The only strange thing, Clara thought, as sleep started to claim her, was Rook’s shout before he had drawn her mouth to his at the very end. It had sounded like ‘…lara’.
ΦΦΦ
“You look awful.”
“I thank you, Jack, and a very good morning to you too,” Rook scowled back. He knew he had bleary eyes this morning, and he looked unusually rumpled – he felt like that as well. Rumpled and shaken. He shovelled some more toast into his mouth, hardly tasting the exquisite bramble jam that had taken the cook and maid a day to collect and make.
He’d brought his breakfast to the study today – he was in no mood for doing the pretty with his guests. Only Jack had found him out.
“You did drink quite a lot of whisky last night. And before that, brandy – never a good mix. Then, the wine at dinner, and then at lunch the –”
“Yes, thank you again for pointing out yesterday’s liquor consumption. Haven’t you a widow to bed or something?”
“Do you know,” professed Jack, plunking himself into the seat opposite Rook’s desk, “I spent last night alone and slept like a babe. Maybe women are the reason I sleep so badly.”
Rook snorted in response. Jack was right, women were also the reasonhehad slept so badly.
He watched Jack help himself to a large coffee. Rook had already drunk three and felt somewhat strange.
“Soooo,” Jack started quizzically, and Rook closed his eyes. “Any more ideas about the masquerade woman? We didn’t find her last night, and that’s all the dark-haired women that are here. You either have to start on the other guests at the ball again, or…it could be an errant servant who dressed as a guest?” he ventured with horror. “No too outrageous, sounds like a gothic novel. You may have to start again with the women here, maybe you missed –”
“Jack, shut up,” Rook groaned. He had thought about keeping quiet about last night. But Jack knew him too well; he would know something had happened and inveigle it out of him. He’d torture him with questions and inane chatter, until Rook admitted all.
Jack would make a good spy – he could just talk confessions out of people. And the worst was that Rookneededto tell someone. He had awoken cold, shirtless and bloody uncomfortable on the couch and, at first, had wondered if it had all been a liquor-induced dream. But his breeches had been unbuttoned, and there was a faint stinging on his shoulder. A wound of four neat fingernail ovals was etched into his skin – it hadn’t been a dream.
“You remember the curiosity room?” Rook asked tautly.
“Yes. We went to find that ‘Robbie Burns’ book with the rude songs in it. Thought it was with all your other ribald books that are locked away from the ladies. Couldn’t find it. I went to bed and left you searching. I was too drunk to read anything, let alone sing.”
“Hmm, yes. I felt a bit…tired.” Rook ignored Jack’s cough, which sounded suspiciously like ‘foxed’, and continued, “so, I sat on the couch for a nap. When I awoke the candle had gutted, and a female was in my lap.”
“You lucky old dog! That never happens to me.” Jack clinked his coffee cup against Rook’s.
“Jack, be serious. This is… difficult.” Rook placed his head in his hands, glad he had decided to take his breakfast in the study today.
“Sorry, old boy. Tell Uncle Jack all. I promise to listen.”
Rook told him about the woman. He left certain gaps for Jack to fill in, and by Jack’s wry grin, he was filling them in just fine.
“And youstillnever discovered her name? Poorly done, Rook. Poorly done.”
“Well…yes, I fell asleep afterwards,” he said, a little ashamedly. “But that wasn’t the worst. I…” Rook wasn’t sure where to begin. “I couldn’t stop thinking about Clara. At some point, my wits…my reason vanished. Iwasslightly…bosky. I imagined it was Clara with me… touching me. And at the…end…”
Rook squirmed in his seat like a confessing schoolboy. “I said Clara’s name.” And with that he pressed his forehead to his desk and bashed it down twice.
“Well, well, well. You called a woman, although you don’t actually know her name anyhow, by someone else’s name, and it was Clara’s. How in-ter-rest-ting,” Jack said slyly. “And the woman didn’t slap you and rush off in a huff?”
“I don’t think she realised what I had said. She was too er…”
“Happy?” Jack interjected, thoroughly relishing the situation. It wasn’t often, actually never, that he had seen Rook unsure, embarrassed and confused.
Rook raised his head. “I feel like a downright cad. God, she even mentioned Clara.”
“She did?” his friend enquired with a raised eyebrow. “What did she say?” Jack had a strange look on his face.
“Just mentioned I’d spent a lot of time with her, but I didn’t want this woman’s mouth even talking of Clara in that way. I wanted to still her tongue, so I kissed her and then…well…”
Rook bashed his head onto the desk again. He was absolutely disgusted with himself. He felt guilty as hell, as though he had betrayed Clara with another woman. He didn’t know at what point he had started imagining Clara, only that her body was a perfect match, and lately it seemed every time he looked at Clara his blood heated. Was it any wonder that the first instance he was alone with a half-naked woman he had gone a little mad?
