Page 67 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Arabella walked into the village with Clarissa and Lucy, and every time, Lucy ordered an almond pastry. It was her favorite treat, and she ate it on the bench outside while providing a running commentary on the passersby.

Arabella was still a little surprised by how much she enjoyed it all. The walks into town, the domesticity of a shopping list, the absurdity of listening to a ten-year-old critique the bonnet choices of strangers.

If someone had told her a month ago that eating pastries on a bench with a child would one day become the highlight of her week, she would have laughed. And then, no doubt, she'd have said something so cutting that the person who suggested such a ludicrous thing ran off in tears.

She winced at the truth of that thought. She'd never claimed to be kind. In fact, she'd spent the better part of the last two years on an odd sort of mission to prove that she was not. Because at some point she'd gotten it into her head that kindness was a weakness and that it was akin to the innocence and naivete that had led her to that cursed inn.

But now…

"That one," Lucy said, pointing at a woman across the street. "The green. With the feathers."

"The feathers are a choice," Arabella agreed.

"A bad choice," Lucy clarified.

Arabella bit back a smile, but held back from agreeing outright. She would not teach Lucy to be cruel or judge others harshly.

She wasn't entirely certain how to be a good influence, but she was determined to try. So instead of agreeing, she said, "Perhaps someone is just jealous because her father won't let her wear feathers."

Lucy grinned up at her. "When I do get feathers, they won't be green."

Good. Arabella tilted her head. "And that will be your choice."

There. Tactful. And not unkind. That was something, was it not?

Lucy turned her attention to a cluster of young ladies at the end of the street, and Arabella basked in her temporary triumph.

She might have regrets over the way she'd acted in the past, but if John could overlook her past and see something good in her, then shouldn't she try to do the same?

The thought of John was enough to make her lips curve up in a grin.

She supposed she had John to thank for teaching her that kindness could be a strength in its own right. And Lucy had taught her that innocence was something to be protected, not scorned.

Thanks to the two of them, she was certain she could do better. Be better. Of course, that was easier said here in the country. Back in London, when she was once more surrounded by her old set…

She shook off the thought. There was time to sort that out. At least a fortnight, to be exact.

Lucy popped the last of the pastry in her mouth and tilted her head back to squint up at Arabella. "May I have another? Please?"

Arabella reached over to brush crumbs from Lucy's skirt. Clarissa was inside one of the shops purchasing ribbon—the woman's appetite for ribbon was genuinely astonishing. There was a very good chance they'd be here for a while.

And Arabella was oddly content to stay and bask in the sunlight with Lucy. "Very well. But only one."

She added this in a stern tone, as if they both weren't well aware that she was already breaking the rules by having two.

Lucy hopped off the bench. "I'm going to see if they have any of the lemon ones. The ones from last week."

"Bring me one," Arabella called.

Lucy beamed at her and disappeared inside.

"Excuse me, my lady?"

She looked up. The shopkeeper's boy was standing in front of her, cap in his hands, looking uncomfortable. "A gentleman left this for you yesterday. Said you'd be in today."

He held out a folded square of paper.

Her hand reached for it before her mind had caught up. "Who was he?" she asked.