“Well, the dog obviously didn’t.”
“Your friends frightened him. They areyourfriends, aren’t they? More of the reprobates we observe swanning up to your house at all hours.”
Even in the gathering darkness, Clara saw Alden flush. “They are my guests, yes. Let the dog go, Clara. He’s gotten along by himself thus far.”
She jammed her hands to her hips, skirts swaying. “I amnotgoing to let that poor dog freeze out here or be tormented by who knows what sort of people he’ll encounter.”
“You’d freeze yourself, then? That coat and hat are for an afternoon stroll, not an Arctic expedition.”
“London is hardly Arctic,” Clara said loftily. “That is a weak argument. I will be fine. Now, help me search.”
Mr. Forsythe hurried up to them, then leaned over, hands on his knees. “Jove, it’s been a while since I sprinted anywhere. The idiots are coming. Perhaps you should go, Lady Clara,” he said, straightening up. “They aren’t necessarily well behaved.”
Alden’s mouth set. “Please, do go home, Clara. My friends can be ill-mannered, and I do not want them to force me into defending your honor. Dueling is for fools—”
He broke off, his voice going hoarse, and turned abruptly away.
“He lost a friend to a duel,” Mr. Forsythe whispered to Clara. “It was his grave he was visiting today.”
“Oh.” Clara swore she’d seen Alden’s eyes mist over before he’d swung from her. “Alden, I am sorry. I didn’t realize.”
Alden faced her again, quickly swiping his eyes. His soiled gloves left streaks on his cheeks, which for some reason Clara wanted to reach up and brush away.
“There’s nothing to realize. I do not want you to meet them, because I will break their necks if they say anything disrespectful to you. I will stay and hunt for the blasted dog.”
Clara hesitated. Alden was trying to protect her, which both made her impatient and put a warm glow in her heart.
She also realized it wouldn’t be prudent for her to race around Highgate Cemetery in the dark on her own, searching for a dog who’d probably dashed out the gates to places unknown.
Alden’s offer to keep searching made the glow increase. “Very well,” Clara said. “If you promise.”
“Yes, yes.” Alden waved her off. “Go. The gate closest to the Heath is there.” He pointed along a path that intersected the one on which they stood.
“As I have lived here all my life, I know that.” Clara curbed her brusque words. “But thank you.”
“Good night, Lady Clara.” Alden tipped his hat, then firmly planted himself on the path, preventing her from going any direction but home.
“Good night, Lord Alden.”
Before she could express the same to Mr. Forsythe, he stepped next to her. “I’ll see you to the gate, my lady. Then return and help in the search.”
Clara gave Mr. Forsythe a grateful nod and a final one to Alden and turned to seek the path, Mr. Forsythe at her side.
“He doesn’t mean to be rude,” he said as they made their way beyond the line of tombs and out across an open patch of ground.
“Yes, he does,” Clara said with a wry laugh. “I’ve known Lord Alden for many years. At least, we’ve been nodding acquaintances for that long. Occasionally my family is invited to a garden party that his mother insists he put on. She comes up from Mayfair to host it.”
Mr. Forsythe laughed. “Ah, yes, those very respectable gatherings he never allows me to attend. Poor Alden. He explained to me once that it was hell to be an heir. He’ll be one day granted the title of marquess and vast wealth, and all he has to do for that is lose someone he loves.”
Something tightened in Clara’s chest. She could imagine Alden saying this, a bleak light in his eyes.
“You do have a pointed way of putting things, Mr. Forsythe,” she said. “Very well, I will try to be kind to him.”
“Good.” Mr. Forsythe halted as they reached a gate. “He needs kindness. Good night, Lady Clara.” He tipped his hat, his manners perfect.
“Good night, Mr. Forsythe. And thank you.”
He only smiled. Clara quickly opened the gate and slid through to the lane beyond, the gate clanging behind her in the chilly air.
