Chapter Thirteen

Silas was up early and out of the house to ride before the sun was even up. Shaken from the night before, he hadn't been able to sleep all night. The moment he heard the steady, deep breaths of Clara's slumber, he pulled away from her and got out of bed. He had sat in a chair facing the bed and stared at her sleeping form for most of the night.

Their coupling had rattled him in ways he hadn't anticipated. Silas had expected to find pleasure of course, but where he hadn't been surprised by their physical compatibility, he had been unexpectedly by the emotional connection he'd experienced. To lay with someone who he not only desired but held in such high regard—someone whose pleasure felt so precious and special to him—well, it felt wonderful and terrifying at the same time. It was all rather confusing.

They had moved in unison during the entire episode and a strange, deep feeling had bubbled up inside of him as he moved deeply within her. Silas had believed it was simply that he was reacting to the fact that Clara now belonged to him as any wife belonged to her husband, but this was different. A possessiveness he had so often beat down while he was with Cynthia had roared up in his chest the moment she said "I do" in the chapel. But while it was similar, it wasn't exactly the same.

With Cynthia, he always felt like he was straining to keep her, like she was always pulling against his hold, right on the verge of breaking free. But Clara wasn't like any sort of caged bird yearning to fly away. Not in his bed, nor in his home, nor in his life. She had seemed a little uneasy at first, and he could understand that. Greystone was likely the largest home she had ever been to and to suddenly be its mistress had to be a daunting prospect. Still, at the same time she seemed relaxed in his company, a detail that he found charming. She had pushed back against his body when his arm went around her waist and the tone of her voice when she said goodnight seemed pleased, as if she were happy to be just where she was.

It unnerved him to no end.

While Silas had longed for a comfortable marriage, void of emotion and desire, he couldn't shake a growing feeling for Clara. He tried to focus on the practical reasons why he had decided to marry her as he rode his horse across the fog covered fields that morning.

She was not a tittering miss or a lady keen on gaining a title. She was attractive, more so now than he had originally thought, though that was not necessarily a good thing—it could be a problem if he ever let himself grow infatuated with her. She had other qualities that he had never found attractive in the opposite sex and those were the reasons he needed to focus on.

But when she had said so softly goodnight, he felt a chip in his amour, like someone had cracked a hammer against a frozen pond.

Silas had been so careful to enter this union without any misconceptions or preconceived notions of love. He and Clara were to have a friendship first and foremost and he would willingly ignore all other feelings, but this creeping urge to go to her, to spend every minute he could with her, sent up a warning within him. If he wasn't careful, he might actually fall in love with her and that was something he absolutely could not do. He had promised himself that he would never allow himself to be at someone's disposal again.

As he rode well into the late morning, Silas couldn't shake the feeling that he was being sucked in. The edges of him seemed already gripped by her.

After his ride, Silas returned to the house. He climbed the stairs in hopes to find Clara in their bedchambers, only to discover them empty. Confused, he turned to search the house when out the window he saw the top of her head as well as that of a red head woman, moving about the maze. Frowning, he decided to catch his new bride and her friend by surprising them at the middle.

Silas was down the stairs, out the back terrace and in the gardens in a matter of minutes. He moved through the old hedge that he had memorized as a boy. It was a yew hedge, put in by his grandmother during the French revival period. He was able to reach the secret garden that laid just north of the center. Pausing, he strained to hear the feminine voices of Clara and her friend. It seemed that they had reached the fountain that sat in the center of the maze, unaware that a pergola, covered in wisteria and climbing rose, was the true prize.

He had barely reached the fountain when Clara's voice caught his ear.

"—I just don't think a marriage should start out like that," she said, causing him to stop in his tracks. "It's dreadful."

Cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach. It felt like every moment of anxiety he had ever experienced had been suddenly validated and his body tensed against the sinking feeling. What had caused her to be so against their match and so soon? Was it because of their wedding night? Surely not, and yet Silas couldn't help but worry he might have hurt her or caused her some sort of embarrassment or discomfort.

"It may not be what I hoped for as a girl, but I don't have many prospects," her companion spoke. "My parents left us little and I've supported Jasper and Katrina as long as I have only because I was able to sell off most of our livestock."

Silas's thoughts were slow to process that Clara hadn't been talking about him. A sickening wave of relief fell over him as he closed his eyes and swallowed back his anxiety.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and spied through the yew and saw Clara, sitting on a stone bench while her redheaded friend walked around, wringing her hands together. What were they talking about?

"There has to be another way," Clara continued. "You cannot marry that old man. He could be your grandfather. And besides, the terms of his proposal are strange. It's not how a marriage should start out."

"But it wouldn't be a proper marriage. Don't you understand?" her friend asked. "John—Lord Bairnsdale—is a gentle, old soul and he has always been kind to me and my family. I believe he is truly worried about our impending doom."

Bairnsdale? Silas's brow furrowed. How did he know that name? For some reason, it put him in mind of Gavin, but what was the connection? Silas tried to think. Didn't Gavin have an uncle who held some sort of title? A baron perhaps?

"Doom? Oh dear, Holly," Clara said sadly. "I didn't know it was that bad. Why didn't you tell me?"

"A fine friend I would be to complain about my misfortunes while you already had so much to worry about in London. I wouldn't have dreamed of burdening you with my problems."

"Is that not what friends are for?" Clara asked, obviously upset. "To tell one another each other's problems?"

"Clara, our lives have changed drastically these past few years. There's little reason for you to continue bothering with me, especially now that you're a duchess. If you wish to cut ties between us, I would not hold it against you."

"Holly Dora Smyth, how could you say such a thing?" Clara said. "I would never abandon you or our friendship, especially in your hour of need. Do you think so little of me?"

"Of course not—"

"Then I insist you stop talking nonsense and let me help."

"Help? How in the world could you help?"

"I'm not sure, but if there's one thing I know, it's that you absolutely can't marry Lord Bairnsdale."

"Can't I? I have no other prospects, no money and two siblings to take care of, Clara. If a marriage would secure us a future, even if only for a few more years, then I'm inclined to take it."

Clara frowned, displeased with her friend's conclusion.

"And so, this ball you've invited us to, in a few months. It is to announce your engagement?" she asked sadly.

"It will be, if I accept his proposal."

"And there's nothing I can do or say for you to change your mind?"

"No."

Clara's next words sounded discontent. "I wish you would reconsider my help. Silas has agreed to allow me full control of my dowry. I could lend you some money—"

"I couldn't let you do that. Besides, John is not some lecherous old man. He is gentle and sweet and had repeatedly assured me that there would be no sort of bedroom dalliances between us."

"He could change his mind when the ink is dry."

"I'm not exactly his type, dear," she said, but Clara didn't seem to catch her meaning. "But tell me of your duke. Is he truly pleasant beneath that cold fa?ade? How are you feeling now that you are a duchess?"

Silas's brow quirked up, very interested in this turn the conversation had taken.

"He is quite different from the sort of man I always thought I would marry," she said as he strained to hear. "I always assumed I would be madly in love with my husband when I married."

"Peers can rarely claim to be in love with their spouses, my dear. You are aware of that."

"Yes, of course," Clara said. "It's just a silly notion I had. I'm sure all young ladies do. But that's not to say I'm displeased to be his wife. Not at all. In fact, the duke and I have found an amiable friendship." She paused, giving Silas a moment to conclude that he didn't completely enjoy having their relationship referred to as amiable. Even though he had always wanted just that. "I just fear that I won't be enough. I can't quite believe that I'm a duchess. Me. Clara Woodvine."

"Lady Clara Winters now, and yes, it is strange. You used to run around the village barefoot. And that was only last summer."

They laughed and Silas smiled to himself at the vision of Clara, running through a field barefoot. Surely, she wouldn't do so now, but it was an enticing image to imagine.

"I'm sure the duke's taste can be trusted," her friend continued. "He picked you, didn't he?"

"He did," Clara said, her tone suggesting otherwise. "But perhaps that's it. Perhaps he picked me because I'm so very the opposite of what I should be. Of what a duchess should be."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he doesn't want to repeat the tribulations of his previous marriage," Clara said.

It irked Silas that she would speak about him and his past to someone but it wasn't like the difficulties of his previous marriage were a secret. And anyway, he was the one eavesdropping. If he didn't wish to hear people's opinions, he could simply walk away.

Instead, he took a step closer.

"You said that he spoke of friendship, Clara. That's more than most people have. Especially in these grand marriages that involve peers."

"Yes, I know. And I knew that there wasn't any sort of romantic love between us when I accepted his proposal, but…" Clara paused and Silas was eager to know what she was about to say.

"But what?"

"I don't know." Her voice was soft and somewhat hopeless. It made Silas feel uncertain, but then in the next moment she seemed to recover. "This is a dizzying maze. Perhaps we should ring the bell and have one of the maids come to rescue us."

Silas felt insecure at Clara's answer, but he wouldn't retreat. Instead, he coughed loudly and took several loud steps as he came into the clearing, revealing himself to the two ladies.

Clara's friend Holly went wide eyed at his approach and he wondered if she was rather scared of him, given the way her eyes shifted downward. Clara turned around and he saw genuine surprise, in her curious grey-green eyes.

"I saw you lost your way from the house," he said, nodding toward the windows high above them. "I thought the chivalrous thing to do would be to rescue you."

"Thank you, Your Grace," the redhead said. "We have been lost for some time."

"We were finding our way through," Clara said. "I believe there is a secret to this maze."

"A secret?" he repeated, looking down at her. "That wouldn't be very sporting, now, would it?"

"No, I suppose not," she said, though she sounded unconvinced. "Very well, lead the way."

He nodded and turned.

"Follow me," he said.

He knew the maze had a fairly simple exit from that point, but he made a point to make a wrong turn here and there, feigning confusion. Clara's companion seemed worried, but the inquisitive stare Clara gave him proved that he wasn't fooling her and he wondered what it would take to trick his clever little wife.

His wife. The words gave his heart pause as he continued out of the maze and up to the house. He wanted very much to ignore the feeling of possessiveness that enveloped him, knowing that it had been the exact reason Cynthia had abandoned him. His need to be in control, to possess had been his undoing and while Clara was her exact opposite in every way, he doubted very much that she would allow his boorish, jealous behavior to manifest.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the feelings away and turned back to wait.

"Do you have plans to go to London this season, Miss Smyth?" he asked, trying to be conversational.

"Oh, no, your grace, I couldn't possibly attend this year's season." She paused and gave Clara a pointed glance. "Next year perhaps. My sister will eventually make her debut, though not for another year or so."

"Well, if you ever require any assistance, don't hesitate to ask," he said. "I am aware what you mean to my wife." He paused, having not wished to say wife in conversation and certainly not out loud, fearing his own reaction. "We should be very happy to perhaps sponsor your siblings, if they are so inclined to accept it."

"Oh! That is very kind of you, your grace," Holly spoke, her eyes lighting up. "I can't imagine a more generous offer."

"It would be no trouble," he said, noting the expression in Clara's eyes. She stared at him with a calculating glare. "If you'll excuse me."

"Yes of course," Holly said.

"Actually, I had something rather important to discuss with you," Clara said loudly, taking a step towards him. "I'll be right along, Holly."

The redhead nodded and disappeared up the stone steps that led up into the house. Silas did not move, only watched as Clara turned around to face him. He wondered if she would be pleased with his offer.

"That truly was a generous proposal," she said, her tone emotionless.

"Was it?" he asked, feigning a casual air.

"Yes, especially considering Holly is planning to marry this year." Clara squinted her eyes. "A sponsorship from someone like you could give her a reason to reconsider."

Silas suspected that she believed he had overheard the conversation. He had, but he wasn't going to let her know it.

"Well, I wouldn't want to come between her and a marriage prospect, especially if she is fond of the young man."

Clara took a step towards him.

"You know very well he isn't a young man," she said softly. "You were listening."

"Are you accusing me of eavesdropping?"

"I am."

"In my own garden?" he countered. "It's hardly the place for a secret conversation. Anyone could have happened upon you."

Clara smirked at his haughty answer.

"So, you were listening?"

"To admit to such a thing would call into question my character."

She took another step and suddenly there was very little room between them. He wasn't the type of man to be cowed by a female, but Silas couldn't deny that his body responded to her closeness. Clara seemed completely unaware of her effect on him—or the proper amount of distance to maintain when speaking with someone. She was wholly unfazed by societal norms.

"I would never question your character, sir," she said, her eyes full of gentle teasing. "A man who won a wife."

"I did win," he said huskily. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief. It both intrigued and worried him, though he knew not why. Without thinking, he raised his hands to her arms to gently stroke her. "How do you feel? After last night, I mean."

A blush touched her cheeks but she smiled.

"Very well," she said, her tone soft. "And you?"

"There's no need to worry about me. It was new for you."

"It was new for you too, Silas. We had never slept together before."

He cocked his head.

"You're right. In any case, I feel very well too."

Her smile brightened.

"Good," she said, seeming happy with his response. "I'm glad."

Silas felt pleased that she should be so satisfied and in an instant of sheer joy, he leaned down and kissed her. For years, Silas had kissed women with the single thought of seduction, but this was something else. This was simply a desire to show her that he was pleased. The beat of his heart seemed suddenly more pronounced as Clara leaned into him, kissing him back with unconcealed enthusiasm.

He pulled back for a moment, mindful not to lose himself to his desires out in the open, particularly when they were hosting so many guests. But all the same, he noted the heightened color of her cheeks, her swollen lips with decided satisfaction.

"Perhaps we should go inside," he suggested prudently.

"We could," she said coyly. "Or we could take a stroll in the maze?"

Her innocent prodding gave him pause. While he was more than willing to continue their rendezvous, the strength of his reaction to her was concerning. His previous relationship had been based off of physical feelings and he had intended to avoid that in his second marriage.

He hadn't considered that he would find himself so constantly excited by her. Hopefully it would wane over the next several weeks as the novelty wore off…but a nagging feeling told him that his reaction to Clara might be permanent. If that was the case, he would most likely have to put some distance between them, if only to preserve his control of the situation. It wouldn't do to fall in love with Clara, not when she deserved so much more than the shattered pieces of a broken heart that were all he had to offer.

He moved her back a fraction.

"Perhaps tonight…" he said. He needed to control himself. "…we should tend to our guests."

"Oh. Of course," she agreed, sounding disappointed.

He nodded and moved around her, convinced that it was the right choice. This would surely prove to be a different sort of marriage than before. He would simply have to lead by example.

However difficult that might be.