Page 49 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

"I'm not hiding."

"Aren't you?"

He crossed to her in two strides, pulling her against him. "I wasn't hiding last night."

"No," she agreed, her pulse accelerating. "You weren't."

"This thing between us.....It's separate from her. From society. From all of it."

"Is it? Can it be? We're the Earl and Countess of Blackthorn. Like it or not, we have a position to maintain."

"I've never cared about position."

"Because you've never had to. You were born to it. But I'm new to this, and if I'm going to be your wife, really be your wife, then I need to face down the Cassandras of the world."

He studied her for a long moment. "You want to go to the ball."

"I want to show her and everyone else that I'm not some mistake you made in a moment of misguided chivalry. I'm your choice."

"Are you?" His voice had gone low, intimate. "My choice?"

"I'm here, aren't I? In your house, in your life, in your..." She paused, color flooding her cheeks.

"In my bed?" he finished, a smile playing at his lips.

"That too."

He kissed her then, deep and possessive, as if claiming her all over again. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard.

"Fine," he said. "We'll go to the ball. But if Cassandra causes trouble..."

"We'll handle it together."

"Together," he repeated, as if testing the word. "I'm not used to together."

"Neither am I. But I'm willing to learn if you are."

Before he could respond, a tremendous crash came from the hallway, followed by Thistle's enthusiastic barking and Morrison's strangled cry of dismay.

"Together might be tested sooner than expected," Lucien observed.

They found Thistle in the hallway, tail wagging proudly, having apparently knocked over a suit of armor that had stood there since the Tudor period. Morrison looked as though he might faint.

"That armor," he said weakly, "has survived four centuries."

"And it will survive this too," Arabella said, already kneeling to gather pieces. "It's just temporarily redistributed."

"Like the dog's understanding of personal property," Lucien added, but he was helping too, and she caught him slipping Thistle a treat when he thought no one was looking.

Chapter 10

The rest of the day passed in a blur of ordinary domestic life made extraordinary by the new awareness between them. Every glance lingered, every accidental touch sparked. When their hands met over the teapot at afternoon tea, Arabella felt the contact all the way to her toes.

"You're not very subtle," she told him after Mrs. Fielding left the room.

"I wasn't trying to be."

"The servants will gossip."