Page 16 of A Spinster's Guide to Landing a Lyon

“What else would he be, Arabella?”

“There’s no need for such a clipped tone, Amelia.” Ooooh. The way Arabella drew out her name increased the amount of bubbles already bubbling in her blood. Her fists were clenched at her sides while she stomped out across the garden.

They were supposed to do watercolors today. Another blood-bubble inducing activity. But it was one of Arabella’s favorite pastimes. And surely it had to be safer than horseback riding yesterday.

“I just mean…” She took a deep inhalation to settle her annoyance. “Why would I bring him here if not to be a husband?”

“Yes. A husband, indeed. Just perhaps not mine.”

Amelia whirled toward her sister, thankful that Benedict was well ahead of them. In fact, he was assisting the footmen in carrying their easels and supplies. Which was surprisingly kind of him. And irritating.

Couldn’t the man just sit back—stand back, ride back, hold back? Why did he have to involve himself in everything?

“Explain yourself, Arabella.” Her fists were on her hips now as she glared at her younger sister. Some days she wondered at how they were even related, they were so opposite of each other.

If it had been Amelia on the defensive, she would have stood tall, tilted her chin, and pushed her feet solidly into the ground to hold her stance.

But not Arabella.

She looped her arms around Amelia’s statuesque pose and pulled her fist free from its rightful position.

“Amelia. I know this is a difficult situation for us to be in.”

She cleared her throat to coax Arabella into reevaluating that statement.

“Fine. It’s quite possibly the worst situation we have ever been in and may ever be in for the entirety of our lives.” Tilting her head, she blinked hard. Twice. “Was that better?”

“Certainly more accurate.”

Arabella chuckled, as only she could in the face of such astronomical pressure.

“It will all work out. And if you end up marrying Benedict instead of me, perhaps that is for the better.”

Amelia was spluttering so much she couldn’t force her mouth to make words.

“Botheration! What the deuce are you going on about? I’m not interested in Benedict.”

“Tsk. Tsk. No need for such language, Amelia. Really.” The teasing glance thrown her way only served to needle its wayunder her skin. Like a pesky mouse, burrowing into her. “You may not be keen on him, but I can’t say the same for him.”

A jolt thudded against Amelia’s chest. What was her sister saying? She couldn’t possibly mean—

“It just seems that Benedict has eyes only for you.”

“Pfft…” That was about as intelligible as Amelia could make herself sound in the moment. All of the years she had spent pining after men that wouldn’t give her a second glance, and now her sister was suggesting that the one most forbidden man of her life was ogling her.

“Amelia. The man rescued you on horseback. How much more romantic can he be?”

“That wasn’t romantic. It was necessary.”

“You’re an exceptional rider. You would have managed to regain your footing and ultimately get your horse under control.”

She wasn’t wrong. On either account. It was romantic. Obscenely romantic. So much so that he had weaved itself into her dreams. Again.

“I can’t…He’s not for me, Arabella.”

“He could be.”

“We need him to rescue you. Not me.”