Chapter 14 #2
"There's more. 'Wear this when you call on society. Show them that love transforms everything, even beasts into princes.'"
"I was never a beast," Lucien protested.
"You were definitely beastly," Julian corrected. "Remember when you growled at the vicar?"
"He was trying to convince me to remarry. Six months after the fire."
"Still beastly."
"That was protective growling."
"Is there a difference?"
"Yes. Protective growling has noble intent."
"All growling is just growling," Arabella said, holding up the dress. "Oh, this is beautiful."
"Wear it to call on Lady Potts," Julian suggested. "Strike while the iron is hot."
"Today?"
"Why not? You've already conquered the worst. Cassandra's fled, society's curious rather than condemning, and you have a new dress. Seize the moment."
"What do you think?" Arabella asked Lucien.
He was quiet for a moment, clearly wrestling with his instincts. "I think," he said finally, "that my wife deserves to be seen in society as more than just the woman who tamed the beast."
"But I like being the woman who tamed the beast."
"You're the woman who dived into a lake for a dog. The taming was incidental."
"The taming was essential," she corrected, moving to perch on the arm of his chair. "Without it, I'd just be wet."
"You're frequently wet around water."
"And you're frequently irritable around people."
"I'm not irritable. I'm selectively social."
"That's what irritable people say."
"Would those people let their wives drag them to morning calls?"
"Are you letting me drag you to morning calls?"
"Apparently."
"You're going to make morning calls?" Julian asked with delight. "The Beast of Blackthorn is going to sit in drawing rooms and discuss the weather?"
"I draw the line at discussing the weather."
"What will you discuss then?"
"Estate management. Crop rotation. The fascinating world of drainage systems."
"You'll be the most popular guest in the county," Arabella said dryly.
"I don't want to be popular. I want to support my wife."
The simple statement, delivered without fanfare, made Arabella's chest tight with emotion.
"That's... that's very sweet."
"It's practical. If you're going to insist on being social, I might as well be there to glare at anyone who's inappropriate."
"Your glaring is legendary," Julian agreed. "Remember when you made that French Earl cry?"
"He was trying to cheat at cards."
"You didn't say anything. You just looked at him."
"It was a very speaking look."
"It was a terrifying look."
"Good. Terror is useful."
"You're not terrifying anyone during morning calls," Arabella said firmly.
"Not even a little?"
"No."
"Can I at least look imposing?"
"You can look however you naturally look."
"So, imposing then."
She laughed and kissed his cheek, causing Morrison to suddenly find the ceiling fascinating and Mrs. Fielding to develop an urgent need to check on the kitchen.
"We're embarrassing the staff," Lucien murmured.
"We're being happy. They'll adjust."
"Will they?"
"They adjusted to Thistle."
"That's different. Thistle has charm."
"Are you saying you don't have charm?"
"I'm saying my charm is more... selective."
"Your charm is perfectly adequate."
"Adequate. How flattering."
"Would you prefer excessive?"
"I'd prefer accurate."
"Accurately adequate, then."
"You're impossible."
"I'm your impossible."
"That's true," he agreed, pulling her from the chair arm into his lap, completely ignoring Julian's delighted laughter and Morrison's strategic exit.
"Really?" Julian said. "At the breakfast table?"
"It's our breakfast table," Lucien replied, not taking his eyes off Arabella.
"It's about to be my awkward table if you keep being this sweet."
"Then leave."
"But I haven't finished my eggs."
"Take them with you."
"You're evicting me from breakfast?"
"I'm encouraging you to breakfast elsewhere."
"This is what I get for helping you prepare for the ball. Eviction and egg theft."
"You're not being evicted. You're being... relocated."
"To where?"
"Anywhere that isn't here."
Julian stood with dramatic affront. "Fine. I'll go visit Morrison. He appreciates me."
"Morrison tolerates you."
"Tolerance is a form of appreciation."
After Julian left, Arabella said, "That was rude."
"That was necessary. He would have stayed all day making commentary."
"I like his commentary."
"You wouldn't like his commentary on what I was thinking about doing to you in this chair."
"Lucien!"
"What? It's our chair. In our breakfast room. In our house."
"The servants..."
"Are delighted we're happy. Mrs. Fielding told me yesterday that the house hasn't felt this alive in years."
"She did?"
"Right after she mentioned that Thistle had reorganized her linen closet."
"Oh no."
"Oh yes. Apparently, he's developed a system."
"A system?"
"Things he likes on the floor, things he doesn't like hidden behind other things, and things he's saving for later tucked under the good tablecloths."
"We'll replace everything."
"We'll replace the entire household at this rate."
"But with much better stories."
"That's true. No one else can claim their belongings were systematically reorganized by a criminal mastermind."
"He's not a mastermind. He's just... creative."
"He's a threat."
"Our threat."
"Everything is ours with you."
"That's generally how marriage works."
"Is it? I thought marriage was about maintaining careful boundaries and separate lives."
"That was your plan. I had different ideas."
"Your ideas involved conquest."
"My ideas involved partnership."
"And conquest."
"Perhaps a little conquest."
"You conquered me completely."
"Good."
"Is it?"
"Yes. Because you conquered me too."
They kissed, long and sweet, until Morrison's pointed cough from the doorway interrupted them.
"Lord Potts is here, my lord."
"Potts?" Lucien straightened. "The one Julian pushed into the fountain?"
"The very same, my Lord."
"What does he want?"
"To apologise, apparently."
"He wants to apologise? For what?"
"Perhaps you should ask him yourself, my Lord."
Lord Potts, when he was shown in, looked remarkably contrite for a man who'd been the victim of fountain violence. He was a portly gentleman with thinning hair and a nervous manner that suggested he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Lord Blackthorn. Lady Blackthorn." He bowed. "I've come to apologise."
"For?" Lucien's tone was not encouraging.
"For my behaviour last evening. My comments were inappropriate and ungentlemanly."
"Your comments were insulting to my wife."
"Yes." Potts shifted uncomfortably. "They were. I was... well, in my cups, but that's no excuse."
"No," Lucien agreed. "It's not."
"The thing is," Potts continued, "my wife was quite impressed by Lady Blackthorn. She said she showed remarkable spirit."
"She did," Arabella said, trying to be gracious. "Lord Potts, your apology is accepted."
"You're very kind, my lady. More kind than I deserve." He paused, then added, "Ashford was right to push me into that fountain."
"He was," Lucien agreed.
"It was rather sobering. Literally."
"I imagine it was."
"My wife laughed for twenty minutes."
"Did she?"
"She said it was the most entertainment I'd provided in years."
Despite himself, Lucien's mouth twitched. "Your wife sounds delightful."
"She is. Which is why I'm here, actually. She wanted to invite you both to dinner next week. Small gathering. Just a few couples."
"That's very kind..." Arabella began.
"We'll consider it," Lucien interrupted.
"Of course. No pressure. Just... the offer stands." Potts rose to leave, then paused. "Your dog, Lady Blackthorn. Is he really as criminal as they say?"
"Worse," Arabella said cheerfully. "Just this morning, he reorganized the linen closet."
"Reorganized?"
"According to his own mysterious system."
"How... extraordinary."
"That's one word for it."
After Potts left, Lucien said, "we're not going to that dinner."
"We might."
"Arabella."
"He apologised! And his wife sounds nice."
"His wife laughed at him being pushed into a fountain."
"Wouldn't you laugh if I was pushed into a fountain?"
"No. I'd push whoever pushed you into the fountain after you."
"How romantic."
"It's protective."
"It's the same thing with you."
"Romance and protection are entirely different."
"Not in our marriage."
"Our marriage is unusual."
"Our marriage is perfect."
"Our marriage involves a criminal dog and more chaos than any reasonable person should endure."
"Yes," Arabella agreed happily. "Perfect."