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“Yes, oh. I’ve three quarters of the collection put away.”
“Thatwas one quarter?”
“No.” She sighed. “Perhaps one eighth. The rest of the quarter is scattered about my home. Well, in truth, mostly in the unused bedchamber.”
He treaded carefully. “Do you have any particular fondness for birds?”
“I haven’t, not in particular.”
They laughed.
“And,” she continued in a somber tone, “I’d especially find it unsettling to see captive birds, the poor creatures.”
He shuddered. “Thank God I chose the orangery for our spur-of-the-moment plan. The close call proves your point about the nature of surprises.”
Laughing, she stroked his chest through his shirt.
“Were you close to your aunt?”
“Oh, yes. I went to live with her when my parents died. Violet was dear to me, very dear.”
It sounded as though Clara aimed for a measured voice, but he heard the sadness nonetheless, just as he sensed the sorrow radiating from her. His arms tightened around her. “How old were you when your parents died, lass?”
“Fifteen,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “They traveled to Italy and caught the fever on board the ship home. They died in London before I could see them again. I was home, at Anterleigh, and my brother appeared unexpectedly to share the news. At first I thought it was a splendid surprise.”
James made a low sound in his throat and pressed his lips to her temple.
“A year after I joined Violet’s household, her health turned. The physicians said she would live another year, perhaps two. She lived six more. Violet could be sweetness itself, but she had tremendous tenacity about her, too.”
He calculated in his mind; the aunt died only three years ago! “Is that why you haven’t married?”
She nodded. “In large part. Violet required a great deal of care, especially in her last few years.”
He closed his eyes. “The evening I called on you at home, I all but said you’d stayed unmarried to take lovers—when you’d been nursemaid and companion to an ailing aunt! Clara, I’m so sorry. By God, it’s a miracle you saw fit to see me ever again.”
She raised herself up on an elbow, regarding him with a bemused smile. “Can you see why I reacted as I did to your visit? To your proposition?”
He grimaced. “Aye.”
“Can you see why Ididsee fit to call on you? To embark on our adventure?”
He stroked her cheek, wanting to know even though the knowledge could bring peril. “Tell me.”
She nestled her head back onto his shoulder. “I never doubted it was right to stay with Aunt Violet. Aside from my uncle who’s lived in Italy most of my life, Violet and my brother were my only family. She loved me as she would a daughter.”
He cupped the back of her head. “And you were as loyal to her as a devoted daughter.”
“It was my privilege to care for her. But it broke my heart to witness her suffering, and the indignities the last years brought. When she died, I was grateful for her sake—and grief-stricken for my own.”
Clara’s throat closed, and her body stiffened in his arms. He took in a deep breath, as if he could breathe for her, and stroked her back.
After a minute, she continued. “I don’t know what awaits, spinsterhood or marriage. How could I not accede tothis? Experience something for myself.” Her hands tightened in his shirt.
James buried his nose in her hair, holding her closer.
Passion, he and Clara shared plenty, to the point of it being irresistible. Such a whim could lead to a torrid night, or a few—yet their nights together hadn’t slaked his thirst, only whetted it.
Nonetheless, he knew what his future held—or more precisely, what, and who, it didn’t.
He was a man who recognized and seized opportunities, including this one with Clara. The tenderness she bestowed was as temporary as the blooms on the orange trees.
He’d be damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy the beauty of it for as long as he could—until the bloom dropped its petals one by one.
