Chapter 15
The next hours brought their first social call as a properly married couple who had survived a ball and conquered society.
Arabella wore Madame Phillipe's sapphire creation, which made her eyes seem impossibly blue and her skin glow like pearl.
Lucien wore his usual black, but had allowed his valet to add a sapphire pin to his cravat that matched her dress.
"We look coordinated," he complained as they prepared to leave.
"We look married."
"That's what I said."
"No, you said coordinated like it was a bad thing."
"It's... conspicuous."
"Everything about us is conspicuous. We might as well embrace it."
"I don't embrace conspicuous."
"You married me. That was fairly conspicuous."
"That was necessary."
"It was both."
They were interrupted by Thistle, who had apparently decided he should join the expedition and was sitting by the door with his leash in his mouth.
"No," Lucien said firmly.
Thistle wagged his tail and inched closer to the door.
"Absolutely not."
More wagging. Another inch.
"We are not taking you to pay morning calls."
Thistle dropped the leash and barked once, a sound that managed to convey both argument and determination.
"He makes a good point," Arabella said.
"He didn't make a point. He barked."
"It was a very articulate bark."
"Arabella."
"He'll be good."
"He's never been good a day in his life."
"He might surprise you."
"The only surprise would be if he didn't steal something."
"Then we'll be prepared."
"We can't take a dog on morning calls."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not done."
"Neither was marrying me after five days, but you managed that."
"That's different."
"How?"
"That was... that was..."
"Yes?"
"Fine. Bring the criminal. But when he destroys Lady Potts’ drawing room, I'm blaming you."
"Fair enough."
The carriage ride to Lord and Lady Potts’ estate was marked by Thistle's attempts to stick his head out the window and Lucien's attempts to maintain some semblance of dignity.
"He's getting drool on the doors," Lucien observed.
"It'll dry."
"That's not the point."
"What is the point?"
"The point is we're trying to make a good impression."
"I think we're past that. Our impression is already made."
"What impression is that?"
"Chaotic but entertaining."
"I'm not chaotic."
"You married me after fishing me out of a lake."
"That's not chaos. That's... decisive action."
"That's chaotic decision making."
"It's worked out well."
"It has," she agreed, taking his hand. "But it was still chaotic."
Lady Potts received them in a drawing room that was exactly what one would expect; pale pink walls, delicate furniture, and enough china to populate a small village. She was a plump, cheerful woman who looked nothing like her dour husband.
"Lord and Lady Blackthorn! How wonderful!" She paused, noticing Thistle. "And you've brought your famous dog!"
"Infamous," Lucien corrected.
"Oh no, definitely famous. He's all anyone talks about. The dog who started the romance of the season!"
"He didn't exactly start it," Arabella said.
"Didn't he? Without him stealing my friend's slipper, you'd never have met."
"That's... actually true."
"So really, we should all be grateful to him."
Thistle, recognizing praise when he heard it, wagged his tail so enthusiastically that he knocked over a small table. A vase met an untimely end.
"Oh!" Lady Potts exclaimed.
"I'm so sorry..." Arabella began.
"Oh, don't be! I've hated that vase for years. My mother-in-law gave it to me. Now I can honestly say it met with an accident."
"You're not upset?"
"My dear, I have six children. Destruction is a daily occurrence. At least your dog is charming about it."
Thistle, apparently taking this as permission, settled himself on the best chair with the air of visiting royalty.
"He has excellent taste," Lady Potts observed. "That's my husband's chair. He'll be devastated."
"We can move him."
"Don't you dare. I haven't seen my husband that animated about anything in years. The fountain incident was the best thing that's happened to our marriage in a decade."
"The fountain incident?" Lucien asked carefully.
"Oh yes. He came home soaking wet, full of righteous indignation, then realized he'd entirely deserved it and laughed for an hour. We haven't laughed together like that since our honeymoon."
"That's... unexpectedly positive."
"Marriage is full of unexpected positives, isn't it?" Lady Potts’ eyes twinkled. "Though I suspect yours has been more unexpected than most."
"You could say that," Arabella agreed.
"Five days from meeting to marriage. It must be a record."
"Four days, technically," Lucien corrected. "We met on a Thursday, married on Monday."
"Even better! Though I suspect you'd been falling in love from the moment you met."
"Falling is one word for it," Lucien said dryly.
"Diving," Arabella corrected automatically.
"You two are delightful," Lady Potts declared. "My husband said you were standoffish, Lord Blackthorn, but you're not at all."
"I'm extremely standoffish," Lucien protested.
"No, you're protective. There's a difference."
"Why does everyone keep saying that?"
"Because it's true. You protect what you love. Speaking of which, that was magnificent, what you said to Lady Velott."
"Which part?" Arabella asked.
"All of it, but especially the bit about you choosing to see Lord Blackthorn as a man, not a beast. Half the ladies there were in tears."
"Happy tears?" Lucien asked suspiciously.
"The happiest. We do so love a romance, especially one involving reformed rakes."
"I wasn't a rake."
"No, you were something better. You were broken."
Lucien stiffened. "I beg your pardon?"
"Oh, don't take offence. We're all broken in some way. But you were visibly broken, which made your healing visible too. And that gives the rest of us hope."
"Hope for what?"
"That our own broken pieces might mend. That love really can conquer. That beauty isn't about perfection."
She said it simply, without drama, but Arabella saw Lucien's throat work as he swallowed hard.
"That's... very kind," he managed.
"It's very true. Now, tell me about this criminal dog. I heard he reorganised Mrs. Fielding's linen closet?"
They spent the next hour regaling Lady Potts with Thistle's exploits, each story more outrageous than the last. She laughed until she cried, declared them the most entertaining couple in the county, and insisted they come to dinner.
"With the dog?" Lucien asked, somewhat desperately.
"Especially with the dog. My children will adore him."
As they prepared to leave, Lady Potts pulled Arabella aside.
"My dear, a word of advice?"
"Yes?"
"Don't let society change you. Either of you. You're perfect exactly as you are—chaotic dog, reformed beast, and brave lady who falls into lakes."
"Dived," Lucien called from the doorway.
"See?" Lady Potts smiled. "Perfect."
They made three more calls that day, each one easier than the last. Society, it seemed, had decided to embrace them—not despite their oddities but because of them. The Beast and his Lady were the romance of the season, and everyone wanted to claim proximity to their story.
"This is exhausting," Lucien said as they returned home.
"But good?"
"Surprisingly, yes."
"You sound shocked."
"I am shocked. I actually enjoyed myself."
"Lady Potts was lovely."
"She was. Though her vase collection was disturbing."
"Thistle took care of that."
"He did. Perhaps he has uses beyond chaos."
"Targeted chaos."
"The best kind."
They found the household in an uproar when they arrived. Mrs. Fielding met them at the door, looking frazzled.
"My Lord, my Lady, we have a situation."
"Let me guess," Lucien said. "Thistle?"
"How could it be Thistle? He was with us."
"Good point. Then what?"
"We have visitors."
"Visitors?"
"Your family, my Lord."
Lucien went very still. "My family?"
"Your aunt, specifically. Lady Agatha."
"Agatha is here?"
"In the blue drawing room, my Lord. With her three daughters."
"Heaven help us all."
"Who's Lady Agatha?" Arabella asked.
"My father's sister. A dragon in silk who believes everyone should live by her very specific rules."
"And her daughters?"
"Vapid, vicious, and vindictive, respectively."
"Lovely."
"We could run," Lucien suggested. "Take Thistle and disappear into the night."
"It's four in the afternoon."
"Into the late afternoon, then."
"We can't run from your family."
"I've been doing it successfully for years."
"Well, now you have me. We'll face them together."
"You don't know what you're saying."
"I faced Cassandra."
"Cassandra is a gentle lamb compared to Aunt Agatha."
"Then we'd better get this over with."
They found Lady Agatha holding court in the blue drawing room, her three daughters arranged around her. She was a formidable woman with iron-gray hair and an expression that suggested she disapproved of everything.
"Lucien," she said, making his name sound like an accusation.
"Aunt Agatha."
"You got married."
"Yes."
"Without inviting family."
"It was a small ceremony."
"It was a rushed ceremony. Four days, I heard."
"Five," Arabella corrected, stepping forward. "You must be Lady Agatha. I'm Arabella."
The older woman's gaze swept over her like a cold wind. "You're the girl from the lake."
"I'm the woman from the lake, indeed."
"The one with the dog."
"Guilty."
"Where is this creature?"
"Probably in the kitchen, destroying something."
"You allow destruction?"
"I encourage it. Keeps life interesting."
Lady Agatha's eyes narrowed. "You're not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"Someone more... apologetic."
"For what?"
"For trapping my nephew in marriage."
"Ah." Arabella smiled sweetly. "I didn't trap him. He trapped me. Quite publicly. With witnesses."
"He rescued you."
"And then proposed. Very trapping behaviour."
"You could have refused."
"I could have. But have you seen your nephew? He's quite attractive when he's not brooding."
One of the daughters, the vapid one, Arabella guessed, giggled. Lady Agatha silenced her with a look.
"You're very bold."
"I'm very married. To your nephew, which makes us family."
"Family," Lady Agatha repeated as if the word tasted bad.
"Yes. Would you like tea? Or would you prefer to continue interrogating me without refreshments?"
"I would like..."
She was interrupted by Thistle, who came into the room carrying what appeared to be Lady Agatha's very expensive reticule.
"That's mine!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, he's welcoming you to the family," Arabella said calmly. "It's how he shows affection."
"It's theft!"
"It's redistribution of property. Very different thing."
Thistle, apparently deciding the reticule wasn't interesting enough, dropped it and moved on to investigate the daughters. The vindictive one shrieked. The vicious one tried to kick him. The vapid one, surprisingly, knelt down and began petting him.
"He's lovely," she said. "What's his name?"
"Thistle."
"Like the plant?"
"Exactly like the plant. Prickly but ultimately beneficial."
"I like him."
"Cordelia!" Lady Agatha snapped. "Don't encourage it."
"But Mother, he's sweet."
"He's a thief."
"He's enthusiastic," Lucien corrected, finally entering the conversation. "And he's family."
"A dog is not family."
"This one is. He's the reason I met Arabella. That makes him the most important family member we have."
"That's ridiculous."
"That's accurate."
"Lucien, you've clearly taken leave of your senses."
"On the contrary. I've finally found them."
Lady Agatha stood, gathering her dignity like armor. "I came here to see what sort of disaster you'd married."
"And?"
"And I find myself... surprised."
"Pleasantly?" Arabella asked hopefully.
"That remains to be seen. We'll dine with you tomorrow."
"We will?" the vicious daughter asked.
"We will. Someone needs to ensure this household isn't completely chaotic."
"Oh, it definitely is," Arabella assured her. "Completely and utterly chaotic. You'll hate it."
"I probably will," Lady Agatha agreed. "Seven o'clock. Don't be late."
She swept out, her daughters trailing behind. Cordelia paused at the door to wave at Thistle, who wagged back enthusiastically.
"Well," Arabella said after they left. "That was..."
"Terrible?"
"I was going to say interesting."
"Interesting is one word for it."
"She's coming to dinner."
"Heaven help us."
"It might be nice."
"It will be awful."
"The vapid daughter liked Thistle."
"Cordelia isn't actually vapid. She just pretends to be because it's easier than fighting with her mother."
"That's sad."
"That's survival."
"Well, she's welcome here. Vapid or not."
"You're going to adopt my cousin?"
"Someone should. She clearly needs rescuing."
"Like a dog in a lake?"
"Exactly like that."
"You can't rescue everyone, Arabella."
"No, but I can try."
"This is how we ended up with Thistle."
"And look how well that worked out."
They both looked at Thistle, who had somehow procured a cushion from somewhere and was methodically destroying it.
"Perfectly," Lucien said dryly.
"Exactly," Arabella agreed, and kissed him.