“Good.”
They walked past walls and back gates through the pelting rain in silence. When they reached the gate to the Griffin house—the crest on top of the iron gate was, in fact, a griffin—Alden pulled her to a halt.
“Why good?” Clara asked before Alden could begin the apology he’d been rehearsing.
“Pardon?” What the devil was she on about now?
“Why is it good that I never cease arguing?”
He plucked a sodden leaf from the top of her hat and dropped it from his glove. “Because no one will ride roughshod over you. And if they try, they will answer to me.”
Clara’s eyes widened in the faint light from the house beyond. “Toyou? I never thought you were such a friend to me.”
“You are wrong.” Alden shook his head as she drew a breath to answer. “No, do not argue withthat. If you need me, you have only to call.”
“I see.”
Her answer was soft, and Alden couldn’t decide if she was pleased or annoyed by his declaration.
The rain had slackened somewhat, but the darkness was heavy in this lane. He touched Clara’s cheek, leaned down, and kissed her once more.
Her mouth shook, but Alden didn’t let the kiss lengthen. He eased away, brushing his fingers along her jaw. She returned his stare, unabashed, before Alden made himself leave.
“Good night, Clara,” he said quietly, and started for home.
“Alden.”
He swung back so quickly he startled even himself. “Yes?”
Clara hesitated, gripping the gate’s handle. “Make certain Harvey has a good breakfast.”
He cleared his throat. “I will. Good night.”
“Good night, Alden.”
He couldn’t turn away first this time. Alden waited until Clara opened her gate and slipped inside, then stood there a while longer until he heard a door to the house creak open and then click shut again.
Only then could he point his feet in the direction of his own house to hasten there through the rain.
He heard the dog’s howls long before he slipped into his own garden. The poor lad didn’t like being shut away, alone, and Alden couldn’t blame him.
He let out a long breath, entered his house, and made his way to his bedchamber, then gathered blankets and a pillow from the wardrobe where Milford stored spare ones and tramped back downstairs with them, out to the garden shed.
“She’ll be back in the morning,” he told Harvey when he entered.
Alden spread the blankets on the most even part of the shed’s floor, pried off his boots, and stretched out. Harvey immediately lay on the edge of the blankets, collapsing with awhuff.
He seemed resigned to the fact that he’d have to wait for Clara, as would Alden. But the idea that she’d return tomorrow, without fail, made the air in the cold shed somehow lighter and warmer.
*
At daybreak, Clarahurried down the path toward Alden’s garden. The rain of the previous night had gone, with actual sunshine peeking through tattered clouds.
She wasn’t certain whether to knock on the large wooden gate or simply walk inside. If the gate was locked, she’d have to go around to the street and approach the house’s front door, something she did not wish to do. It was highly inappropriate for a young lady to pay a call on a gentleman without a good reason.
While she hesitated, she heard frantic barking behind the wall and Alden’s loud voice.
“Hold still, confound you!”
