Page 7 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

She did not, in any sense, decide to do this. Her body did it without consulting her and suddenly she was sagging against him, her head buried in the crook of his neck and her shoulders slumped against his chest.

But he didn't protest and his shoulder was nicely warm and solid. And so, for the briefest moment, she allowed it.

His arm came up. He didn't pull her closer, but merely rested it across her back, and the heavy weight of it was almost absurdly comforting. It made her heart feel like it was once more moored within her chest.

She closed her eyes. His wool coat smelled faintly of cedar and for the space of three breaths she just stayed there enjoying the fact that she was not dead and the world was no longer spinning.

His other arm came around her and she was quite blissful in this warm, solid cocoon.

Well, for a little while, at least.

After a few moments—a few minutes? After some time had passed, the world hadn't just settled. It had locked into place. And when it did, she remembered who he was. Who she was. And where this all was taking place.

Reality landed like a smack to the face.

Her eyes flew open.

The wool coat under her cheek was Lord Alderton's wool coat. The shoulder under her cheek was Lord Alderton's shoulder. The arms locked around her belonged to the man who had given her that irritatingly tolerant look in the ballroom.

She pulled back to find herself staring up at Lord Alderton.

They were alone, she noted.

In a garden.

And he was holding her in his arms.

3

It had been a rather surprising evening all around, John thought.

Of course, the most unexpected part of it all was finding Lady Arabella Wycliffe falling apart in the garden when he'd merely stepped out for some fresh air.

It had been all the more surprising when she'd not only not pushed him away, but had accepted his help.

And the part where she'd fallen into his arms and seemed content to stay there all evening?

Yes. That, too, was a surprise.

So perhaps it should have come as no surprise at all when he found himself inches away from the most startlingly green eyes he'd ever seen. And then, a heartbeat later⁠—

A woman's shocked gasp came from beside them.

"Lady Arabella?" a female voice said.

Arabella stiffened in his arms. Then her eyes grew so wide it looked painful.

With effort, John tore his gaze away from her and registered several things in short order.

First, there was now a small cluster of women in pale evening gowns standing just beside the hedge which had been, up until very recently, shielding him and Lady Arabella from view.

Second, he was aware of their expressions. Shock and horror in various degrees. One woman had her hand pressed to her mouth, while another—a fair-haired girl in a particularly bold shade of blue—was looking at him with an expression he could only describe as alert.

Then he looked back at the green-eyed beauty in his arms and realized that she had somehow become an entirely different woman in a frighteningly short amount of time.

Gone was the genuine panic he'd first seen there, or even the wide-eyed shock at her friends' approach. No, her eyes had gone hard and bright. Her chin had come up. And a small composed smile that he'd only ever seen at a distance was already in place.

In the half second between the gasp and what came next, he only had time to think—oh no.