Epilogue #2
"Romance had nothing to do with it."
"Romance had everything to do with it."
"Now, about James…" Cordelia insisted.
"Fine," Lucien said, surprising everyone. "He can call. Once. For tea. With chaperones."
"Really?"
"Really. But if Thistle doesn't like him, he's out."
"That's not fair! Thistle doesn't like anyone except criminals!"
"Then Mr. Ashby better have a criminal side."
"He breeds spaniels!"
"Suspicious already."
"Lucien!"
"What kind of person breeds spaniels? They're basically decorative."
"They're hunting dogs!"
"They're fluffy accessories."
"You're impossible."
"I'm protective."
James Ashby arrived for tea the next day, and to everyone's surprise, Thistle loved him immediately.
"This is suspicious," Lucien muttered.
"He's being friendly!" Cordelia protested.
"Thistle is never friendly without ulterior motive."
"Maybe he just recognises a fellow dog lover."
"Or a fellow criminal."
"James isn't a criminal!"
"We don't know that."
"Lucien..."
"I'm just saying, the dog's approval is alarming."
But even Lucien had to admit that James seemed genuinely nice. He was young, five and twenty, with an easy smile and obvious adoration of Cordelia. He also, surprisingly, knew how to handle Thistle.
"No," he said firmly when Thistle tried to steal his watch. "That's mine."
Thistle, shockingly, dropped the watch and sat.
"How did you do that?" Arabella asked, amazed.
"I train dogs, Lady Blackthorn. Even criminal ones."
"He's not trainable. We've tried."
"Have you tried bribing him with better crimes?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Give him acceptable things to steal. Make it a game with rules."
"That's... that's brilliant," Lucien admitted reluctantly.
"It's what I do with my spaniels. They're natural thieves too, just prettier about it."
"I take back everything I said about spaniels."
"Does that mean..." Cordelia began hopefully.
"It means Mr. Ashby can call again."
"Really?"
"Really. Anyone who can manage Thistle deserves a second chance," Cordelia said, her tone half teasing, half admiring as she brushed a stray curl back from her cheek.
"Third," James murmured, his voice low enough that only those nearest could hear.
Arabella tilted her head. "Third?"
He nodded, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his teacup. "This is actually our third meeting."
Lucien leaned forward, one brow arched. "The village encounters?"
"And once at the Potts’ ball last month," James added, glancing briefly toward Cordelia.
Arabella frowned, setting down her cup with a soft clink. "We weren’t at the Potts’ ball."
"No," James said mildly, "but Cordelia was. With her friend Miss Finch."
Lucien’s chair scraped lightly against the floor as he sat up straighter. "You went to a ball without us?" he demanded, his voice rising in mock outrage.
Cordelia’s lips twitched. "You hate balls!" she reminded him.
"I hate attending them," Lucien countered, gesturing expansively. "I don’t hate knowing about them."
Arabella groaned. "That makes no sense."
"It makes perfect sense," Lucien said with confidence.
"It makes Lucien sense," Arabella corrected dryly, tapping her spoon against the saucer. "Which is different from regular sense."
"Still sense," Lucien muttered.
"Barely sense."
"My sense."
Arabella threw up her hands. "Which explains everything."
They began to bicker in the easy, practised way of people who had been doing it for years, their voices rising and falling in rhythm. James and Cordelia exchanged a glance over the noise; a shared look that clearly said this is normal, just let them tire themselves out.
"So," James said finally, seizing a pause in the argument, "I hear there was a fire."
"Three fires," Lucien corrected immediately, leaning back and folding his arms. "All deliberately set."
“It was eventful,” Arabella said with a laugh that was half incredulous, half proud. "I gave birth during it!"
James blinked. "During the fire?"
"Immediately after," she said, waving a hand as if brushing aside the absurdity of it. "The stress brought on labour."
"That’s..." James began.
"Chaotic?" Arabella supplied before he could finish. "Yes. Everything with us is."
"I was going to say brave," he said, smiling faintly.
"Or foolish," Lucien suggested under his breath.
"Brave," James insisted. "Definitely brave."
Lucien smirked. "Like diving into a lake for a dog?"
"I heard it was more of a fall," James said, eyes glinting.
"It was a dive!" Lucien corrected.
Matilda chose that moment to wake from her nap with a cry that suggested the world was ending.
"I'll get her," Lucien said immediately.
And he was already up the stairs, returning moments later with Matilda, who immediately stopped crying and grabbed his cravat.
"See?" he said triumphantly. "She just wanted attention."
"From you."
"She has excellent taste."
"She has your wrapped around her tiny finger."
"Proudly."
"Pathetically."
"Same thing when it comes to daughters."
"Fair point."
Matilda, having achieved her goal of attention, now turned her considerable baby charm on James, who made the mistake of leaning too close.
"She's lovely...ow!"
"She grabbed your hair," Cordelia said unnecessarily.
"Strongly!"
"She's practising," Arabella explained.
"For what?"
"Everything."
"World domination," Julian suggested, entering without invitation as usual. "Starting with hair pulling."
"She's not planning world domination."
"Have you seen her glare?"
"That's Lucien's glare."
"Exactly. Tyrannical."
"I'm not tyrannical!"
"You made a chart about acceptable breakfast foods."
"Organisation isn't tyranny!"
"Colour-coded organisation is."
"That was your idea!"
"Which you implemented with frightening efficiency."
"Someone has to maintain standards."
"Boys," Arabella interrupted. "You're scaring James."
James, indeed, was looking between them with barely concealed alarm.
"This is normal," Cordelia assured him. "They're best friends."
"We are not!" Lucien and Julian said in unison, then glared at each other for agreeing.
"See?" Cordelia said. "Best friends."
"I preferred when he was a beast," Julian muttered.
"I preferred when you lived elsewhere," Lucien countered.
"You invited me to stay!"
"That was temporary!"
"That was a year ago!"
"Still temporary!"
"Face it, you'd miss me."
"That's honest."
"Gentlemen," Arabella said firmly. "Matilda is trying to sleep."
They both looked at the baby, who was indeed dozed off despite their arguing, still clutching her father's cravat.
"She sleeps through chaos," Lucien said proudly.
"Essential skill in this house," James observed.
"You're learning," Arabella said approvingly.
"I'm adapting."
"You'll fit right in," Julian declared. "Welcome to chaos."
"I haven't proposed yet!"
"You haven't?" Cordelia asked, disappointed.
"I need Lord Blackthorn's permission first."
"No," Lucien said automatically.
"Lucien!" Arabella and Cordelia protested together.
"What? He hasn't even proven himself yet."
"How should I prove myself?" James asked earnestly.
"Train Thistle."
"To do what?"
"To stop stealing."
"Impossible."
"Then no marriage."
"That's unfair!"
"That's the challenge."
"Lucien," Arabella protested.
"Fine. Train him to steal only from specific people."
"Who?"
"People I don't like."
"That's everyone!"
"Not everyone. I like... some people."
"Name three."
"Arabella, Matilda, and... Morrison."
"That's your wife, daughter, and butler!"
"Still people!"
"Barely!"
"I like Cordelia too," Lucien added grudgingly.
"Four whole people. Amazing."
"And Thistle."
"The dog doesn't count!"
"He counts more than most people."
"That's disturbing."
"That's accurate."
"Fine," James said, standing. "I'll train Thistle. Give me a month."
"A week."
"Two weeks."
"Ten days."
"Deal."
They shook on it, and Arabella had the distinct feeling she'd just witnessed something momentous.
"Did you just arrange my marriage around dog training?" Cordelia asked.
"Yes," Lucien and James said together.
"Men are impossible."
"But trainable," Arabella said. "Like dogs."
"I resent that," Lucien protested.
"But don't deny it?"
"I can't deny truth."
And so they bickered into the evening, while James began his seemingly impossible task of training Thistle, Cordelia watched with hearts in her eyes, and Matilda slept through it all.
It was, Arabella thought, perfect chaos.
Their chaos.
Forever and always.
***
Ten days later, James stood in the morning room looking remarkably pleased with himself.
"I've done it," he announced.
"Done what?" Lucien asked suspiciously.
"Trained Thistle."
"Impossible."
"Watch."
James produced a list from his pocket. "Thistle, Lord Potts."
Thistle immediately trotted to the window where Lord Potts’ card lay on a side table, picked it up delicately, and deposited it in a basket James had brought.
"Now that's just fetching," Lucien protested.
"Thistle, Lady Worthington."
This time, Thistle went to Arabella's side and just lay down calmly.
"He can identify specific people?" Arabella asked, amazed.
"He can feel when you are calm around someone. Now watch this. Thistle, enemies."
The dog's entire demeanor changed and he went and sat between Lucien and Arabella.
“Thistle, Cassandra.”
Suddenly the dog started barking and they could tell that he was feeling danger.
"How did he know?" Lucien demanded.
"Dogs can sense emotion. He can feel when you are not calm around someone."
"That's... actually impressive."
"So I pass?"
"You trained him to steal more efficiently. That's not exactly what I asked for."
"You asked me to train him to steal from specific people. He now only steals from people you dislike."
"That's everyone!"
"Not true. Watch. Thistle, family."
The dog immediately went to where Matilda was sleeping in her basket, lay down beside her, and gently placed his head protectively over her blanket.