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“May I?” Clara asked.

“It would be rude of me to prohibit you,” Gerald said, although she knew enough of him by now to hear the undercurrent of tension in his voice. Sir Lionel escorted her to the dance floor.

“I know you may resent me for pulling you away from your suitor, and what a fine man he is. However, I felt as though I needed to take the opportunity to dance with you while you are yet unmarried. I may not get another chance, and if you forgive me for saying so, you are the most beautiful woman here. A true diamond, if that is not a trite expression.”

Clara smiled, for his words seemed earnest.

“Not at all, and it is quite apt, for my great-grandmother was the diamond of her season,” she said, and this led to a longer conversation about their family histories.

Gerald was a man with conflicting emotions. On the one hand his plan was working perfectly. Eleanor had space to enjoy the evening and her dance card had a few names added to it, but on the other hand… Clara was dancing with another man. The surface thought was that people might not believe their courtship was genuine if she could so easily dance with someone else. Indeed, he noticed that a few women lingered nearby, as if they waited for him to ask them for a dance.

That invitation was never given.

Deeper inside him there was something stronger, a more vibrant feeling that churned within the very depths of his soul. Sir Lionel was an elegant dancer. Clara spun, laughed, her hair flowed, her leg kicked out. She looked effervescent, and he realized that he was going to have to join the ranks of the jealous that evening.

It turned out that pretending to court Clara was far easier than watching her dance with another man.

Chapter Seven

“Emily mentioned you wanted to have a word,” Gerald said.

A few days had passed since the musicale. Clara was currently in the greenhouse, leaning over a table. Locks of hair framed her face. She glanced up to see Gerald standing in the doorway. He was sans his jacket, just a shirt wrapped around his body, a cravat around his neck. It was easier to discern the shape of his taut muscles. Clara forced her gaze towards the table, where her drawings lay next to plants.

“Did she? I’m afraid she sent you here without cause. I don’t have anything to say,” Clara replied.

“That must be a first for you.” Gerald grinned.

Clara glanced up and gave him a waspish look, although it was only temporary. She appreciated his quick thinking, and she was also starting to believe that Emily had her own little scheme going on as well. Clara placed a wildflower beside one of her drawings, smiling at the fine detail.

“I’ve always been taught to speak my mind. Nothing good ever came of being quiet. I know some people do not like being challenged, but I believe that says more about them than it does about me.”

“And what does it say about them?”

“That they are afraid.”

“Of being wrong?”

“Yes, and of being proven wrong by a woman. Some people do seem to believe we’re here exclusively to look pretty and bear an appropriate heir.” Clara lifted her gaze, as if to challenge him. There was an implied question, and she was keen to see if Gerald noticed. He approached the table and picked up one of the drawings, turning it towards himself.

“I think anyone who feels threatened by a woman is a fool.”

“Because there is nothing to fear?” Clara asked, feeling the first prickles of anger rising inside her, ready to strike at him with her words. He grinned.

“No, because one can learn a lot. I have always been impressed with the tenacity of women. After all, this place wouldn’t exist if Rose had not been determined. She tried to get help from many men who turned her down, thinking that it was not a profitable venture. They only saw profit in a monetary sense, not in the good that it could do. Thankfully, she was not one who accepted ‘no’ easily.”

“I can see why she and Grandmother liked each other,” Clara said, smiling.

Gerald chuckled. It was a warm laugh, and Clara found that she liked it as much as she enjoyed the music of the pianoforte.

“Indeed, I’m curious to know what it was like when St. Margaret’s was first opened. Your great-grandmother is formidable enough at her age; I can only imagine what she was like when she was younger,” he said, his gaze lingering on Clara, which made her neck prickle with warmth.

“I wouldn’t go around describing her like that; she doesn’t like to be reminded that many years have passed.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I must say that Sophie’s drawings have really come along,” he said, holding one up and examining it. Clara stifled a laugh and was half-tempted to let him keep believing that Sophie had produced the illustration.

“While that is true, Sophie did not draw these. I did.”

Gerald’s head turned sharply, and a look of amazement sparkled on his face. He looked back at the drawing, and then his gaze returned to Clara.