Page 24 of A Spinster's Guide to Landing a Lyon

He leaned back and propped his feet over his knee. “What do you mean, Amelia?”

“I mean, you’re agreeing with everything I’m saying and you haven’t once argued with me.”

“Oh.”

“See? Even that right there. You should have said that you don’t argue with me.”

His hands slid slowly down his thighs.

“Do I normally argue with you?”

“Stop it.”

“What?” his lips curled up in a half smile.

“You are not this agreeable.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Benedict,” she practically growled. “This is one day. A very special event. And despite the circumstances, I want to make it a lovely event.”

“For who?”

“For my sister.” But even as she said it, she realized that her sister had not been on her mind for the last few minutes. Being so befuddled by Benedict, she had completely neglected to consider her sister’s preferences, which, in hindsight would actually be the opposite of hers. She made a note to herself to later reselect everything with only her sister in mind.

She shifted back in her seat and crossed her feet at the ankles.

“This is all besides the point,” she mumbled in a feeble attempt to regain some control. “You’re supposed to argue with me. That’s how this works.”

“Hmm…” It was a low murmur. A murmur so low that it slipped under the hem of her dress and pranced its way up her calves.

Fiddling with her teacup, she avoided his eyes.

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

Her eyes flew to his. “What—”

And with perfectly terrible timing, Arabella flounced into the room. Not the type of flounce one would execute after just getting over a megrim. More the type of flounce one would make when one was meddling. “Oh, there you two are. My megrim has cleared. Where are we in the planning?”

“Almost done,” Amelia said, shuffling her papers and rising to her feet.

“Splendid. Shall we go for a walk?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Amelia said at the same time as Benedict.

There. That was more like it. The world didn’t quite make sense if Benedict was on her side.

“Splendid.” With a clap of her hands, Arabella led them out of the room.

Once the air hit her face, Amelia accepted that this was probably a good idea. Fresh air was always a good way to clear her head and reset her thoughts. Almost as good as swimming. Which…well, that hadn’t worked. So surely walking would.

Surely.

Chapter Fifteen

Dear Lady Amelia,