Page 69 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

And all the while, someone had been standing in this village, watching Lucy, noting her comings and goings, and filing it all away for the moment when Arabella needed to be reminded of her place.

For a second, Arabella's steps faltered and she thought she might be sick.

All this time, she had been the danger to John and Lucy. She'd brought trouble to their door.

Her presence here… That was the threat.

Arabella knew what she had to do. She had known from the moment she read the note, but she had needed the walk home to accept it.

She would leave. Tonight, if she could manage it. Tomorrow at the latest. She would go back to London and she would find Pierce and she would end this, one way or another.

And she would not tell John.

If she told John, he would follow. He would step in front of her, the way he always did.

And that she could not allow.

John would always try to protect her, but this time it fell upon her to protect him. For Lucy's sake, and for his.

And for her sake too.

She would not be the reason this family suffered any more than they already had.

So no. She would not tell John. She would walk away from this house and these people and the future she had almost let herself believe in, and she would do it because it was the only way to keep them safe.

The house appeared through the trees and Lucy ran up the front steps. Clarissa followed, calling after her about mud on the carpets.

Arabella stood on the drive and looked at John's house. She gave herself one minute to stare up at the gray stone and the climbing roses to memorize the sight.

Then she went inside to pack.

23

John was well aware that something was wrong. That something had been wrong for the last two days. The trouble was…

He had no idea what.

Arabella had come back from the village with Lucy and Clarissa the day before looking like a woman who'd had a pleasant afternoon. She'd smiled and joined them for tea. She'd even played a round of Lucy's invented chess with Thea before supper.

But she had not looked at him once.

It wasn't a shy sort of aversion of her eyes, or even being ignored out of anger or spite. This was…worse. Every glance that should have found him merely slid past, as if he wasn't in the room.

Either he'd suddenly become invisible or something was the matter with Arabella.

But he could not pin her down long enough to ask. He'd tried to catch her after dinner, but she'd excused herself early with claims of a headache. And he'd spent a better part of the day yesterday attempting to track her down, only to find he kept missing her.

The manor was not so very large, nor the grounds so vast that this could be utter coincidence.

The woman he cared for—the lady he very much hoped to make his wife…

She was avoiding him. But why? What had he done?

Then this morning, he'd found Thea in the library packing her books into a trunk.

"Lady Arabella suggested I might be of more use to the duchess in London," Thea said, without looking up. "The house party served its purpose. And there are matters I wish to pursue that require records I can't access from here."

His stomach gave an ominous lurch at the odd phrasing. "Arabella suggested this."