“What did she say?” Luke whispered. He wasn’t sure what questions his mother would want answered.
Mother ignored him and instead stood, walking over to her son and wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. “I am sorry, Luke,” she whispered into his hair. “That was a very brave thing you did. I am sorry it did not end the way you wanted.” She patted his curly head, and Luke felt like a young boy again. Like little Manuel, who ran to his mother to get a kiss for every small scrape.
“I really wanted her to be my wife.” His heart ached just saying the words.
“Of course you did.” Mother rubbed his back. “She is a sweet girl, but there will be other girls. You will see.”
But Luke’s heart had belonged to Clara for so long, he did not believe it could ever find its way to another. “What did she say in the letter?” A question that had been on his mind since he first laid eyes on it.
Mother released him and returned to her seat. She picked up the paper and began to read. The first page asked questions about Isabella and Manuel, and Mother’s life in general. Clara expressed her joy to hear Mother could embroider once more, and shared several other ‘Clara-loving-people’ remarks. The words were obviously from his love, and Luke’s heart both rose and fell hearing them.
And then Mother pulled out the second piece of parchment:
It is possible Luke has told you by now, but I wanted you to understand why I could not marry your son. He is an amazing man. One of the best I have ever known. In fact, he is my best friend, and I have loved him for some time now. But my love did not match his, and I know I would not be a good fit for him. Luke would be truly miserable having to keep up with my social schedule. I wish I had realized his intentions, so I could have dissuaded him from proposing as he did. It was beautifully romantic and sweet. My heart broke having to reject such a thoughtful gesture from someone I care so deeply for. I truly am sorry for the pain I have caused him. I never meant to hurt him. I am disappointed to not have you as a mother-in-law. I respect you so greatly. Please, take care of Luke while he is gone. I worry for him.
Lady Clara Merritt
And in that moment, Luke discovered three months was not nearly enough time to mend his broken heart. The sorrow washed over him again—Clara's rejection, losing the Merritts, knowing he would eventually have to go home to his big empty house. “I would have done anything for her,” he whispered as the tears started prickling his eyes. “No social schedule would be as miserable as being without her.”
Mother didn’t say anything as she stood from her chair, wrapping her arms around him once more, holding him protectively, just as Clara had asked her to.
And while Luke sobbed in his mother’s arms, he felt comforted. Strengthened. Like he finally had the closure he had been seeking. His problems did not go away,in fact, they were more out in the open than they were before. But he did not have to fight this battle alone. He had two families who loved him and wanted what was best for him. Even if he had to be separated from them, just knowing they cared bolstered him in a huge way.
His tears dried quickly, but he continued to hug his mother until little Isabella began to fuss in the other room. “I will get her,” Luke said tenderly as he led Mother back to her seat. “Finish your breakfast.” So, the baron rocked his baby sister in the creaky wooden rocking chair. The dark-headed baby girl, with the same green eyes as the rest of the family, cooed happily, and Luke cooed right on back as he playfully tickled her little round tummy. The baby’s tiny giggle was infectious, and Luke giggled back.
It almost made him laugh thinking how terrified he had been of the children that first day. Now that he had come to know them, he found he much preferred children to adults.
His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Mother commented from the doorway, “You will make a great father.” Luke had not realized he had an audience. Soundlessly, she walked over and took the baby from his arms. Isabella clutched her mama’s brown curls as they both settled in.
“And I would love to have some grandchildren to spoil,” Mother whispered with a gleam in her eye. A strange comment from a woman holding her own baby girl. “Perhaps you should give love a second chance.” Though if she meant loving Clara or a new woman, Luke could not say, and he was too afraid to ask.
Chapter 22
Persuade Him
London
“So I shall see you at the Smiths’ ball, and then on Friday at the Luthers’ dinner. Do you plan on attending the theater Saturday night?” Lord Gallant asked from his seat on the opposing sofa as he flipped through his commonplace book. Each Monday, Clara and the duke compared social schedules, determining which events they would attend separately or together. It was practical, but did nothing to further their connection. Even after several months of ‘courtship.’ Clara had not learned a single thing about the man other than he liked to socialize. They had never once discussed anything deeper than a preference of chicken over fish. They were surface level friends, acquaintances really, and yet the lackluster relationship prevented her from forming any others. Somehow, she had entered a new class of women, though truth be told, it was only her among them. No one else was ‘somewhat engaged’ to a young duke who showed absolutely zero interest in truly getting to know them. She felt isolated and alone, even when standing in a large crowd of people. No one here understood her, nor did they care to. At first, she had been shown a great deal of attention, but when the gossip ran out, so did those willing to spend time with her. Of course, Alice checked in when she could, but she was a busy wife and mother. All those times Clara had assisted those inneed, and yet, in her confusion and loneliness, no one took the time to care for her.
Papa did his best, but the political war was raging. He was often gone during the day and was pressured by other lords around him whenever they went out. He regularly asked Clara to find a different chaperone, as his head constantly ached. Sometimes Alice would accompany her, other times it was a cousin, or aunt. More and more regularly, when Papa could not leave the house, Clara stayed home. She sat on the drawing room sofa, picturing Luke sitting across from her, reading her a book, or simply listening as she expressed all of her many concerns. Luke always was a good listener.
“Lady Clara?” Lord Gallant interrupted her thoughts, “the theater?”
“Oh, my apologies, your grace,” Clara responded instinctually. “Yes, I would enjoy the theater.”
“I shall fetch you at nine,” he added the note to his book, much like one would add items to a grocery list. “Any other events I should know about?”
This is going nowhere!
Something on the other side of her brain argued back,so fix it.
Fix it? How? He is not interested in me!
Then make him interested! You know how to get what you want. Stop sitting around waiting for someone to rescue you, and fight for yourself!And while she did not appreciate the sassy way in which her brain brought attention to the fact, it was true. Clara had been wallowing in grief and feeling sorry for herself. She had not made an effort to change her situation, but instead, mentally complained about it over and over. She could not change the fact that John and Luke were gone. She could not change Queen Charlotte’s desire for her to wed Lord Gallant, nor could she make Papa’s headaches go away. But shecouldreach out to her friends. She could find joy in society again, and with a little bit more effort, she could change the relationship between herself and the duke. She could probably even convince him to fall in love with her, if she tried.You did it with Luke,her brain reminded her,without even trying.The comment felt more like a stab in the heart than a line of encouragement.
Regardless, it was time to take action. “Lord Gallant,” Clara used her most flirtatious voice, “I was wondering if you would like to join me for a picnic tomorrow.”
“Let me see what I have scheduled.” He flipped through his book. While his eyes were down, Clara came and sat next to him, setting herself so close on the sofa, her pink skirts brushed his grey trousers. She placed her hand on his shoulder, and tilted her head to appear as if she were reading in his book as well.
