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His tone grew overly somber. "I would not dream of disturbing you."

"How gallant." She returned to her book. But the curve of her lips remained, and he found himself watching it instead of the fire he was supposedly contemplating, and…

And this was precisely the sort of thing he had been trying to stop doing.

He cleared his throat. "What are you reading?"

She held up the cover without comment.

"Is it any good?"

"I am not quite certain." She set it down. "I have not absorbed a single word since you sat down beside me."

The confession caught him off guard. "Ah," he said.

Because he truly did not know what else to say to that admission.

She dipped her head, but he did not miss the way her cheeks colored faintly. It was…

Sweet. Adorable, actually. In all the time they'd known one another, he'd never seen her blush.

He should leave. He should absolutely, without question, excuse himself and go to bed.

Instead he said, "Tell me something."

She raised an eyebrow. "That is rather broad."

What was he doing? He did not know. But he couldn't seem to stop. He wanted to know her. Better. Better than anyone else knew her. Because truth be told, the more he'd come to know her, the more he liked her. And he suspected he'd only just begun to scratch the surface. "Tell me something I don't know about you."

She let out a little huff of laughter. "You know very little about me, Lord Alderton. That hardly narrows the field."

He smiled. "Then pick something easy."

She considered this. "I am afraid of horses."

He blinked. "But you ride."

"I ride despite being afraid of horses." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "My mother's mare threw her when I was eight. It was before she was ill. She broke her collarbone. I still remember the sound of it, though I suppose that is impossible at that distance. But I remember being certain she was dead."

She said this lightly, as if it were a mildly interesting fact about someone else.

"She was not dead. Obviously," Arabella continued. "She was furious. She got up and told the horse exactly what she thought of him, using language that scandalized the groom and delighted me. But I have been nervous around horses ever since." A pause. "Absurd, really. Ten years of riding and I still hold my breath when I mount."

"That is not absurd."

She gave him a look that made him want to laugh. "It is ridiculous."

"It is not." He leaned forward. "I am afraid of bees."

She stared at him. "Bees."

"I was stung eleven times as a boy. On the face. I resembled a pudding for a week. Lucy finds this story hilarious." He paused. "Eleanor found it hilarious too, actually. She used to threaten me with honey when I was being difficult."

The name slipped out before he'd thought about it. He waited for the familiar tightness in his chest, the small wince of having said too much.

It didn't come.

Arabella was watching him with an expression he couldn't quite place. Not pity. Something quieter. Something that looked, if he was not mistaken, like recognition.