Chapter Sixteen

Clara peered out over the fields and rolling hills of the surrounding countryside, contemplative and quiet as she, Silas and Violet rode to Lord Bairnsdale's home in Bedfordshire. It was half a day's journey from her childhood home, just outside the town of Kimberton and she was eager to see her parents while this far south.

She and Silas had been half expecting an invitation from the baron as Holly Smyth had decided to accept the elder man's wedding proposal, much to Clara's dismay. She wanted so much more for her friend—but now that the decision had been made, she would not pass judgement on it. Holly needed support, not condemnation. At least they would be able to spend the week-long hunt together, which would hopefully reassure Clara that the baron truly was as kind as Holly claimed.

Silas hadn't been particularly interested in attending, but he'd relented when Violet had insisted and Clara had encouraged it. He'd told Clara that he'd rarely seen his sister ask passionately for anything. He didn't know why she was so eager to attend, but he was curious enough to want to find out.

As the carriage gently tottered down the country lane, Clara felt the duke's eyes on her. She wasn't sure how or why she was always aware of when he was staring at her, but it had become second nature at this point. She kept her unfocused gaze out the window and wondered if her husband might soon relinquish his claim that he was incapable of loving her.

Clara had had her work cut out for her in that respect. Since Silas had confessed his inability to love nearly a month ago, she had been patiently working to demonstrate that her love was enough for the both of them. Silas and she were married, joined together forever and she took her vows quite seriously. More so than Cynthia.

Don't do that, she scolded herself silently. She had tried very hard not to think of Cynthia as the enemy—it wouldn't help anything, and it seemed unfair to judge the woman without hearing her side of the story—but it was hard to let go of the anger over how much she had hurt Silas.

She sighed quietly. Since that night, they had settled into a strange, comforting sort of dynamic. Silas hadn't kept his visits to strictly evening appearances anymore, having realized that trying to distance himself from her was futile. Clara and Silas had since returned to being more open with one another, as they had before their marriage. She often saw him during the day and they had even started to take rather long walks through the south fields, since Clara wasn't very proficient at riding yet. He had offered to teach her and even if she was rather nervous, she had agreed, secretly happy to be in his company for any reason.

During their walks, they had conversations about nearly everything. Clara explained in detail about her childhood—how she and her parents had lived very modestly up until her father became a success. It had been a strange transition from living frugally to extravagance, and to suddenly be thrusted into a different social circle, one that barely tolerated them because of their low birth rank. Above all, it had been lonely. It was why she was so protective of her friendship with Holly.

The two had been friends as children, long before either one of them knew about society and ranking. They had simply liked one another and had spent their youth running through fields and playing in streams together. When Holly's mother died, some time after losing her father, she was barely sixteen and had taken on the responsibilities of the entire household, as well as her two younger siblings. Without any prospects outside of her limited circle, having never been introduced to London society, Holly had focused her attention on maintaining her family home. It was a task that had proved increasingly difficult over the years. While Holly's life had become increasingly difficult, Clara's life had shifted as well, in a far opposite direction. And yet despite it all, they had maintained their friendship and loyalty to one another throughout the years.

Silas had listened intently to Clara every time she spoke about her youth. She had explained to him that she had always had a very good sense of who she was as a person, but the past few years had left her confused.

Silas in turn had divulged into his own upbringing. It had been, to his way of thinking, a fairly normal childhood. His parents were stern, but not cruel. Affection was rarely physical, even between his parents. His mother was more diplomatic than kind, often keeping a distance between herself and her children, maintaining the formality with which she had been raised. His father had been elderly when he was born, an important man with far too little time on his hands who had died at the age of seventy-five, just as Silas turned seventeen.

He had been close with the Trembley family having met Derek at Eton as boys. He had regularly visited Derek and had even come to appreciate Lord Trembley as a sort of surrogate father. Clara had felt sorry for the young man he had been, but Silas assured her that he had come through adolescence with only the usual bumps and scratches. And yet, he'd been lonely too. Not to the same extent perhaps…but lonely enough to throw himself into his relationship with Cynthia—to relish, at first, the way their lovemaking had been so intense, so all-consuming.

His lovemaking with Clara had certainly felt more intense since that day in the rain, but the most Silas seemed capable of was pinning her wrists above her head and even then, he was always exceedingly careful. When she tried to ask him about it, he only ever told her that he didn't wish to sully her mind with such depravities, but every once in a while, it seemed he couldn't help himself. Sometimes his fingers would dig into her hips, holding her exactly where he wanted her, or he would tell her to change positions, quickly, or else. Of course, there was never any repercussion if she was too slow or didn't obey. But it always made her pulse jump and she found herself curious what he might do if only he allowed himself. She was eager to learn more, even if Silas refused to teach her.

Besides their standstill, they found a content and peaceful sense in each other's company. Every day they grew closer, and every night, well, every night Clara could almost swear that he did love her, even if he refused to say it.

She let herself float back to the previous night. She and Silas had made love slowly, purposefully. Clara had been sure that she would become tired with the constant lovemaking, but it proved to be her favorite activity of the day and she often had to distract herself to focus on other tasks.

However, last night had been different. Silas had always made sure that she reached the pinnacle of pleasure before him, this time he had seemed especially intent. He'd penetrated her slow and fully, with his eyes on hers. She had felt exposed for some reason, more vulnerable and more naked than she ever had been before.

Neither spoke and when they reached orgasm—together no less—Clara had to turn away to hide the tears that unexpectedly stung her eyes. Even Silas, who was usually rather flirtatious afterwards, was quiet and contemplative.

When they woke that morning, all seemed to be in order again and they moved and spoke without distraction. But she hadn't been able to stop thinking about it.

"Nervous?" he asked as the carriage moved across a particularly bumpy section of road.

"No," she lied.

In truth, she was rather worried. This would be their first official coming out as husband and wife and she felt anxious. Violet's earnest request had distracted Clara from her fears however and when she inquired why her sister-in-law was so adamant on going, Clara had been sworn to secrecy before Violet had revealed the reason.

In the month since their run in the rain, Violet had gradually opened up to Clara. It was during that time that she had admitted to Clara that she had been madly in love with a man named David Lutz since last year. From what Violet had told Clara, the baron was a devoted patron of the arts, in particular writing, and had been sponsoring the young writer for some time.

Violet had met Mr. Lutz the previous summer when he was visiting a family friend in Bedfordshire. Mr. Lutz had asked to write her and they had been in correspondence ever since. According to Violet, he was terribly romantic, but was petrified of Silas. Violet knew Silas would never approve of a courtship since David was a novelist. He'd had some success in a serial series in the Times, but in all honesty, he was the penniless fifth son of a barrister with no option but to make his own way in the world. Nothing about him fit with what Silas expected from anyone seeking his sister's hand. But Violet was determined to have him and she hoped Clara would help her convince Silas.

"Clara will be splendid, I'm sure of it," Violet said with conviction, smiling at her. "Is this truly the first time you've been invited to a country house?"

Clara felt her cheeks flush.

"I'm afraid so, at least, to a baron's home. I hope you do not have any expectations of me, Violet. I've never been accused of having pristine social capability."

"You'll be brilliant," Silas said, leaning towards her.

The smile he gave her made her want to squirm. Instead, she pursed her lips and tried very hard not to appear pleased. She needed to talk about something else.

"Will all the Trembleys be in attendance?"

"I believe Fredrick and Alfred will be accompanying their mother. Derek has a previous engagement," Silas said. "Supposedly the baron was close with their uncle. I believe he may even be a cousin of Lady Trembley."

"Oh, is he?"

"I think so," Silas said, his brow furrowing for an instant. "I can't remember how I know that exactly."

The rest of the carriage ride was filled with happy chatter until they reached their final destination. The baron's home was set far back behind two very flat fields of wheat that appeared as if they were just about ready to be harvested. The golden sea of wheat, swaying gently against a blue sky made Clara smile. She had missed this part of England.

The house was a large Tudor-style brick manor. It was nearly three hundred years old and the dark, nearly black planks of lumber stood out against the red brick, making it a very visually interesting and beautiful building. Clara tried not to gawk at it as she was helped out of the carriage by Silas.

"Welcome to Kingston House, your graces," an elderly gentleman said, coming forward with a slight head nod.

The man was quite tall and rather frail looking. Clara wondered if she had ever seen a man so thin, noting that his clothes seemed to hang off his body. His kind blue eyes gazed at her with a sense of warmth. She smiled at him, but a part of her was still resistant to the idea that this man would be a good match for Holly.

"Thank you," Clara said with a curtsy.

"Miss Smyth has told me so much about you, your grace. She arrived little more than an hour ago. I'm so pleased that you could attend our humble hunt," he said with a nod, before turning to Silas. "And I heard you are an acquaintance of my nephew, your grace. Gavin is my brother's only son and the heir to this barony."

"Gavin rarely mentions that he's set to inherit a title," Silas said.

A shadow passed over the elder man's face. Clara was curious what seemed to bother the baron, but she kept her face blank.

"Yes, well, Gavin is rather preoccupied with his own gallivanting, isn't he?" He smiled, but Clara felt like he was speaking as if he were guessing at his nephew's activities. But the baron extended his arm behind him and changed the subject. "I'm sure your journey was long and you wish to settle in. Shall we?"

Clara pushed her speculations out of her mind as she took Silas's hand and was escorted into the house. After a brief tour of their rooms, the baron left Clara and Violet with Silas so that they might recover from their journey. Once they were put to rights, Clara sought out her sister-in-law and they headed down to the parlor where several guests were conversing.

Clara noticed the Trembley brothers right away and they each gave her a welcoming smile. Surprisingly, Fredrick was wearing a sling around his arm. Clara took a moment to wonder what had happened, but she was distracted when a familiar face peered into her view.

"Holly!" she exclaimed. She was wearing a peach colored gown, her curled hair adorned in pearl pins. "I'm so happy to see you."

"And I you," she said, turning to face Clara's sister-in-law. She curtsied. "How do you do, Lady Violet?"

"Very well, thank you," Violet said, her gaze falling back to Fredrick. "Miss Smyth, do you know what happened to Mr. Trembley's arm?"

"Well, yes, actually," Holly said, peering over her shoulder before returning her attention to Clara and Violet. "Supposedly, Mr. Trembley was racing his horse with several friends in London last week and fell from his horse when a carriage had turned a corner, spooking his steed. Thankfully he only dislocated his shoulder, but his mother has been incensed. He escorted her here to the baron's home for the hunting party as a way to make amends."

"Oh my," Clara said. "Thank goodness he is all right."

"I hear it's quite painful."

There were several other couples, fine ladies and seemingly unimpressed gentlemen who leaned in to whisper to one another as Clara and Violet came into the room. Clara tried to give the impression that she was equally as bored as everyone else, but her heart was pounding viciously. She was quite uncomfortable.

"Oh," Violet said softly, reaching for Clara's wrist as she turned towards her. "He is here."

"Who?"

"David Lutz," she whispered. "Oh heavens, I didn't expect to see him until dinner."

Clara glanced around Violet and saw a young man, possibly only twenty-five or twenty-six, with flaxen hair and an easy smile on his face as he stood in the doorway. He was handsome, Clara supposed, in the way all youthful girls thought a singular sort of man was handsome. He had a charming sort of face and dark, playful eyes that seemed hellbent on seeking out mischief. She could certainly see why Violet was so attracted to him.

Leaning towards Violet, she whispered, "I think he's searching for you."

Violet blanched.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly speak to him. Not after everything I've written to him."

"Chin up, it will be all right," Clara said hurriedly as the man approached. She gave him a bright smile and gently turned Violet around to face him.

"Clara, this is Mr. David Lutz. Mr. Lutz, this is my sister-in-law, Clara Winters, the Duchess of Combe."

"Your grace," he said with a deep bow. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he added, coming back up, his eyes set on Violet. "Lady Violet. It is wonderful to see you again."

"Y-yes," Violet stuttered.

He turned back to Clara.

"I'm so grateful to have been invited to the baron's hunt. I am anxious to meet Lady Violet's brother."

"Mr. Lutz…" Violet said with a slight shake of her head.

"Then it is fortunate that you would be invited to a party that my husband is attending," Clara said, her brow knit with confusion over Violet's uncharacteristic shyness. "Tell me, how are you acquainted with the baron?"

The young man's eyes flashed with excitement.

"The baron has sponsored my writing career for two years now. He's even been kind enough to mentor my work. He's a talented writer himself and knows nearly everyone in publishing." His cheer seemed to dissipate for a moment. "I hope I will be able to repay him for his kindness one day."

"I'm sure you will," Clara said, peering around the room. "I don't see the baron at the moment."

"No, I believe he and a few of the men have gone to see his latest acquisition."

"What is that?"

"A brewery building," Mr. Lutz said. "The baron finds himself enraptured by a new venture from time to time. Last year, he was fascinated by glass blowing. I'm not sure why, but he tends to obsess and buy a business outright—but then he bores of it just as quickly."

"He must be a well-versed man to have so many interests."

"He is, but just as fast as he falls in love, he falls out of it," he said smiling. "Still, his resale skills are unparalleled. He's always quite successful at relieving himself of those same businesses."

"Then may he find many more indeed," Clara said, matching the young man's smile, while something seemed to tickle at the back of her neck.

Mr. Lutz began speaking with Violet, but Clara barely heard their conversation as her smile dipped away and her gaze drifted down past the young man to the floor just behind him. It was the strangest feeling. Almost as if she could tell she was being watched.

She turned slightly, her eyes snapped back up to the parlor entryway when she saw him. Silas was watching her intently as Lord Bairnsdale explained something to him.

Clara felt her heart thud against her chest, a strange, fluttery feeling seemed to climb up into her throat as she glanced at her husband. His face was blank, but she couldn't help but feel pinned to the spot where she stood.

In the next minute, Silas approached her, leaving a slightly confused Lord Bairnsdale behind. Why should he appear so striking, Clara wondered as she pulled her shoulder back. He was so handsome and she was aware some might melt beneath his hard gaze, but she felt rather pleased to be the entire focus of his attention.

When he finally reached her, she nearly spoke when he did.

"Violet," Silas said, his tone unreadable.

Clara closed her mouth, suddenly aware of her sister-in-law at her side. Turning, she saw the pair leaning rather closely to one another. To Clara's surprise, Mr. Lutz was holding Violet's hand, palm up, and pointing at the creases with his forefinger. It was close to being improper.

Mr. Lutz dropped Violet's hand, and Clara felt momentarily unbalanced.

"Your grace," Mr. Lutz said with a bow. "I was just showing Lady Violet a palm reading trick I learned from a Romany woman in Austria when I was there this past spring. A most fascinating practice."

"I'm sure it is," Silas said, sounding as if he thought the exact opposite.

Neither man spoke and it was obvious Silas was dismissing the young man, but the worry on Violet's face prompted Clara to try and smooth things over between the two.

"Mr. Lutz was telling us about the baron's brewery. Apparently, it's right here, on the property," she said facing Silas. "Has he shown it to you?"

One of his black brows lifted.

"He has."

"I find it fascinating," Clara lied, turning to Violet. "Violet and I were wondering if we might be able to take a tour."

Silas tilted his head and looked back and forth between his wife and his sister.

"Is that so?"

"Oh yes." Violet nodded dramatically.

"I would be more than happy to show you the brewery," Mr. Lutz said, his smile dropping at the glare Silas gave him. "With your permission of course, your grace."

"I think the baron would be happy to give us a tour," Silas said as Violet's hopeful face turned sour. "Tomorrow."

"Of course," Mr. Lutz said, seemingly eager to be out of their company. "Ah, if you'll excuse me, I've something of importance to discuss with Mr. Trembley."

With that, the young man left. Violet turned to her brother, a picture of serene feminine composure.

"Why must you ruin everything?" she asked through smiling teeth.

"Curb your dramatics," Silas replied. "I didn't ruin anything."

"Didn't you? He probably thinks I'm a fool," she hissed back. She leaned toward Clara. "Come, Clara, lest we be berated for having a conversation."

Clara wasn't exactly sure why Violet seemed so put out by her brother, but she certainly couldn't choose between the two. To pick Violet would be a mark against Silas, and to choose Silas would lose her a trusted confidant in Violet.

With both of them staring at her, Clara was struck with a brilliant idea.

"You know," she said, hoping to distract the two from their disagreement. "I've always heard that plays are put on at these sorts of gatherings."

Both Silas and Violet gawked at Clara. She swallowed as Silas's brow creased. He shook his head, confused.

"Excuse me?" Silas asked.

"A play?" Violet repeated.

"That's what happens at big house parties like this, isn't it? I should very much like to, well, you know. Do all the things I've suspected these parties to pertain to," she said before turning to Violet. "And I'm sure a young author would take particular interest in the works of playwrights, no?"

Clara felt Silas's glare on her check, but she refused to acknowledge him. Neither sibling spoke for a moment, and Clara was sure they were debating on whether she sounded ridiculous, when Violet nodded slowly.

"A play. That is an idea. A romantic play," she added, challenging her brother. "And you and I will put it on, Clara."

"Of course," Clara replied, not terribly thrilled with the idea of speaking in front of everyone, but happy to distract her sister-in-law. "I'm sure the baron has a book or two of plays, considering Mr. Lutz's praise for the baron's taste."

"Yes, I shall go ask him," she said before departing.

Clara smiled as she watched Violet leave, happy to have avoided whatever it was that had been building.

"You're managing us," Silas said quietly at her side.

Clara turned to face him.

"You don't mind my handling, do you?" she asked, alluding to something else.

Silas grinned down at her.

"No, not at all," he said softly.

Clara felt a thrill go through her, feeling particularly excited about the coming days. Surely this would be a week to remember.