“Well, I would have thought blonde, but he is not. His hair is dark.” She clutched her skirts.Dark hair? Was this Lord Gallant’s son? What was he doing at Maxwell Manor?
Mother could sense the distress. “What about his eyes, Clara?” she asked gently.
Clara tried to picture the little boy with open eyes, but she couldn’t. “I cannot see them!” she snapped back, the fear continuing to grip her.
“That is all right,” Mama whispered, “you said there was another child.”
Clara nodded. “Yes, another little boy, in the bassinet.” But she could feel the imagination slipping. Confusion was pulling her back into reality.
“He is beautiful,” Mother whispered, “especially the curls.”
Clara threw her eyes open at the comment, and Mother’s face showed she was not surprised. “He cannot have curls, Mama.” The tears begin to sting her cheeks. “I have rejected him, and then the queen and Isaac and the ball.” She was blubbering, the tears coming more steadily down the sides of her cheeks.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mama comforted, wrapping her arms around Clara’s shoulders. “None of that matters, Clara. I just want to know if my grandson has curls.”
“How should I know?!” Clara’s emotions were out of control, and she pushed her mother away in anger. “I do not have any children, Mother! I do not know what they look like!” She threw her head in her hands. “I don’t know anything.” She continued to cry into her hands.
Why? Why was this so complicated? How had she made such a big mess of things?
“I am sorry,” Lady Merritt took a step back. “I went too far, Clara.” She gave her daughter a moment to compose herself before she continued. “Honey, you do not have to know who you are going to marry today. The only answer you need to know is if you want to be with the duke.”
“But the queen …” Clara croaked.
Mother put her hand up to stop her. “I have rejected the queen’s orders and lived to tell the tale. You may do the same.”
Clara lifted her head. “You what?”
“She wasn’t happy.” Mother took a seat on the edge of Clara’s bed. “But yes, I disobeyed the queen’s request. Her majesty desired me to serve as a companion for her, and I married your father instead.” The countess smiled. “It was the right decision, though Queen Charlotte was quite put out. In fact, I have begun to wonder if the arrangement of your marriage is more of a test for me than you.” She waved her hand as if the matter was of no importance. “I will handle the queen. Tell me, Clara, if we ignore what happened at court, if the social pressure was gone, would you marry Lord Gallant?”
It was not a question she had considered, but she did not have to think long. “No,” Clara responded without hesitation. “No, I would not.”
“Then, my dear girl,” Mother stood from her seat, “you had better go tell him.”
Chapter 26
A Flash of Black
Spain
“Write more!” Mother insisted as she hugged Luke goodbye. “I want to hear everything.”
“I am sure there will not be much to say,” Luke countered, giving her a hug in return, “but if I think of something, I will be sure to write it down.”
Mother rolled her eyes. “You had better!” She picked up a parcel from the tea table. “Here,” she said, “I made you something.”
Luke thanked her and carefully opened the envelope. Inside was one of Mother’s amazing embroidered portraits. This one was by far the most complicated, and depicted Mother, Alfonso, Manuel, baby Isabella, and Luke all in front of their Spanish house. “Thank you!” Luke whispered in awe. “Thank you.” Seeing the picture made him realize just how much he would miss his family. He pulled his mother back in for another embrace, trying to memorize the feel of her in his arms.
“I also have a letter for Lady Clara,” she whispered into his chest. “Should I give it to you or John?”
“Better give it to John,” Luke answered, releasing her and turning to say goodbye to the children. He had no intention of seeing Clara again.
The final goodbyes and expressions of love were given, and then John and Luke mounted their horses. As they drew closer and closer to the Spanish shoreline, the heaviness of his future began to sink on the baron once more. Sadness awaited him in England. He was sure of it.
London
For the next few days, it poured. The precipitation was so thick, one could not see much more than a foot in front of them. While Clara had intended to return to London quickly, the conditions were not safe to travel, so she and Mother spent the next few days enjoying each other’s company. It was nice to bond, woman to woman. They discussed in great detail Clara’s London Season. They had exchanged simple letters all year with limited particulars. But now, Clara and Lady Merritt passed many hours chatting about different people, fashions, and shops. It wasn’t deep conversation, it was friendly. Yes, Clara had reached the age where she and her mother could be true friends, and it could not have come at a better time.
Thankfully, on Friday morning, the roads were finally safe for travel. They were muddy and slow, but doable. The horses managed it better than the carriage wheels, so Clara decided to ride on horseback. She had never ridden that long before, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She rode hard and fast, but did not arrive at the townhome until after Lord Gallant’s ball had already started. She changed quickly, fully expecting to be the last guest to arrive.
