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CHAPTERSIX
Clara pressed a hand to her stomach as the carriage slowed its roll. They’d finally arrived.
The front door burst open, the new Earl of Kinross, Aslin, striding out onto the landing. His dark hair waved perfectly back from his forehead, his brown eyes twinkled in the fading sunlight of the day.
He strode down the steps, looking every inch the man of the manor as a line of servants filed behind him. But Clara’s heart did not skip a beat this time. Her pulse did quicken, but rather than the response being a product of excitement, her muscles seemed to quiver in…dread?
That couldn’t be. Perhaps she was just worn out from the journey. She drew in a steadying gulp of air as she let the curtain slide from her fingers.
The carriage stopped and the footman opened the door, placing the steps for the occupants to climb down.
“That’s Kinross?” Mr. Fitzroy mumbled, his voice sounding both skeptical and slightly irritated.
“Yes,” she answered, simply trying to swallow down her nerves. Had she really thought Kinross the answer to her future? Did she still?
Wyatt exited the carriage, followed by Mr. Fitzroy. Her stomach beat with butterflies as Wyatt handed Priscilla out, helping her down the steps.
In slow motion, she moved toward the door, a lump forming in her throat. And then Mr. Fitzroy reached for her hand. When Clara slipped her fingers into his, the world seemed to calm, or at least her stomach did. She let out a breath, her fears quieting as their eyes met.
Everything and everyone else melted away.
For a moment she forgot about her mother, her worry, Aslin, the future. His eyes were warm and safe and yet so very…breathtaking.
“Angel!” Kinross boomed from his place. “You’re finally here.”
“Aslin,” she replied, his old name rolling off her tongue as the deep dread settled over her again like a shroud. She held Mr. Fitzroy’s hand still, feeling as though he once again tethered her as some great wind threatened to blow her away.
“It’s Kinross now,” he answered, taking a step toward her. Before she knew it, he’d whisked her from Mr. Fitzroy and held both her hands in his. “I knew you’d come. You’ve always been a good girl.” Then he gave her a large grin. “Woman now.”
A flush colored her cheeks. The conversation felt very familiar, considering the audience. There were servants and her friends and…Mr. Fitzroy. “Indeed. I am.”
“And you’ve traveled all this way to be with me during this difficult time,” he said in a rush, pulling her closer. “You’re a true blessing. An angel. My Angel.”
She gasped at the public declaration he’d just made, but he only winked, releasing her hands. Introductions were made; Aslin, now Kinross, greeted Wyatt and Priscilla.
Then Wyatt turned to Mr. Fitzroy. “And this is my lifelong friend, Mister Fitzroy.”
Kinross gave him a nod of acknowledgment. “Come. All of you. Come inside.”
The group made their way in, Clara taking Kinross’s offered arm. She had to get used to the new name.
He turned back to Wyatt. “Thank you for making certain that Miss Melby arrived safely. It means so much to me that she could come.”
Wyatt gave a single nod, but she heard Mr. Fitzroy clear his throat. She partially turned back and could have sworn she heard him mumble, “Damned odd, inviting half the country to attend.”
Clara bit her lip. While several guests did seem to be about, it wasn’t half the country. And large funerals were a point of pride amongst her class. She looked at Kinross. “It was kind of you to invite Lord and Lady Ware.”
“I wasn’t being kind,” he answered with a smile. “I’d read of their marriage in the paper and I know you and Lady Ware are close. With your mother’s illness, I assumed you’d need an escort.”
He knew of her mother’s illness?
Of course, her brother had likely told him. But he’d not written to her family to offer his condolences? Had he been in London? Could he have called?
“Who else is here?” she asked, sliding her glance to Mr. Fitzroy again. He’d surely want to know these details and she’d help him if it meant keeping everyone safe.
“Lord and Lady Hardgrove. The Kensingtons. Your brother arrived in the very early hours of the morning. He traveled all night. Lord Welter and Lord Shipley.” He led them into a sitting room where a tray of food was quickly brought for them. “I’ll send you all to your repose soon enough, but I wanted to tell you that the burial will be tomorrow. I can’t delay the deed any longer.”
He raked a hand through his hair and for the first time since they’d arrived, Clara saw the tension that pulled at his broad shoulders. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she murmured, standing.
