“I have been a fool. I know you did not mean—I should not have thought that you—” He broke off, muttering at the floor. “Damn it!”
Like mother, like son.
Emalyn spoke softly. “Shlow. Breathe.”
Clara turned her glare on the duchess. “You arranged this?”
The older woman nodded. “When one’s child ish an arshhole, one tries to make amends.”
Honora began to pant.
“Michael, get up! You are giving my mother the vapors!”
Instead, he went down on both knees. “You know I am not good with words. But when I saw you on that hill... you were magnificent. You were a—”
“Do not say it. Do not!”
“A goddess.”
Honora found her voice. “A goddess? Are you mad?”
Clara turned on her. “Should someone not think I’m a goddess?”
Michael persisted. “I was wrong. I thought you betrayed me, that you were like—”
“Eleanor Carlson.” Clara thought she would choke on the name. No wonder he had turned away from her.
“But I have realized you are not. Were not. But when I thought about the look you gave Radcliff when you knew the duke was prone to dueling. It felt as if it had been your goal all along.”
Clara swallowed the lump in her throat. “Hadleyton.”
Michael froze. “What?”
Honora’s eyes narrowed. “That despicable man who tormented you for so long?”
Clara nodded, and Michael leaned back on his heels. “What about him?” The wariness in his voice almost amused her.
“That look I gave Radcliff was about Hadleyton. I despise the man and hope he spends a great deal of time being humiliated, but I did not think he deserved to die because he kept dousing me with lemonade. The more the duke put a claim on me, the more Hadleyton risked getting shot. You said the duke is a good marksman, an experienced dueler. I have known Hadleyton since we were children. He does not even hunt. He could not hit a stag from fifteen feet with a shotgun. You lifted him off the ground by his cravat. Wykeham would have put him in his grave.”
“So the duel—”
“How could I have known your father would challenge the man to a horse match? That you would try to win me by starting a new business to prove your worth? To build your reputation with horses by creating such a scene at Tattersall’s that it will be talked about for years?”
“He what?” Honora sat straight, looking from Clara to Michael. “He did what?”
Clara rubbed three fingers across her forehead, which had begun to ache. “Mother, all you saw was Wykeham’s title.”
“We wanted you settled! You rejected every other suitor.”
“Except Michael Ashton! You would not believe I would be happy as the wife of a vicar.”
“How about the manager of Ashton Park?” Emalyn said, a voice of calm in the storm.
Clara looked at her. “What did you say?”
Emalyn’s grin was sly. “Philip agreed to make Michael the manager of Ashton Park. Thish eshtate will become hish reshpo—hish charge, and he will live here with hish family, ash long ash he lives.”
Honora frowned. “But Lord Thomas—”
