He does not know me!She mentally cried.He doesn’t care!The man seemed to value popularity and little else. He was a leech, feeding off of her high status like no one had before. But it was considered a fair trade, for she would receive a castle of her own and a title to go with it. In the eyes of society, she was fortunate indeed.
I do not care about those things!She protested. She longed for true relationships, not material things.I want friends! I want relationships with people who are genuinely kind!But she was surrounded on all sides with aristocrats who thought only of themselves. This was not how things were supposed to be. She was supposed to be thriving and happy.
“I want to go home,” she whispered to Lord Gallant, but the man simply fanned away her comment, dragging her to meet another pompous gentleman.
Chapter 25
A Wise Mother
London
Clara had returned home late from dinner with her dear friend Alice, but she had too many swirling thoughts to be anywhere near ready to sleep, so she slipped into the townhome’s library. It was small compared to the estate's bookroom, though still held a large array of volumes. A round table stood in its center, with two sofas and several wooden chairs encircling it. Ornately carved ladders helped shorter readers reach the books on the upper shelves.
Clara selected a volume about King Arthur and settled into the closest sofa. Unfortunately, the book did not distract her from her problems. After long, tedious hours with Isaac, Clara felt she understood all there was to know about the man. She had made a valiant effort to form a connection, but as Lord Gallant became more and more invested, Clara became less so. Perhaps it was because they were too similar. They each wanted to be the center of the excitement. They were equally used to being the leader of a group, not the follower. Two social giants seemed the perfect pair, but in reality, their talents did not compliment each other. They competed against one another, making the relationship feel strained and uncomfortable.
Or perhaps it is because he is a self-centered boar,she thought to herself. It wasn’t a kind assessment, but it was an accurate one.
Clara’s efforts to invest in herself, however, had not been totally unfruitful. During the day, while the duke strutted around in the royal court, Clara's drawing room was full of women friends once again. Emily Astley had come calling on multiple occasions, and Clara enjoyed chatting with her. She was young and silly, but in a way that was refreshing. Picturing the world from Emily’s viewpoint was far less stressful than Clara’s.
Unfortunately, Papa’s headaches had only grown worse, and Clara had seen very little of him in the past few weeks. Even still, he had assured his daughter that, headache or no, he would attend the ball with her the following Friday.
Lord Gallant’s ball.Clara had tried to forget.
Isaac was throwing a large, prominent party. Every person of thetonlonged for an invitation. There was a strict dress code, lavishly talented scheduled performances, and a dinner that would surely impress even the most snobby food critic. There was talk that the regent himself would be there. But the most exciting news was the rumor swarming that Lord Gallant intended to propose to Lady Clara in some elaborate, grandiose way.
Society seemed far more keen to the idea than Clara did.I should not have encouraged him,she sighed,I do not want to live with the Duke of Preston.But it wasn’t her choice to make.
“Clara?” Papa called as he entered the library.
“Papa?” she answered in surprise. It had been several days since he had left his dark bedchamber.
“There you are!” He took a seat on a wooden chair next to her. He looked much thinner and slightly ashy. His once speckled hair was fully gray, and his face covered in an unkempt beard, but it was Papa’s eyes that troubled Clara most. They looked sunken, defeated, and worn. “I need to talk to you.” Once his weight was in the chair, he closed those tired eyes and rested his hand across his forehead.
“You should have stayed in bed,” she chastened.
Papa ignored her concern. “I have a meeting with Lord Gallant tomorrow.”
She took a big shaky breath. “I understand.” Isaac would need her father’s permission before proposing.
“ClaraBear,” Lord Merritt opened his eyes, giving his daughter a look full of pure, genuine love that made him seem far more like his usual self. “I have gone against the queen’s wishes before, and I am not afraid to do it again. Tell me what you want, what you truly want, and I will make sure it happens.”
But Clara did not know what she wanted. She was so confused! It had always been her dream to marry a handsome duke, to be the center of the London scene, to attend balls and shows and all sorts of events. But something was missing in her life. Something big and important. After only another second of thought, she realized what it was.
“I want my mama,” Clara whimpered, as a tear slid down the side of her cheek. There was no denying she had a special connection with her father, but in such an important decision, she needed her mother. “Please, let me go home and talk to Mother.”
Papa nodded in approval. “I shall stay and meet with Lord Gallant. If you leave tomorrow, you should have plenty of time to go to Rosecrest and back before the ball. Yes. Go, get the advice of your wise mother, and give her a kiss for me.”
“I will,” Clara promised as she stood to leave, giving Papa one last pitiful look before taking the first step. She was relieved to be going home. She usually mourned leaving London, but this Season, she could not seem to flee quickly enough. Hopefully, Mother would have the answer to her problems.
Spain
Luke was pretty sure he was courting Miss Valentina Flores. Not that he intended to! She just followed him around like a lap dog. She was at his breakfast table when he first awoke, waiting at the gate when he and John returned from riding, and secured herself an invitation to dinner more often than not.
Mother was thrilled! And it was seeing her happy that made Luke tolerate the woman, but tolerance was all he could manage. Valentina was obnoxious. There was no other way to put it. She complained constantly. “It is too hot. It is too cold. I am bored. I am hungry.” On and on and on. If Luke found English women scary, Spanish women were downright petrifying. Yes, it was nice they had more freedom and could be loud, flirtatious, and touchy. But could they do it to someone else?
Not that it mattered at this point. Luke and John were going home at the end of the week, and, though she would be highly disappointed, they had no intention of taking Miss Flores with them. The question was, what did John intend to do about his girl? Not that Luke had ever actually confirmed there was one, but the future earl had spent hours away from the house doingsomething,and it was high time Luke asked what it was.
“So …” Luke started as they began their morning ride, “are you sad to be going home?”
