And the earl ran to her, wrapping her protectively in his arms. “It is all right, my ClaraBear. You are safe now. He cannot hurt you. I won’t let him hurt you.”
Clara could not stop crying. Her vision blurred. Her right eye was entirely swollen shut. Her head pounded. Nothing was making any sense.
But she knew one thing. Papa was here. He would not leave her. He would protect her. “Papa,” she repeated over and over, “Papa.”
“I’ve got you, ClaraBear. I’ve got you.”
Chapter 13
The Most Romantic Tale
After the traumatic incident in the hat shop, Clara returned home and slept until the following morning. Her wrists were covered in finger-length bruises. She had a pounding headache, and her cousin’s slap had given her a deeply-set black eye. Thankfully, a full night's sleep had helped dispel at least some of her achiness.
The morning sun filled her bedchamber and revealed a visitor reading in the corner. “Alice!” Clara said with a start. “What are you doing here?”
“You are awake!” Alice rushed to her side, replacing the cold, damp, cloth that adorned her head. “Oh Clara, I never should have taken you in that hat shop! Why, I had no idea Mr. Merritt would appear, and I definitely should not have left you. I panicked, and all I could think to do was to get your baron, and I-”
“Alice, Alice, please.” Clara’s head pounded from her friend’s incessant apology. She took a large, shaky breath. “Please, calmly tell me what happened, and close the window,” she added, “the light hurts my head.”
Alice quickly pulled the drapes closed and tugged the servant string. “Tea will help,” she whispered as she settled back down at Clara’s side, adjusting her thin glasses. “When I saw your cousin yesterday,” she started again, calmly this time, “I panicked. I immediately left the shop, leapt upon my horse and galloped all the way to the House of Parliament at Westminster.”
“No!” Clara said in awe. Surely, she had trampled people in the street with how fast her horse would have had to move to reach the building in time.
“Yes!” Alice whispered back, “I pushed my way right through the double doors, ready to plead for help.”
“And did you?” Clara asked in disbelief, no woman had ever done such a thing. Only men were allowed in the white chamber.
Alice shook her head. “One glance at me, and your baron called the whole meeting to a halt. He stood, and boldly declared he and Lord Merritt had an emergency.”
“My baron?” Clara questioned. “Do you mean Luke?”
“Lord Maxwell, yes.” Alice nodded. “I told him I had a horse outside, though of course it was saddled for a woman. But he rushed out and pulled the first man he found off of his horse and took that one!”
“He pulled a man from his horse?”
“And stole it!” Alice responded joyfully. “It was the most romantic thing I have ever seen!”
Clara did not see how robbery was romantic, but she had to hear the rest of the tale. “Then what happened?” she pressed.
“Your brother quickly followed suit, and the two galloped off. Your father found the constable, and then rode with him on his horse back into town.”
“My father rode on a horse with the constable!?” That was an image she wished she had seen.
“I am not sure what happened after that. By the time I was back at the shop, you were gone, and Mr. Merritt had been taken to prison.”
“Prison?” Clara questioned. As sad as it was, in nineteenth-century England, one did not earn prison simply from causing a woman harm.
Alice nodded. “Apparently he had many charges against him, and with an earl opposing him, he is lucky he only has a three-year sentence.”
“Oh my.” Clara shook her head in disbelief.
“So,” Alice pried, placing her elbows on the edge of the bed and resting her face in her palms. “What did Lord Maxwell do when he arrived?”
“I am not sure.” Clara tried desperately to make sense of the event, but her unsuccessful reflection only made her head pound more. “Someone pushed Mr. Merritt onto the floor.” She dived deeper into her memory. “And then John punched him.”
“But what did your baron do?” Alice asked, smiling gleefully as if Clara was about to share the most romantic tale.
“Luke …” she wracked her brain for the answer. “Luke put his arms around my waist …” Alice squealed. “And he told me something.”
