Page 10 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

She thought instead about the moment in the lake and the way he'd looked at her afterward, as if she was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

Tomorrow, he would come to their modest morning room with its slightly faded wallpaper and carefully mended cushions. He would drink tea from their good china and make polite conversation while her mother watched them both like a hawk. It would be proper, formal, and probably excruciating.

But perhaps, if she was very lucky, she might see something in his expression; some hint of the man who'd thrown propriety to the wind and dived into a lake to rescue a ridiculous girl and her even more ridiculous dog.

The thought shouldn't have made her smile; yet, it did.

Chapter 3

Arabella woke to find Thistle had somehow migrated during the night and was now occupying approximately three-quarters of the bed, leaving her clinging to the edge like a shipwreck survivor on a very comfortable raft.

"This," she informed the ceiling, "is a metaphor for my entire life."

Thistle opened one eye, evaluated whether this statement required his attention, decided it didn't, and resumed snoring.

A knock at the door was followed by her maid, Jane, entering with a tea tray and an expression that suggested she'd already heard several versions of yesterday's events.

"Good morning, milady," Jane said, setting down the tray with careful precision. "Your mother requests your presence in her chambers at your earliest convenience. She also asked me to remind you about the blue gown."

"The blue gown," Arabella repeated, sitting up and displacing Thistle, who grumbled but relocated to the warm spot she'd vacated. "Yes, I've been thoroughly briefed on the strategic importance of the blue gown."

Jane's lips twitched. "Shall I prepare it, milady?"

"I suppose you must. Though I fail to see how a gown with lace is going to salvage my reputation."

"Gowns with lace have salvaged more reputations than you might think," Jane said sagely. "There's something about the lace that suggests innocence and good breeding."

"Neither of which I demonstrated yesterday when I flung myself into a lake."

"You were rescuing a dog," Jane said, beginning to lay out the various components of Arabella's armor for the coming battle. "It shows a good heart."

"It shows a complete absence of common sense."

"Well," Jane said philosophically, "that too."

The morning proceeded with military precision. Arabella had a bath again, her hair was arranged in a style that suggested she was a delicate flower who would never dream of aquatic adventures, and she was wrapped into the blue gown with its strategic lace. The overall effect, when she examined herself in the mirror, was of someone trying very hard to appear as though they weren't trying at all.

"Perfect," her mother declared, having come to inspect the troops. "You look exactly like a young lady who might accidentally fall into a lake but would never do so on purpose."

"That's quite specific."

"I've given this considerable thought." Lady Honoria circled her daughter, making minute adjustments to ribbons and lace. "Now, remember; we're grateful for his assistance, sorry for any inconvenience, and utterly vague about everything else."

"Grateful, sorry, vague," Arabella repeated. "It sounds like a rather uninspiring saying."

"It's gotten many a young lady through a difficult social situation." Her mother paused. "Also, I've locked Thistle in the stables."

"Mama!"

"It's for his own good. And ours. The last thing we need is for him to develop an opinion about Lord Blackthorn while the man is here."

"Thistle has opinions about everyone."

"Yes, and he expresses them with alarming enthusiasm. The stable is the safest place for him."

From somewhere outside came the sound of aggrieved barking, suggesting that Thistle had discovered his imprisonment and had several opinions about that as well.

"He'll never forgive me," Arabella said.