As soon as they exited the ballroom, footmen closed the doors behind them, and gestured to Luke’s valet and Clara’s maid, who stood at the front door. “What is going on?” Clara snickered, as her maid took her mask and handed her a hoodedcloak and winter gloves. Luke’s valet had removed the armour, and given him his winter clothing as well.
“Would you like to take a walk with me?” Luke’s voice held uncertainty.
“Right now?” But the hurt on his face made her instantly regret her words. She placed a hand on his arm. “No, Luke, I am happy to.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “I am just … confused.”What was going on? How did her maid know to bring the coat? Why were they going for a walk in the dark of night during a festival?
But apparently, they would not be walking in the dark. As Luke led her out the front door, she discovered that hundreds of lanterns and candles had been placed on the gravel pathway leading to the gardens. The flickering light was beautifully …romantic?Is Luke trying to be romantic? To me?She looked up, but his face remained straight ahead.
The candle trail ended at a small bench nestled just inside the flower garden. A wool blanket had been draped across the wrought iron seat.He has planned this, she realized, and her heart started beating rapidly, though why, she did not know. He carefully led her to the seat, gently pulling the blanket around her shoulders before sitting beside her.
Clara’s million questions were dying to stream from her lips, but after her inquiry in the foyer, she couldn’t ask them. Luke had obviously planned something, but she was growing increasingly worried as she wondered what it might be.
From his pocket, Luke pulled out a small velvet box. His hand shook as he passed it to her. “Happy Christmas, Clara."
“Thank you,” she whispered back. Her heart pounded so fiercely she wondered if he could hear it.
She fumbled as she opened the gift. Inside was a beautiful golden locket, oval in shape, with three engraved flowers boasting sapphire centers. Inside lay two empty compartments, and on the back, in a beautiful script font, were engraved the words, “My Queen.”
“Do you like it?” Luke whispered, and for the first time that evening, their eyes met. He looked so scared, so nervous, and seeing him in such a state made Clara forget her own concerns.
“It is beautiful!” she reassured him. “Absolutely lovely.” The baron sighed in relief. Seeing him relax slightly helped Clara’s heart slow, at least somewhat.It is Luke,she reminded herself.Just you and Luke. Nothing scary.
“May I put it on for you?” he asked, his voice so tender, Clara’s heart fluttered back into a frenzy.
“Yes,” she carefully placed it in his hand before twisting her back toward him.It is just Luke.She repeated over and over, but something was not right, and she felt very near crying as he gently clasped the necklace into its proper place.
“Clara?” he whispered as she turned to face him once more. “I have something I need to tell you.”
“Go ahead,” she replied, though she feared she did not want to hear what he had to say.
“I love you.” It sounded more like a confession than a declaration.
And, in self-defense, Clara acted as if she did not understand. Her tone was friendly, playful, as she patted his knee. “Well, of course you do.” She did her best to smile. “We have been friends for a very long time.”
“Clara,” his words were raspy, “I do not think you understand.” And before she knew what was happening, Luke pulled her in and kissed her. It was gentle, tender,cherishing. Exactly what Clara would have expected from him … well, except for the kissing part. Just when she thought he would pull away, the kiss changed, becoming passionate. One of his hands cupped her neck, and the other slid down to the small of her back. The yearning in the kiss was unmistakable as if he were begging her to see him. To understand him. Tolovehim.
Without thinking, Clara kissed him back, twirling her fingers in his curly hair, and, surprisingly, as the kiss continued, her heartbeat slowed. A peace washed over her as the kiss softened once more. She felt warm, safe, and happy. She smiled against his lips, lowering her hands down to rest on his cheeks. As she did, reality crashed back down at full force.Stop! It is Luke! Stop!She pulled away.
But she had confused him—and herself—with her response. Smiling, Luke took one of her hands in his, bringing it to his lips. “Stay with me,” he pleaded.
“I can’t. John and I are going to London.” The Season was beginning in a few days.
“No, Clara, I am asking you to marry me.”
And instantly, the dread that had slowly been building in the pit of her stomach leapt into her throat. She couldn’t breathe. She was going to be sick.
Luke’s green eyes glistened down at her. “I love you,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her again.
But she turned her head. “You are not thinking clearly.” She wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or herself.
“I have thought this through,” he insisted, “I have been thinking this through for years.” His words were becoming more earnest.
“I want to go to London.” It sounded stupid and juvenile, but she wasn’t sure what else to say.
“I will take you,” he pleaded. “I will take you to London.” She watched as tears pooled in his eyes.
But she couldn’t say yes. Clara knew she was the wrong fit for the shy Lord Maxwell. She longed to host, to be surrounded by people, to enjoy the wonders ofTownand society.
“Clara, please.” He began to cry. “I will cherish you, and care for you. I will make sure you are happy.”
