Chapter 22

Chapter 22

It was a blessing and a curse to be so very busy. Normally, Claire enjoyed working around the house or in her large garden. Anything that made the days pass more quickly had been a gift during her mourning period.

She supposed she was technically still supposed to be mourning the husband she had lost, but theirs had never been a love match. What they had was an understanding between two people who had found themselves in difficult positions in life.

There had been a mutual love of Eleanor and everything she did. No matter the stage of her life, both Claire and her late husband had been perfectly content to spend their days devoted to watching her grow and enjoying every phase of her education. Eleanor was a bright light in both of their lives.

Had Dorian stayed gone, Claire would have been content to enjoy long, lazy afternoons on the back porch swing. She would have missed the companionship of her late husband, but she would have managed. He was a good man and a lovely conversationalist. A friend, and nothing more.

Part of her wished he was here now, if only to help her sort out her own feelings about what had happened lately. He would have given her such perfect advice on how to approach Dorian again. It was time she had some closure, and every brief encounter he had with her only brought about more questions.

Eleanor ran ahead of her, weaving through the raised garden boxes with a lizard as her current prize. Every few steps, the lizard would fall from her hands and she would have to stop in her mission to stoop over and catch it once more. Her hair was a mess, her pale cheeks flushed from all of the running she was doing. And, like her mother, she was presently barefoot with grass and soil stains on her dress.

Perhaps another benefit of having the husband that she had was that he had never been overly concerned with her private appearance. In front of his congregation, naturally, it was of more importance to him. But here in their home? Things were unbuttoned and calm. Blissful.

Claire knew she should be focused more on ensuring there was still enough money in the accounts to guarantee the house would run efficiently for the years to come. But Dorian would not leave her mind.

There was something she needed to tell him, a secret she should not have kept for nearly as long as she had. Perhaps too many years had passed for her to make the confession now. Even if she ran into him once more and Dorian professed that he loved her, that he had always been in love with her, when she told him the truth, he might never be able to forgive her.

No, he deserved to know. Even if he hated her for the rest of her life, she needed to tell him.

She sat back on her haunches and wiped the sweat from her brow. Claire adjusted the wide brim of her hat to sit better on her head while undoing the lacing that kept it secured under her chin.

"Stay where I can see you, dear," Claire called after her daughter as Eleanor started to round the corner of the house. Her governess was never far away, but it made Claire more at ease to be able to see her.

"Mama! Look!" Eleanor called, instantly forgetting her mother's request and racing off around the side of the building.

Claire had no choice but to jump to her feet and race after her daughter to see what was the matter. It was likely another garden snake or, if she was lucky, something more cuddly like a bunny or a cat. Both were common enough. It was as if Eleanor simply attracted creatures of all kinds. It was second nature to her.

"You must not run so quickly!" Claire called after her, struggling somewhat to keep up.

"Mama! Come! Hurry! It is the horse man!" Eleanor called with a bubbled giggle.

A man? Eleanor did not sound afraid of a strange, unannounced man coming up onto their property, but Claire had always had far more reservations about such things. Though the moment she rounded the corner of the building and saw who it was, she understood.

He looked like something from a fantasy, riding up in his fine attire on his magnificent horse. Eleanor seemed to think so, too, as she ran toward him as fast as her legs could carry her, though her interest was likely more on the horse than the man himself. It was not as if her heart would skip beats because of Dorian in the way her mother's presently was.

"You kept your promise, my lord! I knew you would!" Eleanor giggled as she ran up to the horse, not seeming to notice the stern expression on Dorian's face as she turned her full attention to the horse. She placed a hand on the top of the horse's head and nuzzled the horse's muzzle with her own face. Eleanor produced a bit of carrot seemingly from nowhere and fed it to the stunning animal.

Eleanor took the reins from Dorian's gloved hands the moment he slipped off of the horse. Could he truly not even say hello to her daughter? He glossed over her as if she were not even there and just handed off the horse without another word? What was the matter with him?

She was no longer happy to see him. It no longer mattered the reason for his visit. It might not have bothered Eleanor to be cast aside in such a fashion, but it bothered Claire a great deal.

Claire motioned for Eleanor's governess, who hurried over to join them. A smaller, rounder woman with a kind-looking face, Claire had always appreciated her for she was devout and loyal. Above all, Eleanor adored her. Mostly because she loved running her ragged, but she adored her all the same.

"I shall take her to get some water, if that is all right?" the governess asked.

"Yes, of course. Thank you very much." Dorian answered.

The older woman easily lifted the reins from Eleanor's hands and bowed respectfully to the stranger before scooping Eleanor up into her free arms. The pair of them disappeared with Dorian's horse around the side of the house toward their modest stable before Claire could even fully process the state of the man in front of her.

Claire crossed her arms defensively over her chest while she stared at him. What right did he have to come to her home and be angry with her? She had not done anything wrong that he knew about. Nothing had happened. She had been very careful to avoid his space so that she did not cross some imaginary line. If anything, she was the one who ought to be angry at him for his lack of ability to control his monster of a sister.

Dorian was the one who had abandoned her and closed the door on their engagement, among so many other transgressions that she could lay at his feet—and yet she had been kind enough to refrain from doing so. She had allowed him into her bedroom and to wake with her in her bed.

She had been kind enough to allow that evening together to simply be what it was between them—private. She could have pulled a card from Dolores' book and attempted to trap him into a marriage that she did not know if he even wanted, but she had not.

Whatever reason has caused his face to look like that, she would not force herself to endure it here in such a public space. Claire gritted her teeth and turned sharply on her bare heel. She did not comment nor invite him inside behind her, but she knew he would follow her. Of course he would.

He could have made any number of efforts to reconnect with her over the years. He could have sent letters or come to call upon her, even once. He would have enjoyed her husband for the person he was, even if he were jealous of the relationship that she had with her late husband.

The warmth of her home wrapped around her. Modest, but well taken care of. A clergyman could not have the lavish sort of extravagance that he was no doubt used to. There would be no exotic paintings or statues from fancy places around the world.

She had never thought she would be bitter about such things. Yet now that he was actually standing here in the dining room of her home, she found that she was. She loathed that they had been parted from one another. All of the adventures that he had forced her to miss out on. All of the cold and lonely nights when she would lay awake wondering where he was and if he was sleeping alone as she was.

A private conversation was long overdue.

Yet standing here across from him with such a potent mixture of emotions swirling about inside of her, she almost wished they could simply skip the talking altogether. She wanted so desperately for Dorian to cross the room to her and sweep her up into his arms.

If only he would do like he would when they were younger and pepper kisses all over her face until the pair of them collapsed onto whatever surface was closest. It had always managed to cheer her up. Though the problems they had had all those years ago did not weigh quite so heavily as the ones they had now.

Claire feared if she moved a single muscle, she would surrender to the urge to show him exactly what he had given up on. No, she could not allow it. He had abandoned her. He had no idea how much she had had to struggle or the fight that she had had to endure for so many years.

She might not even still be here today were it not for her late husband—neither her nor Eleanor. If she had not married him, then she would have been ruined and condemned Eleanor to a life so desolate that she could hardly even fathom it.

Dorian was the first to break the uncomfortable silence between them.

"I had thought that when I arrived, the words would start pouring out of me," he confessed. "And yet, now I stand here in front of the person who is still the most important person in my life, and my tongue is still. I cannot seem to find the words."

Claire could put him out of his misery. She could offer platitudes or polite nothings, but she did not want to. With others, she might have made endless excuses for their transgressions against her, but not him. Never him. She said not a single word as she stood there, waiting and silently demanding an explanation.

"I suppose it would make the most sense to start at the beginning," Dorian said, though it seemed as if he were struggling for words. Not once could she recall him being the fidgety sort of man. Yet there he stood, twiddling his fingers against nothing as he tried to find a starting point for the conversation that he clearly was unsure if he wished to actually have it.

Claire chose to have pity on him and gestured to the nearest seats. She chose to sit in the chair across from him and lowered herself down into the seat slowly.

"The night of the party…" Dorian started and then brought himself up short as he took the seat across from her.

She could remember the party perfectly. The evening following their first night together was supposed to result in the pair of them entering society together. He was supposed to have announced their engagement officially to his family and the rest of the ton . Dorian had promised.

He had sworn he did not care what the others thought of him and that it meant they could finally be together in a real capacity. She had worn her finest dress as Dorian had covered her neckline with kisses and promises that soon she would have access to any dress and fabric that she could ever possibly wish. That soon, she would be his wife and everything would be better.

Dorian's father had called him to his office. She could remember thinking that he had entered the room as the man she loved and when he had left it, he was another man entirely.

It had all been downhill from there.

"I told you my father summoned me to his office. That much is true, mostly." Dorian scrubbed his hands down his face, clearly ashamed of the words that were leaving his lips. "But when I arrived to the office, Father was not there. Dolores had been seated behind his desk with a letter written in Father's hand and a ticket—passage on a boat leaving the very next morning. I was being sent overseas for six months, the letter had said."

Dorian paused to rummage into his pocket for a moment before producing a worn letter in a script she had not seen in such a very long time. Pain welled in her chest and nearly caused tears to form in her eyes. There had been a time when she had been a part of his family, even before the engagement. She had looked up to the late earl before all of this had happened.

"I kept it with me as a reminder of when my life changed. For many years, it was a reminder of my goals. The purpose of the trip was an effort to expand my worldview, in preparation for my future as the earl. I understood, but I was furious that he would make such a choice without even speaking to me.

Dolores explained it was because of that very temper I was exhibiting that I needed to take this trip. I thought six months would not be such a long time. But I did not wish to leave you."

Claire could only imagine how that viper of a woman would have tolerated that news in particular. Even just thinking about Dolores and all of the things she had done with her meddling hands over the years was enough to make Claire see red.

"Father arrived then and took his seat. Dolores had moved to stand behind his chair, her hand on the winged back of it. I remember thinking it was such an odd place for her to stand. It created such a strange visual." Dorian lifted his hand as he spoke, reliving the moment.

"I attempted to argue with Father. I explained to him that I had responsibilities here and did not wish to leave. I had connections to maintain and if I were to go on that trip, I would be breaking the oath that I had made to you."

Dorian waved a hand, mimicking the motion his father must have made on that day. "He would not hear a word of it. He said my oaths and promises would mean nothing if I fumbled my future away. If I could not stand steadfast and uphold my duties to the family first, then I had no right to start a family of my own.

Then he said if I was going to protest this, I must leave at once. He said he would have a carriage brought around, and if I was a real man, I would figure out how to land on my feet. If I did not, then I need not bother coming home at all."

Claire's focus dropped to the letter in her hand. The ink on the paper was so weathered from the years that it was hardly legible now. It was hard to listen to the missing piece of the puzzle. She had wondered so often what must have happened.

Even on her darker days, thinking it was because he had gotten access to her body and that must have somehow been all he wanted. Used her and cast her aside despite knowing it went against everything else she knew about him.

"I wrote you a letter right then and there. I took paper and father's pen and wrote to you, explaining everything. I laid out all of the details and asked you to wait for me. I said that as soon as the six months were over, I would return home to you and we would be married straight away."

Dorian's face became haunted by memories of the past, of frustration with himself or the situation. "I folded the letter and placed it in Dolores' hand. Something I now know was a grave mistake. You never even got that letter, did you?"

Claire shook her head as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away.

"To think that all of this time, I thought you were angry with me for having to wait. I thought you had spurned my affections or any number of other horrible things." Dorian's head hung low as he spoke.

"Then you married so quickly I had thought… I do not even wish to say what it was that I thought. I was heartbroken and angry for so very long. I remained out of London for as long as I possibly could just to ensure I did not have to see you."

Claire did not even know where to begin absorbing the information he had just given her. It was all a misunderstanding of massive proportions. "But you believed me indifferent? All of the time we spent together, Dorian, and you felt I would simply slip away into the night without so much as a word of goodbye to you?"

She felt betrayed, and that was the smallest of the emotions that currently overwhelmed her.

"Did you come looking for me? Did you attempt to say goodbye to me or did you simply take your sister's word for it? I understand that you could not come to me that very night, but you had years , Dorian, to ask why it was that I might have had to marry so quickly."

Claire could not seem to stop the rage from bubbling up inside of her. "If you believed me to be indifferent or ignoring your letters, you could not have used the years of knowledge of my character to have questioned behavior that was nothing like me?"

Dorian seemed to have nothing to say, but she could not tear her eyes from his.

Her own eyes narrowed bitterly as she spoke. Years of heartache and strife bled, unfiltered, into her words. "I thought you would have known me better than that."