Page 18 of A Spinster's Guide to Landing a Lyon

“I’m fine. We can…go along with it.” Half of what she was saying made no sense. Well, really, most of what she was saying made no sense to him directly.

“Are you sure?” Arabella asked to clarify. But certainly nothing was being elucidated for Benedict. In fact, he was quite sure now that the sisters were able to converse without really vocalizing anything of substance. They must have a secret language.

“I’m sure. And I’m sure I’m right,” Amelia held her gaze steady on her sister.

“We shall see about that,” Arabella turned as if to take her seat in front of the easel to paint.

Benedict was in mid squat when he heard—

“Ahhh! My leg!” Arabella shouted, suddenly flopping to the ground.

“Oooh, my…erm…my foot,” Amelia called out on the other side of him.

Had he missed something? A swooping bird? A scurrying mouse? He couldn’t say that he saw anything of either kind.

But his heart leapt into his throat as he watched Amelia grab her foot and begin to hop. Without a conscious thought, his feet took off toward her to prevent her from falling over.

“Are you alright, Amelia? What happened?” As far as he could see, nothing had happened. It was the most curious thing.

“I’m…erm…I’m fine.” She stood, shaking her head. One of her hands rested lightly on his shoulder in the most natural way.

When he turned his head to check on Arabella, he could have sworn he caught her mouthing something to her sister that looked oddly like,I told you.

“Are you alright, Arabella?” he asked with concern laced in his voice.

“Oh yes. Quite alright. I don’t know what happened. Just one of those silly moments where you fall over, you know?”

No. He did not know.

“Yes. It happens all the time.”

No. No, it did not.

The younger sister stood—sans limp—and sighed with what sounded like elation. “Well, shall we get to our watercolors then?” Arabella had a smug look on her face, as if she had just won a competition. But what competition that was, he did not know.

Apparently he knew very little right now.

Except one thing…he knew he liked how his hands felt around Amelia’s waist and how her hands felt on his shoulders. Even in the short time that they had known each other, this was a common posture between them.

Unfurling her fingers from him, Amelia freed herself and found a stool to perch upon in order to begin painting.

Which was for the best. The woman was all poise and overly concerned about her image. She was exactly the same as…well, what he had experienced before and wanted nothing to with again. Yet…he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something different about her.

It looked like this afternoon would be full of unknowns.

Ah, yes. How could he forget to add to the list, watercolors? Another thing he knew nothing about. Oh well. He was here to show off his best self and make a match with Amelia—Arabella. He meant, Arabella.

Chapter Twelve

“I’m going togo for a little walk to stretch my legs.” After placing her paintbrush on the small ledge of the easel, Arabella stood up from her stool.

And try as she might, Amelia couldn’t ignore the sly wink that Arabella shot in her direction.

God, that girl was determined. And of course she just had to go and be right about how Benedict would move to save Amelia first if both girls were in trouble.

But what did that silly little experiment prove? Nothing. Not a thing. He had been standing a few inches closer to Amelia, so it only made sense to reach for her first.

Not that she could make sense of him not going to Arabella’s side after he had ensured she was alright.