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"Are there no sailors in Bath?" Though the wind had gone out of her sails at the mention of their time ending. She wished she’d pushed for a longer arrangement. Even if it was only another week.
But in a few days, Clara would be returning home rather than bantering with Hugh over novels or fantasizing about travel plans… or snuggling deeper into his protective embrace.
An embrace, once lost, that would leave her lonely and chilled, she feared, forever searching for the warmth and safety only Hugh could provide.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The week disappeared too quickly like dust in the wind. Hugh watched as Clara packed her trunk, the elixir she promised her mother safe in its packaging inside after a servant delivered it, and he regretted not asking for a longer affair.
Like an extra week would dull this craving in my heart.
No, his heart wasn’t involved.
It couldn’t be.
“You’re sure Hyde brought the correct palliative for your mother? I’d hate for you to be reprimanded for his mistake.” He didn’t know what to say to her, so he reverted to inane small talk.
“Yes, it’s the right one. Thank you again.” Clara turned to face him after closing her trunk, and worry cast a shadow over her flushed cheeks.
Was she already regretting their affair?
“You have the new leather gloves I bought you? You’re sure they fit alright?” He’d remembered her old ones with the hole in the finger and ordered a fresh pair to be delivered during her stay with him. Needed to ensure she was taken care of even in this small way.
A glimmer of humor appeared in her blue eyes. “Yes, they’re packed in my reticule for the trip—a perfect fit.”
“Good, good…” He paced the room, restlessness itching beneath his skin. This wasn’t how he envisioned their affair ending. The plan had been to rid her from his system, not strengthen his obsession.
Goddammit.
“Why did you agree to this arrangement, Clara?” The question fired into the air like buckshot, a desperate plea for…something. An answer to unravel the bond they shared? Some insight that would dampen his need? He couldn’t rightly say. “Tell me the truth. You took an enormous risk with your reputation. I understand your life at home isn’t perfect, but is it so bad to destroy any chance you may have at a future with a potential husband?”
“As I mentioned on our first night together, my future husband will be Lord Evanston, according to my parents. I doubt he’ll notice if I’m no longer a virgin. His priority is the same as my parents—to enlist a free nursemaid. That’s why I came to you. Why I’ve jumped wholeheartedly into this affair. This week and the memories we’ve made must sustain me for a long time.”
He remembered the deal her parents struck with Lord Evanston. Remembered everything she'd shared with him.
Clara shrugged. “Besides, it’s me who should question you. I’m your daughters’ friend, yet you took me into your bed anyway. We’ve avoided the subject all week, but since things are ending now and we seem to be sharing, why not put it all out in the open? Why risk their discovery of us?”
She was right. They'd avoided sensitive subjects like their families, keen to remain in their little bubble. He supposed the time had come to pop it with the pin of reality.
“Because I can’t—couldn’t—get you out of my head,” he admitted. “I’d hoped fucking you would rid you from my system.”
“And has it?” she asked, a note of hopefulness seeping into her tone.
But he couldn’t give her hope. He couldn’t marry her.
“Yes,” he lied and hated the crestfallen expression that swept over her face. “And it’s for the best. I know you loathe your future. Lord Evanston is old enough to be my father, but he could still give you children. You’d at least have some consolation. I can attest to their power to brighten one’s life.”
“I don’t want children.”
“You’re young. You’ll change your mind. I know I did, though two is enough for me at this age. Don’t resign yourself to a terrible future without considering the possible joys.”
“There will be no joy with Evanston, my lord,” she said coldly. “There hasn’t been any with my parents, and it won’t change with a marriage to their friend. And children won’t alter that fact either because I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else’s care. I want to be free. I thought you understood that after this week.”
Conflicting emotions warred within him. He did understand her—more than he’d care to admit. And the truth was he’d love to care for Clara himself, to relieve the burden of her parents and prevent a marriage to Evanston.
But what about Sarah and Mary? Would they understand?
And children… Clara said she didn’t want them, but what about a few years from now? While Hugh adored his daughters, most of his adult life had been spent raising them from babes to young women. Before meeting Clara, he’d been intent on living the rest of his life carefree, attachment-free—which meant no more babies.
