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With the benefit of age and hindsight, Arabella suddenly realized it was likely his ebullience that had made him the leader as a boy, not merely his title and size.
This new understanding was…unsettling; how else had she been wrong? She was silently rewording her proposition when he spoke again, eyes on his task.
“I was surprised to learn you were not already married and making some poor man’s life an utter misery,” he said.
Arabella shrugged. “Well, there are so many men who deserve to have their lives made a misery, it’s difficult to choose just one.”
“Why only one? A woman with your talent and resources, you could have run through five or six husbands by now.”
“A wasted opportunity, I suppose. I would make a very fetching widow.”
“And whomever you marry would be happy to oblige you in that ambition. But that man is not me.”
Guy released the knot and let his arm fall; hers had to drop too. They stood so close that her fingers brushed his leather-clad hip, and his knuckles bumped her through the silk of her gown. He didn’t seem to notice. He was searching the surrounding carnival for inspiration or assistance. He’d find a solution soon. She had to stop wasting time.
“But really, Guy, I’m afraid you didn’t think this matter through,” she said. “If you had, you would recognize that an engagement would benefit us both.”
His expression was incredulous. “I don’t need to think it through. A lifetime of knowing you, Arabella, is enough to be sure.”
“Oh, you great men, you are always sosure. One day you are sure of one thing, and the next day you are equally sure of its opposite.”
“Direct that wit elsewhere. I know my own mind.”
“Nonsense. How can you possibly know your own mind when I have not yet explained it to you?”
A chuckle burst out of him, though not, she thought, because he recognized that as one of her little jokes.
“Ah, Arabella, you’ve not changed one bit.” His gaze rippled over her, flicked away. “Still as arrogant and ambitious as ever. First it’s my father insisting I marry you, then it’s your father, and now you make demands, proving, true to form”—he indicated their bound arms—“that you’ll stop at nothing to get your way. You always said you wanted to marry me.”
She sniffed. “No, I always said I wanted to be a marchioness and that you would merely be an unfortunate appurtenance.”
“I do remember you saying that.” Galling laughter warmed his voice. “I was impressed that a ten-year-old knew a word like ‘appurtenance’. Was that the day I threw you in a snowdrift? You came up spluttering like an outraged cat with snow coming out of your nostrils.”
“Yes, I recall you found that amusing. Right until I threw a snowball smack in your laughing mouth.”
“I remember the summer when we stole your oars and left you stranded on the water.”
The years melted away; they were behaving like children again, tumbling into their familiar pattern of competing to defeat each other. Oh, but he was as maddening as ever! The way everything had always come so easily to him. The way everyone had told her to behave nicely with him, because, “Oh, he’ll be your husband one day!” It had only strengthened her resolve to bring him down.
“Was that the same summer when you boys were playing war games on the lake and I destroyed your boat?” she said coolly.
His eyes narrowed. “You weren’t even playing, and I was about to win.”
“And there we have it: the reason boys hate playing with girls. Because they know the girls will get the better of them.”
“Ha! Do not imagine you’ll ever get the better of me.”
“Says the man dangling off my wrist like a reticule.”
He held her gaze a heartbeat longer, then shook his head with another small laugh. “Why did they imagine it was a good idea for us to marry? All we ever did was quarrel, compete, or ignore each other.”
“Sounds ideal for a modern marriage.”
“That is not what I want from my marriage.”
It wasn’t what she wanted either. She uttered such lines out of habit, for her own amusement, if nobody else’s. She could hardly admit to anyone—especially not to Guy—what she truly wanted from marriage.
She forced her attention back to her mission. This conversation had fallen so far off track, it was in a ditch spinning its wheels. Time to change her strategy.
