Page 83 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

Arabella smiled. "Never better."

They all left Vauxhall together. It wasn't until John had safely escorted Arabella to the duchess's door that he finally, reluctantly released her hand.

"Tomorrow," he said.

She nodded. "Tomorrow."

He went home to his empty London rooms and stared at nothing for a very long while. It took him a moment to understand what this new feeling was.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, the world felt like it was in the right order. His wife's death had upended it. And for two years he'd had the sensation that he and Lucy were stumbling along, trying to figure out which way was up, and where, exactly, was their new home.

And now… He'd found it. The path forward, and the way home.

He grinned at the empty fireplace like a fool. Who would have thought that their guiding compass home would come in the form of Lady Arabella?

Two days later, he sat in the duchess's drawing room and listened to Blackwood explain what had become of James Pierce.

Pierce had been given his choice. Cooperate—provide names, records, and testimony connecting Lord Barrington to the Linley Grange fire and the broader financial network—or face charges for fraud, extortion, and conspiracy.

He had chosen to cooperate. John was not surprised. Pierce was, above all things, a survivor. He knew nothing of loyalty, and he'd choose himself first every time.

"It's a start," the duchess said. "Pierce gives us Barrington. But Barrington's network is larger than any of us suspected. The financial operations at Mr. Gage's warehouse are one thread, but that's just the start."

"So it's not over," John said.

"We have won a battle," the duchess said. "However, we have not won the war. Not yet. But Lady Arabella's part in it is finished. She is free to begin her life again."

The words settled in his chest with a warmth he still wasn't quite accustomed to.

She was free to become his wife and a stepmother to Lucy. Her freedom meant a new way forward for all three of them. And he could hardly wait to start their journey. But he still had…

He glanced at the clock. He still had one hour.

Arabella had not joined the others for this meeting with the duchess this morning. Instead, he'd driven her to Marchmont House at her request. She'd wanted time with her mother.

That had been three hours ago. In one more hour, he would return to Marchmont House to call upon her father and formally request Arabella's hand.

He was, in all honesty…mildly terrified.

Not of the marquess, exactly. John was a viscount, heir to an earldom, in possession of an estate and a respectable income and, yes, some rather impressive ledgers. By every measure her father cared about, he was more than suitable.

But even though Arabella had assured him his title and income were all that were required, he would not feel at ease until he'd received permission and every last detail had been arranged.

He'd already written to Lucy, Clarissa, and Kit. The letter had been brief. Mostly the only sentence Lucy needed to hear. I am bringing her home.

He checked his watch. One hour.

He straightened his cravat.

One hour until he'd ask for her hand and make their engagement official.

28

Her mother's room smelled the same. Like lavender and laudanum and the faint mustiness of curtains that were rarely opened. The fire was too high, as always.

And her mother lay against her pillows with her eyes closed and her hands still, as always.

Everything was exactly as Arabella had left it.