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“Thank you, Loudon,” Clara called over the banister upstairs. “I shall receive Mr. Robertson. He may come up.”
Loudon couldn’t conceal his surprise—and for a moment, contempt—before neutrality overlaid his expression. He stepped back, joining his two bristling colleagues.
James passed them and their radiating disapproval and propelled up the stairs.
Clara already retreated into her chamber, but the door was open for him.
She stood next to the bed tensely, arms straight down, fists clenched. “Howdareyou! I was abed. What are you doing here?”
His lips flattened, disappointed by her lack of welcome. “I’ve come to visit Aunt Violet’s birds.”
She blinked, and for a moment, he thought she might smile.Come on, lass.
“My servants arescandalized!”
James sighed. “Blast the servants. Tell me, would they be so ready to heap disdain upon my head if I held some old title?”
“Of course they would,” Clara bit out.
“Can you truly tell me that they don’t hold me in special disregard because of the lack of a title?” Met only with silence, he continued. “They’re not circumspect in the least. Your butler and footmen surrounded me like a pack.”
“It’s their duty to protect me.”
“Where have you been?” He’d wanted to change the subject, but his inquiry sounded more brusque than he intended.
“Here,” she said incredulously, gesturing about as if it were obvious. “Where do you think I’ve been? Moreover, it’s hardlyyouraffair where I go.”
“Why have you not contacted me?” Hearing his own petulance, he cringed.
“As I wrote to you, I will advise when I amat libertyto visit.”
His eyes roamed over her. “You seem ready now.”
Her arms crossed in front of her. “No, I’m not. My courses aren’t yet finished. But soon.”
James frowned, worried for her. “Isn’t this too many days to be in such a state?”
“What, pray tell, doyouknow of it?” She didn’t censor the bite in her tone, and turned with a huff to climb onto her bed. She settled against the pillows. “We’re not speaking of wool, factories, or rates of interest.Thoseare your specialities!” She shook her head. “Is that not too many days?” she mimicked in an irritated tone.
“True. I don’t know much about this.” He sat down on the edge of her bed. Much smaller than his, it was adequate, barely, for two.
“Rest assured that I’m capable of managing it. I shall visit when it’s possible,” she said pertly.
“I began to worry,” he admitted, reaching out to pick up her silky plait from where it trailed on the pillow. “Are you well?”
“Well enough.”
“It’s towards a fortnight since I have seen you. That’s too long.”
If his statement had any impact on her, she schooled her expression to avoid showing it.
When she finally did show a reaction, it was gruff. “How is it that you took care of your needsbeforeme?”
His brow furrowed; his hazel eyes darkened. “Do you truly wish to know? Or are you suggesting that I return to my previous method?”
“Yes and no.”
“Make up your mind,” he said gently, amused by her pert answer.
