Julian looked at her then—properly, the way he sometimes did when she was not quite prepared for it. She did not look away. She had stopped pretending there was nothing to see.
She thought back to her conversation with Marianne. It was true that she was afraid, but it was also true that despite all of that, she felt comfortable next to him. Safe.
“Shall I try?” She looked at David and grimaced which made him loosen his grip on Julian.
She held out her own finger, and David grabbed onto it with one hand, while holding on to Julian’s with the other.
“Well, we are tied together now,” he said with a smile.
“We are, indeed.” She looked up at him, warmth spreading through her rapidly. “And I do not mind it. I … I want to tell you how grateful I am for how easy you made this transition for us both. Even if at times your jesting can drive me to distraction.”
“Only at times? I must do better.”
She did not respond to his attempt at a jest. Instead, she shook her head. “I mean it. I am grateful. You’ve made me feel safe and secure during this trying time.”
She looked at him, wishing he would reply with the same, that he would tell her something to encourage her further. Alas, he did not.
CHAPTER 21
“Ihave an idea,” Clara said the following morning at breakfast. “After what Marianne told us, I think it would be prudent for us to go to Dover ourselves.”
He looked up from his plate. “Us go to Dover? But Stanhope has already?—”
“He has. But he does not know what Bash looks like. Marianne does. Besides, she has contacts there. She could make enquiries—with us accompanying her of course.” She set down her cup.
“Think of it. Arabella believed that Bash followed her because he wanted the child. He is bound to have passed through Dover at some point. We could have Marianne describe him, and I could produce a sketch. I am quite capable with a pencil. We could show it to people. He may even have contacts in Dover since he was not staying at the inn where Marianne was living which suggests he knew someone there, someone he stayed with.”
“We could speak to the innkeeper,” she continued. “We could speak to people at the docks.”
He considered this. The prospect of going to Dover appealed in more ways than one. It would allow him to do something concrete rather than sit and wait for Stanhope or Nathaniel to bring word. It would also mean time alone with Clara which he knew he would enjoy and which fell squarely into the category of the things he should not do if he wanted to keep distance from her.
And yet.
The truth was that the more time passed, the more he recognized that his feelings for Clara were not the painted-canvas variety he had once had for Josephine. He had never spent much time alone with Josephine.
There had always been chaperones, always attendants, always the careful choreography of courtship. He had spent considerably more time with Clara already but perhaps not enough. Perhaps a journey to Dover, the two of them in close company for an extended period, would help him see that she was not perfect, that she was not the idealized wife he had dreamed of back when he still held such foolish notions. Perhaps it would help him see her faults.
He nodded. “Very well. We shall go. Speak to Marianne and find out if she is willing to come. I do not think we ought to bring David just in case Bash is truly there.”
“We will need someone to help with the children. We cannot very well expect Marianne to assist us and manage David and Molly simultaneously. I propose we bring my maid with them. She is familiar with children.”
“A sensible plan,” Julian said. Clara was always full of sensible plans. It was one of the things he liked about her.
By the following morning, they were packed. Clara and Marianne said goodbye to the children, and they set off in two carriages for Dover.
This was the second time he had been alone with Clara in a carriage. The first time they had been old friends thrown together by unusual circumstances. This time they were married, and the lines that had always been so clearly drawn between them had become, to say the least, considerably less clear.
“I think we should start at the inn,” Clara said. “We should take rooms and stay overnight. That way, we can question anyone there and see if they remember anything about Arabella.”
“A good idea,” he agreed.
“Pray, did you not use to own an estate in Dover?”
He looked up and nodded. “My father used to, yes, but it is let. Why?”
“You do not suppose Arabella would have gone there?”
“I should think not. It has been let for a very long time.” He paused then added, “Although I do recall that she was very keen to visit it some years ago. It came out of nowhere. She kept asking if we might go, and I could never quite fathom why.”
