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The man who stood ramrod straight at their parents’ funeral, who walked into rooms with his head held high even as gossip about their family spread like mushrooms, was shaking his head slowly in horror at the prospect of love.
The impact of her words was satisfying at first, but as her anger dissipated, only compassion remained. She’d wanted her words to wake him—well, and perhaps shock him a little—but not knock him down.
She searched for reassurances about the risks and benefits of a great love—a language David could understand.
How could she describe the glory, the comfort, the beauty she’d discovered? How could she justify why it was no longer a bar to her that James’s family wasn’t inBurke’s, why she walked through an inferno to find him at the docks, or why she would even risk her connection to her closest family?
Clara glimpsed a kaleidoscope as beautiful as James’s hazel eyes—flashes of images and feelings of their time together. Her palm rested over her abdomen where the culmination of that love now grew.
David has to learn for himself.
Her brother wouldn’t want to hear such private matters about his sister, even if she didn’t have to keep them secret for now. Given his tortured state, he wouldn’t be convinced by words, even if she could find them.
“Why?” He gasped the word. “Why would you wish such torment upon me?”
“David! A hex this is not. Alongside the suffering, you’ll know true acceptance. You’ll meet someone new, love her, and in so doing, discover more aboutyourselfthan you can imagine.”
“No, thank you!”
“Resist, if you wish. It won’t change anything.” She tapped the door to the carriage, and the footman opened it.
David accompanied her to her front door, offering his arm even as he himself wasn’t terribly sure on his feet. She held onto his elbow, steadying him, and wondered if this would be the last time he would walk her to her door.
For tomorrow night was the ball.
