Page 17 of A Spinster's Guide to Landing a Lyon

“Well, then…” Her head tipped to one side and her eyes looked off into the trees on the horizon.

“Arabella, what are you thinking about now? Please don’t tell me—”

“I have an idea. Just for amusement’s sake. Let’s put him to the test and see how he responds.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“You mean the best idea.”

“No. I mean terrible.”

Arabella waved her sister’s concerns away. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

Not only did Amelia feel justified in thinking the plan was terrible, but she also thought the plan was inexecutable.

“You’ll be fine. Just follow my lead.”

And Amelia could only watch as Arabella sauntered over to the area where the easels were now being set up.

Some small part of her—a very teeny, tiny, miniscule part, as in, a part so small that a person needed a magnifying glass or two to see it—wanted to know the results of this test Arabella wanted to run.

That was the part that followed her younger sister’s lead into trouble.

Chapter Eleven

“What are thosetwo whispering about now?” Benedict mumbled to one of the footmen.

“I couldn’t say, Your Grace.”

Not that Benedict had expected an answer. Having only one sister, he hadn’t been a witness to the incessant murmurings, and he never would have expected so much of it. It was almost as if they were scheming. But what could they be scheming about? He was already here. Willing to marry.

“Ah, this looks lovely.” Arabella announced to all those present. All, being three: two footmen and himself. Often she spoke as if she were on a stage and everyone else was merely looking on. She wasn’t conceited about it, not that Benedict could see, but she embraced any and all attention. Without knowing for sure, he assumed she took that role because of her age. She was so young. Much younger in body and mind than Benedict had been prepared for.

When he glanced between the two sisters, he guessed that there might even be a decade between them. And though Arabella wasn’t a debutante, she was much closer in age to being one than Amelia.

Amelia who stood a couple of feet away, hands crossed over her body, glaring at him. Glaring for what? He didn’t know. Shouldn’t she be grateful to him more than anything? He had saved her not once, but twice. And he was in the process of saving her family from scandal, though he didn’t know the full details yet. So should she be grateful rather than disdainful? Yes. Why yes, she should.

His eyes slipped over to Amelia who was awkwardly trading glances with her sister. Her lips were pulled tightly back and her eyebrows looked menacing. As menacing as eyebrows can look. Especially hers. Soft, light brown, framing her green eyes perfectly.

“Thank you for setting up our equipment for a lovely afternoon of watercolors.” Arabella projected her voice again.

Benedict wasn’t as thankful to be painting as she was, but was willing to go along with it. The previous day’s rescue still had him reeling. Saving Amelia was becoming something of a habit for him. The odd thing was that he couldn’t precisely say he minded it.

Except of course that he was supposed to be defying thetonand actually saving a woman from scandal. Not marrying an old spinster. Though…it felt wrong to refer to Amelia as an old spinster. She was more like a strong-willed, strong-spirited, fine specimen…of a spinster.

But it was the younger sister he was here for. A duke should marry a person of exceptional character and reputation, so for him to marry a woman ensconced in secrets would be his way to buck society’s conventions and show everyone that he was going to live his life however he wanted.

A quick glance between the two sisters, one on either side of him now, suggested that they were somehow whispering to each other again. Without words. Or sounds.

Best to get on with things.

“Shall we start painting—”

“I just need to discuss a small matter with Amelia—”

“We already discussed it. I’m fine.” His startled eyes swung to Amelia and the way she ground out her words.

“But we just need to make sure—”