but not remotely built for this climate."

John stood there and watched her go. She is wrong about that.

She was not a hothouse flower accidentally left in the open. She was something tougher than that. Something that had been growing in poor soil for a long time and had survived anyway.

He felt a swell of emotion that was both uncomfortable and inconvenient.

But then she glanced back over her shoulder with a wicked smile that left him winded. "Don't worry, Lord Alderton. I shall try not to wilt before dinner."

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