Page 38 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

"I had been worried about him for some time, you know," Clarissa continued.

So. Apparently not.

"Since Eleanor," Clarissa added.

The name landed oddly in the space between them. Or perhaps that was all in her mind.

Arabella kept her expression neutral. "Were they very happy?"

"They were." Clarissa's face softened into something private and fond. "Eleanor was the gentlest soul I've ever known. She had this way of making everyone around her feel calm. Lucy adored her, of course. And John— He was utterly devoted to her. He always is, to the people he loves. It's rather his defining quality."

Arabella's grip on the teacup had tightened. She loosened it carefully.

"He's always been like that," Clarissa continued. "So full of purpose and duty. It's in his nature to protect others and care for them."

Arabella nodded, and her corset suddenly felt too tight. Yes, that was an apt description of the man she'd come to know this past fortnight.

"I think," Clarissa went on, "that once this business with the duchess is all sorted, he ought to focus on himself for a change. On Lucy. On finding someone who can—" She sighed wistfully. "Someone calm and gentle who can give him some peace. Someone loving and sweet who'll take care of him, for once, and be a good and kind mother to Lucy. He deserves that, don't you think? After everything?"

"Yes," Arabella said. "He does."

Her voice sounded perfectly normal. She was almost sure of it.

Clarissa patted her arm, rose, and drifted toward Estella and Thea, who seemed to be bickering about something near the pianoforte.

Arabella sat very still on the settee.

Gentle. Calm. The words rattled off in her mind like a shopping list. Good and kind. Loving and sweet.

She was none of these things. Not one of those traits could be applied to Arabella.

She had known this about herself for a very long time, but the knowing had never before felt quite so…so painful.

There'd been many factors about her life that Arabella had wished to change over the years. But this was the first time she'd ever wished she could change herself.

She took a deep breath and sank back into the settee, grateful that no one else had taken Clarissa's place to try to speak with her.

She needed a moment alone to register what Clarissa had said. And most importantly, why she had this awful feeling that kind, lovely Clarissa had just slapped her across the face.

Of course, she'd done no such thing. Clarissa had not been cruel. She'd merely been telling her exactly what kind of woman would make her brother happy.

And it was not the kind of woman who had spent her Season spreading rumors, ruining reputations, and being choked in hotel rooms.

Arabella took a sip of her wine.

The men returned a little while later, and John found her immediately. His gaze swept the drawing room until it landed on her.

"Are you all right? You look unwell," he said quietly.

She rose to stand with him. "I am perfectly well."

"You are a dreadful liar, Lady Arabella." His lips curved up at the corners. "It is one of my favorite things about you."

She nearly smiled at that. Nearly. But the ache behind her ribs had spread into something wider and less manageable, and the smile would not quite come.

"I think I need some air," she said.

"Then I shall take you home."