"I did, of course, realize that this was your property, but I headed east from Westonbirt when I left this morning. I don't know why, but I did, and the eastern border is really much closer to the house than any of the other ones, and so since I like to take fairly long walks, it's only natural that I'd reach the border, and I didn't think you'd mind." Belle clamped her mouth shut. She was babbling. That was unlike her, and she was quite annoyed with herself for doing it.
"I don't mind," John said simply.
"Oh. Well, that's good, I suppose, because I have no wish to be forcibly thrown off your property." That sounded really stupid. Belle shut her mouth again.
"Would it really require force to get you off my property? I had no idea you liked it so much."
Belle smiled impishly. "You're teasing me."
John gave her another one of those small smiles, the kind that would have said so much if the rest of his face weren't so inscrutable.
"You don't talk much, do you?" she blurted out.
"I didn't think there was a need. You seem to be holding up both our ends of the conversation admirably."
Belle frowned. "That was a horrid thing to say." She looked up. His velvety brown eyes, usually so unreadable, were filled with amusement. She sighed. "But true. I don't usually talk this much, you know."
"Really?"
"Really. I think it's because you're so silent that I feel the need to talk more."
"Ah. So we have shifted the blame to my shoulders?"
Belle glanced flirtatiously at his shoulders, which were a little broader than she'd remembered. "They do seem a bit more capable of bearing such a heavy load."
John grinned at her, really grinned, which was something he didn't do very often. He suddenly felt glad that he'd worn one of his better coats; he frequently threw on old ones for his early morning walks. Then he was annoyed with himself for caring.
"Is this a new fashion?" he asked, motioning to the boot in her hand.
"Blister," Belle said, lifting her dress up a few inches. It was risque, she knew, but she shrugged it off. The two of them had such bizarre conversations, normal rules of etiquette just didn't seem to apply.
Much to her surprise, however, he got down on one knee and took her foot into his hands. "Mind if I take a look?" he asked.
Belle tugged her foot back nervously. "I don't think that will be necessary," she said quickly. Seeing her foot was one thing. Actually touching it was something else altogether.
John held fast. "Don't be a prude, Belle. It could become infected, and then you'll really be miserable."
She blinked a few times, more than a little surprised at his bold use of her first name. "How did you know that I'm called Belle?" she finally asked.
"Ashbourne told me," John replied, examining her pale toes. "Where is this damned thing, anyway?"
"On my heel," Belle answered, dutifully turning around.
John let out a low whistle. "You've got a nasty one there. You ought to get a more comfortable pair of shoes if you intend to hike around the countryside."
"I wasn't hiking, I was walking. And I do have better shoes. I just hadn't intended to take a walk this morning until after I was dressed, and I didn't feel like changing my attire." Belle let out a frustrated sigh. Why did she feel the need to explain herself to him?
John stood up, pulled out a crisp, white handkerchief, and took Belle's arm. "There is a pond not too far away from here. I can get some water to clean the sore."
Belle let go of her skirt. " I don't think that's necessary, John."
John warmed at her rather pointed use of his given name and was glad that he'd gone ahead and used hers without asking first. He decided he liked this Lady Arabella, even if she was a little too well-connected for his tastes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled so much. She was smart and fun-a little too beautiful for his comfort, but he was certain that with a little effort, he could control his attraction to her.
She did, however, have a rather appalling disregard for her own well-being, as evidenced by her lack of spectacles, her soon-to-be festering blister, and her penchant for unchaperoned excursions. She obviously needed someone to lecture a little sense into her. Since he didn't see anyone else nearby, he decided he might as well be the one to do it, and he started walking toward the pond, practically dragging her along behind him.
"Jo-ohn!" she protested.
"Be-elle!" he countered, imitating her complaining tone perfectly.
"I'm fully able to take care of myself," Belle said, quickening her stride to keep up. For a man with such a pronounced limp, he could move fast.
"Obviously not, or you'd have spectacles perched on your nose."
Belle halted in her tracks with such force that John actually stumbled. "I only need them when I read," she ground out.
"It warms my heart to hear you admit it."
"I thought I was beginning to like you, but now I'm certain that I don't."
"You still like me," he said, grinning as he started pulling her again toward the pond.
Belle's mouth fell open. "No, I don't."
"Yes, you do."
"No, I-all right, maybe a little," she allowed. "But I do think you're acting rather high-handed."
"And I think that you have a hideous little blister on your heel. So stop complaining."
"I wasn't-"
"Yes, you were."
Belle shut her mouth, aware that she'd been blabbering away far too much. With a sigh, she finally gave in and let him lead her to the pond. When they reached it, she sat down on a grassy patch near the shore while John walked over to the water and dipped his handkerchief into it.