Page 68 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

The boy shrugged. "Didn't give a name. Well-dressed. Said the dark-haired lady would know."

He shuffled off.

Arabella's stomach sank as she stared at the folded missive in her hand. Her heart hammered even as she told herself she was overreacting.

But not even the sun could stop the chill that swept over her as she went through the familiar process of unfolding the note.

The handwriting was not Pierce's. It was neater, more precise. The hand of someone who had been instructed to write these words, not someone who had composed them.

But the message was his. She knew it the way she knew his voice, his cologne, the particular angle of his smile when he was about to say something cruel.

My dear Lady A,

The girl is charming. She does love those almond pastries, doesn't she? Every Tuesday and Thursday, like clockwork. I'm told she walks ahead of the others on the way home. The path by the stream is fraught with danger. I would be careful if I were you.

I do hope you have not forgotten our arrangement. I should hate for anyone so small to be caught up in a matter so large.

You know where to find me.

Arabella read it through once. Then again. By the third time, the blood in her veins had been replaced by ice. Her heart felt like it had hardened to stone.

They had been watching Lucy. They knew her route. They knew she walked ahead, and⁠—

And someone had written it down as a threat.

For a little while, all she could hear was the rush of her pulse and the sound of her breathing. And later, when she finally came back to her senses, she was almost startled to find that the sun was still out and the passersby were still walking. Nothing had changed.

But also… Everything had changed.

Arabella stood too quickly and the world spun.

But she folded the letter neatly before going in to find Lucy. She had to find Lucy and keep her safe. That much she knew. What she'd do after that…?

That could wait.

The door of the shop opened before she reached it. Lucy came out holding two pastries, one in each hand, her face bright with triumph. "They had the lemon. The last two."

Arabella looked at her, but for a moment, she forgot what response was expected.

"Lady Arabella? Are you all right?" Lucy's smile faltered. "You look…"

"I'm fine." The words came on instinct, along with a bright smile. "I'm perfectly fine, darling. Just a little warm."

Lucy held out the lemon pastry and Arabella took it.

Clarissa emerged from the shop with her ribbons. "Shall we head back? I promised Kit I'd⁠—"

"Yes," Arabella said. "Let's go."

On the walk home, Lucy skipped ahead as she always did. And the note burned in Arabella's pocket like a coal.

She had been a fool. A selfish, reckless fool. Had she actually let herself imagine a future in this place? Had she truly let herself believe that everything might change?

Her mouth tasted bitter but she forced a smile when Clarissa turned to her. She hadn't heard a word the woman was saying, but a smile seemed to suffice.

All the while, Arabella cursed herself for her naivete.

To think, she'd even imagined that she could change. That she could actually be the sort of person who could belong to a family like theirs. That she could be a good wife and a kind mother and⁠—