Chapter Twenty-One

Clara was hard pressed to keep her temper in check. The sheer jealousy that had torn through her when she peered behind the makeshift curtain to see Silas sitting next to Cynthia had been all consuming. Although she knew it was beneath a duchess to feel anything so strongly, she couldn't help it. Clara was a human being first and foremost, and she was madly in love with her husband, a man who refused to love her back.

Feeling rather sorry for herself, she was surprised when she was approached by Fredrick Trembley to dance. While he was easy with conversation, Clara couldn't help but notice that he was constantly peering over at Violet who was waiting against the far wall. Several yards away, Mr. Lutz stood with the baron and two other gentlemen, seemingly deep in conversation. It was obvious that Violet wished for Mr. Lutz to tear himself away and ask her to dance, but the young man seemed too engrossed to notice her.

"Mr. Trembley," Clara said, nearly halfway through their dance. "Do you think you would be so kind as to ask my sister-in-law to dance?"

Fredrick's eyes snapped to hers.

"Pardon?"

"I know it's uncouth of me to ask and I pray you won't ever tell her, but Violet has been rather gloomy these last few days and I do wish she would smile. I think a dance with you would suit her very well."

His brow furrowed.

"Lady Violet doesn't quite like me, your grace."

"Oh, but she does," Clara lied. "She's said that she's never so challenged as when you are in the room. While it might sound like a complaint, I can assure you, Violet is bored with being so often appeased. To be challenged by anyone is a joy for her to experience."

"Is that so?" he asked, his eyes searching for Violet again.

When the dance ended, Clara curtsied her thanks and went to find the refreshments while Fredrick made his way to Violet. After an exchange of words, a visibly annoyed Violet followed Fredrick onto the dance floor. Holly was being led to the dance floor by some officer who Clara hadn't had the pleasure of meeting, as the baron looked on cheerfully. She watched them as her mind began to wander absently to Silas—and from there to Cynthia.

Clara was aware that Silas was worried that she would be approached by the former duchess, but so far, she hadn't been bothered by her since their initial meeting. She sensed that it would be dangerous to fall into a false sense of security when it came to that woman, but she did not wish to spend all her time worrying about a potential meeting, either. That seemed like it would be giving Cynthia far too much sway over her mind.

Thankfully she had her share of distractions. Holly's presence was reassuring, and since the dance had just ended, Clara started to move around the room, searching for her friend. Unfortunately, she was stalled in her search for several minutes when the baron introduced her to an older woman, the Viscountess of Sunderland. Apparently, she was an old friend of the dowager countess and was eager for Clara to send her mother-in-law her regards.

Once Clara was able to pull herself away from the conversation, she gazed across the ballroom to see if she could find Holly, only she was nowhere to be found. Frowning slightly, she made her way across the ballroom, ready to search the hallway—but she paused when she overheard a barely familiar male voice speaking.

"…and I'm sure I do not know where Miss Violet has disappeared to, though I did see her with that Fredrick Trembley character not too long ago."

Upset by the implications of the man's words, Clara turned around and spotted Lord Valle. In a moment of sheer madness and indignation, she approached the man. Holding out her hand to him, he stopped speaking mid-sentence as his eyes caught on her.

"Your grace?" he asked, sounding confused.

"It is your turn to dance, Lord Valle," she said smoothly. "I have you written down twice on my card and I shan't be disappointed."

Both knew he had never asked her for a dance, and that she certainly wouldn't have permitted him one if he had, but to say no in front of these people would be shocking. He was a gentleman and couldn't actively cut her. He extended his hand.

She hesitated to meet his eyes until they reached the dance floor. When the music started, she began her questioning.

"What do you think you were doing? Are you trying to cause some sort of scandal for Violet and Fredrick?"

His eyes snapped to hers.

"Of course not. I was merely mentioning that I haven't seen either of them for nearly a half hour."

Clara's mouth set in a thin line. She leaned forward.

"I don't know what you've got planned for my sister-in-law, but I promise you, Lord Valle, should anything untoward happen to Violet, you will incur the wrath of my husband. While most men might be able to forgive those who work against their families, I assure you, the duke shall neither forgive or forget."

Lord Valle swallowed visibly, the color draining from his cheeks.

"It wasn't my idea," he whispered back as they danced. "Cynthia put me up to it."

"Whatever for?"

"Why does she do anything?" he hissed, more to himself than to her. "She's a harbinger of chaos. If I was in a better position I might…"

He shook his head and Clara's brow lifted. It was surprising to hear the young lord's critique of his fiancée. He seemed rather put out by Cynthia's meddling.

"Can you tell me what her plan is, so that we might undo it?"

He shifted uncomfortably, but after a moment, Lord Valle nodded.

"Cynthia wanted me to lock Lady Violet away with Mr. Lutz. Apparently, she learned that your sister-in-law has feelings for the man."

That had been true at the time of their arrival, but in the days since, Mr. Lutz had been far too busy conversing about a trip to America or something of the sort to acknowledge Violet. In response, Violet's affection for the writer seemed to have cooled.

Turning to search the room, Clara caught sight of Mr. Lutz, flanked by two elderly gentlemen. He seemed to be deep in conversation with them. Clara frowned.

"Mr. Lutz is over there."

"Yes, I know," Lord Valle said. "But Cynthia wasn't particularly worried about who Violet was locked up with, just that she was locked up."

Clara looked at him.

"Who is she with?" she asked quietly.

"Mr. Trembley," he said. "I didn't want to do it, but she threatened… I mean, she insisted."

Clara was surprised to find herself feeling sorry for Cynthia's fiancé. What threat could she have used against this man?

"You must find them and set things right, Lord Valle. My husband will be incensed if he discovers your fiancée's plot."

"She's with him," he said. "It was her idea to cause a distraction so that she might try to… to revisit her relationship with the duke."

Though Clara felt a sudden stabbing feeling in her heart, she tried to ignore it. If Silas had been speaking the truth—and she hoped he had—he wouldn't fall victim to her feminine wiles.

"Thank you for telling me. And please hurry," she said as the music came to an end. She curtsied as he bowed and nearly went their separate ways when Clara spoke. "And Lord Valle?"

"Yes?"

"I think, for the sake of your health, you should be gone from here within the hour. And perhaps you should consider going alone."

A sad shadow passed over his eyes.

"Always."

"No," she said, taking a step towards him. "I only think to preserve you from my husband's wrath, but when he learns that you helped… well, I daresay you'll always be welcome to Greystone." She nodded. "If Violet's reputation remains intact, that is."

A hopeful smile shone on the young lord's face before he turned to leave the room. Clara was now on a mission to find Silas.

Hurrying from the ballroom, Clara first searched the parlor then the card room, making several excuses as she was cornered and nearly roped into conversation. After searching the library and even the billiards room, Clara had begun to worry that they had gone somewhere out in the gardens when she saw the baron's private office. Deciding just to peer into the room before heading to the back terrace, Clara pushed open the door.

There, on the other side of the room, she saw Silas's back facing her, with long, delicate arms wrapped around him at the waist.

A ringing sound echoed in her ears as her cheeks warmed. Clara had always thought herself a level headed woman, she had never felt so dejected, nor so furious, in her entire life. Even when she was being gambled away by Dilworth, she had never felt lower than she did at that moment. The man she loved, embraced by that wicked woman, a woman he had once loved. It was almost too much.

Thankfully, Silas seemed eager to have Cynthia off of him and pulled at her hands, stepping back as he did.

"Cynthia, stop it."

"Don't you remember it, Silas? How painfully wonderful it was? How terribly gutting it was between us?" Her words caused Clara to feel ill. "It was the most satisfying feeling in both of our lives."

"No—"

"Ah-hem."

Clara was sure that her shoulders were straight and her chin was high when she made the throaty little noise that called both of their attentions away from one another. Silas pulled away from Cynthia's desperate grasp, causing her to stumble slightly. He walked purposefully towards his wife.

"Clara—"

"Please, Silas," Clara struggled to say, her tone shaky. "We don't have time. You have to find Violet."

Silas tilted his head, unsure.

"Excuse me?"

"Have the little love birds been caught yet?" Cynthia's voice sounded from behind him.

Clara ignored her, focusing instead on her husband.

"Lord Valle told me that he locked Violet and Fredrick away. I'm not sure where but he went to undo it. I'm worried that her reputation is at risk." Clara nodded at Cynthia, causing Silas to turn around. "Lord Valle said it was her idea and that she somehow forced his hand to commit it."

"How dare he say that," Cynthia hissed. "I should turn him out for being such a weakling."

"What game are you playing at?" Silas bellowed at Cynthia, who seemed startled by his tone. "Violet has never done anything except support you, even when you left."

"It's just a little fun, Silas," she said, her brow furrowing. "We used to have such fun together."

"Stay the hell away from me and my family," he thundered.

Clara's hand went to his bicep and stilled his rage. The violent jealousy that shone in Cynthia's eyes made Clara curious.

"There's no time for that. Find them, Silas," Clara said earnestly.

With one last disgusted look at Cynthia, he tore from the room. Clara turned to follow him, eager to be away from this woman, but Cynthia's voice stopped her.

"He'll eventually come back, you know," she said, her shrill tone filled with bitterness. "Silas and I are meant for one another. We don't belong with anyone else. We are one and the same, if you will. He may think he can live without the pain, but he's wrong. It's an addiction, and no sweet kisses from you or any other woman can block it out. It's too delicious to stay away from. When he realizes you can't give him what he wants, he'll come back to me."

Clara turned slowly to face the woman she had once believed was her rival. Rival would be the word, if she felt like she compared to her at all, but she didn't. Clara would always be happy because she was pleased with herself. Cynthia would never be content because she couldn't bear to be at peace with anyone, including herself.

It almost made Clara feel sorry for what she was about to do.

Almost.

She watched a smug smile appear on Cynthia's lips as Clara walked towards her.

"What could he possibly see in someone like—" SMACK. "AHH!"

Clara shook out her hand, the sting biting her palm. Never in her life had she ever struck someone and she was surprised by how much it hurt.

"You stupid cow!" Cynthia screamed through the hand she held against her face.

"Stay away from my husband," Clara warned. "I am not as refined as other ladies of my position, but do not mistake my lack of polish for a lack of conviction. I may not know how to play clever games, but I will not tolerate threats to my family." Cynthia seethed at her as Clara rolled her shoulders back. She took a deep breath and continued. "Do not cross me, Cynthia. Silas does not belong to you anymore. Do you understand?"

"You stupid—"

"If you try to hurt anyone I care about again, I will not hesitate to use every bit of my position and power to see that you never step foot in England again. From what I understand, your situation here is already quite precarious. I've no doubt you were hoping to marry Lord Valle to try and repair your reputation. If you were set on that plan, I suggest you leave and chase after him before he gets away." She took a step towards Cynthia, who took a step back. "Do you understand me?" Clara said slowly.

It was evident that she wanted to argue, but Clara's words were not hollow. It was apparent that Cynthia would not be welcomed into the homes of any members of the peerage so long as she held the stigma of her divorce. Even if she did manage to marry Lord Valle, she would be shunned if Clara wished her to be. In all honesty, Clara was in a very powerful position.

Realization seemed to break over Cynthia, and defeat immediately began to seep through her. After a moment of silence, she nodded.

"Yes. Yes, just leave me alone."

"I plan to," Clara said, turning on her heel as she left the room.

Once she was in the hallway, Clara let guilt wash over her. Never in her entire life had she ever sunk so low as to harm another person through physical violence. In fact, she had often thought those who acted out and claimed to be controlled by their baser emotions were foolish. Reprehensible, even.

Lord forgive her.

She would be lying if she didn't admit a small part of her found a bit of satisfaction in knocking Cynthia off her proverbial high horse. It was an instance she hoped never to repeat or return to, but she also knew that she would not hesitate if she found Cynthia lurking about her family again.

All the sense of rightful justice she felt in putting Cynthia in her place did not take away from the very real pain that Silas seemed unwilling to love her. Perhaps he had been right all along. Perhaps their marriage was one of friendship and nothing more.

When she reached her rooms, she found Silas and a distraught Violet, who was weeping openly.

"Goodness, what's going on here?" Clara asked.

"We're leaving," Silas said, his tone gruff. "Now."

"Tonight? While the ball is taking place?"

"Yes," he spoke. Violet whimpered and Silas gave her a furious expression. "Not a word out of you."

"You're a brute!" Violet yelled.

Clara gave her husband an uneasy glance.

"Silas, you didn't hurt anyone, did you?"

"Yes, he did!" Violet hurriedly exclaimed as maids and manservants moved about them. "He nearly murdered Fredrick Trembley."

"Fredrick?" Clara repeated, her face crumbling into confusion. "Why on earth would you have done that?"

"Care to share?" Silas asked his sister sarcastically as a bright red stained her cheeks. "No? Well, then, it falls to me to tell her that that bastard Fredrick Trembley had his hands up your—"

"Oh, stop it! Stop!" Violet shouted, putting her hands to her ears. "Don't say it!"

"You can't even talk about it! What makes you think you'd even be ready to do… that?" he said, seemingly stumbling over his words. Clara saw an embarrassed flush come to his cheeks. It appeared Silas was less than eager to talk about his sister's situation. "Besides it was a godsend that I got to you before that roving pack of gossip mongers found you," he said, turning back to Clara. "Did you know Valle sent out a damn search party for them?"

"I wish they had found me!" Violet snapped, which caused her brother to stop what he was doing and come up to her. "It wouldn't have been nearly as mortifying."

Clara took several steps forward and placed both hands up between them.

"Violet, I'm sure whatever embarrassment you've endured here tonight shall not live forever, and whatever has been ruined can be mended. Your brother was worried about you, and I know you do not hate him." She took a breath. "Now, please make sure all your things are gathered from your room and meet us downstairs. Promptly."

Violet gave Clara a small nod and ran back to her room. When Clara turned to face Silas, he seemed far too distracted to discuss what had transpired between him and Cynthia, although from the words he spoke next, it was clear she was at the forefront of his mind.

"That vile snake of a woman," he cursed, running his hand through his hair. "To go after Violet that way. I should strangle her."

"Cynthia won't be an issue any longer," Clara said evenly, as she went behind the silk screen to change into her travel dress. "In fact, I think she may leave the country again as Lord Valle will not have her."

"Not an issue?" Silas repeated, coming behind the screen. "How?"

Clara snapped her dress tightly.

"Silas, please."

"What do you mean she won't be an issue?"

Clara's cheeks flared hot.

"We had words," she said, avoiding his eyes. "She threatened you."

"Did she?" he asked, unimpressed. "Empty threats, I assure you. She has no sway over me."

"No, but it seems that was enough for me to do something," Clara admitted. "I slapped her."

Silence followed for a long moment before Clara looked up. Silas was staring at her, dumbfounded.

"You what?"

"I slapped her," Clara repeated, shame bubbling within her. "I'm not proud of it."

Clara held her breath, worried about how he might react.

"You slapped her?" he said, the words seemingly too hard for him to comprehend. He reached for her. "In the face?"

"Yes, Silas, in the face," she said, pushing him away so that she could finish dressing.

"Because she threatened me?"

"Yes."

"What did she say?"

"It's hardly worth repeating," Clara said, putting her arms through the sleeves of her travel dress.

"But—"

"Please, Silas, I just wish to be away from this place." She paused, her heart aching for some reason. "Please."

A cloud of worry passed over Silas's face before he nodded.

"Yes. Of course."

Within the hour, Silas, Violet and Clara were packed away in a silent carriage as it pulled away from the baron's home. Uncomfortable and unsure, it seemed that no one wished to speak about the events that had transpired at Bairnsdale's home.

Clara felt at odds the whole ride home. Unable to sleep, she spent the night replaying the entirety of their stay at the baron's and wondering if she could have done something differently. Guilt seemed to be her only companion, for every time she tried to make eye contact with either Violet or Silas, they avoided her eyes. Perhaps Violet was too preoccupied with her own worries, but that Silas should be ignoring her carved at her heart.

Doubt like she had never known crept into her veins as the night wore on. Silas was probably ashamed that she had struck someone. It wasn't something a lady in her position should ever do. There was no reason for her to stoop to such behavior. Surely, he was aghast at her conduct.

Falling in and out of sleep, Clara was tormented with dreams of Silas and Cynthia, locked in one another's arms. Her words filtered through Clara's mind. When they finally reached the halfway point to Greystone late the next morning, stopping to refresh themselves at an inn called the Fox and Horn, Clara could barely move her stiff body.

Silas left the carriage silently, while Clara and Violet waited patiently for him to return. After only moments, he returned and escorted both women inside the inn.

Upon entering the room, Clara saw a hip bath had been prepared and while she desperately wanted to wash herself, she wasn't eager to do so in front of Silas. Thankfully, he left her alone, escorting Violet to her own room.

Tired and miserable, Clara slowly undid the front buttons of her travel gown, which was dusty and dirty from the tavern's yard. She quickly removed the rest of her clothes and dropped herself into the hip bath. Taking a sliver of soap, she lathered a piece of cloth and scrubbed herself clean. When she was done, she quickly dressed in a chemise, lifted the covers, and dropped into the bed.

Clara closed her eyes, hoping to get some sleep before they continued their journey.