Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Claire should not have come.

It felt as if her skin was suddenly too tight for her bones. It was an impossible thing to know exactly the moment that Dorian noticed her. But she did. She could feel his gaze upon her as if it were a physical embrace.

He had grown. Was that possible? Perhaps it was simply that he had filled out with muscles in more places than he had had before. He had also finished growing to his adult height. No longer did he have the roundness of boyhood in his face.

Though, he had been far from a boy when she had last seen him. Still, Dorian's shoulders were broader, and he seemed to wear a considerable amount of muscle on his frame that he had not had before.

He wore his black suit well, not that she had any right to notice such a thing. Let alone stand here in appreciation of the image that he presented. It was a difficult time for him, she knew, as well as for his family. The same family that might have once been hers, had she made different choices.

Dorian would never understand why she'd done what she had. Why she'd had no choice.

He likely hated her now.

She ought to take Eleanor and go.

The Dorian of her past was endlessly kind and sweeter than any man had a right to be. He had treated her with nothing but kindness and respect. He had seen her, truly seen her, when nobody else had ever spared her a second glance. If the years had turned him cruel, she would be to blame for that as well. She could not deny it. She'd earned it, and she would take any wrath that he chose to send in her direction.

But Eleanor did not need to see it. There were things a young girl should never witness, and the tempers of a man was certainly one of them. Richard, her late husband, was a man of bountiful patience and endless love. He was the model after which she intended to choose Eleanor's own husband, when the time came.

"Mother, I thought you said Papa could not hear us here," Eleanor asked innocently. She was likely hungry, or in need of a nap. But Claire wished to linger just a moment longer. Just a moment. Even if seeing Dorian was torture for her, a sharp stabbing pain to the heart, she had not been able to stay away.

"He cannot, darling girl. But it is right to bring him flowers anyway," Claire said softly.

"But he cannot smell them?"

"No, sweetness, he cannot. But we wish his spirit to know that we will forever think of him. It is how he shall know that we still love him when he looks down from heaven to his burial place." Claire continued, though she was distracted. She could not stop looking at him.

Eleanor produced the two daisies that she had brought with her from the pocket in her dress and stepped forward to gently lay them on Richard's headstone. "I think he would like them. Do you agree, Mother?"

"He would love them. Father loved anything from you, you know that."

"I miss him," Eleanor added softly, though she no longer cried when they came to visit.

Claire could not tear her eyes from Dorian as she answered. "As do I, sweetness, as do I."

It would have been horribly improper to attend a funeral that she was not invited to. Most of all for the family in question. Though Dorian's father had been familiar to her, and she would have paid respect to him and the family if she could. But it would only make matters worse.

Claire knew she would be unwelcome. It would only cause pain and further suffering for her to reopen those wounds. Hers certainly had never healed. Dorian had likely only returned home to take over his father's title and duties. He certainly would not wish to see nor speak with her ever again.

It had been years since she had been so close to him. They had not even stood on the same soil in so, so long.

Claire forced her attention back to her daughter with a comforting smile as she pulled the girl closer into her side. The older she became, the more she started to take after her father. Sometimes, in Claire's weaker moments, it made her difficult to look at. To have a constant reminder smiling up at her of all of the things she would never have again.

Claire swallowed back the pain in her chest and brushed the stray hairs of her daughter's behind her ears. No, Eleanor was the bright light in her life. All of the rest of it did not matter.

She could not allow for it to matter. All of the betrayal, the anger, and how her broken heart would never mend itself after how things had happened. At least she'd gotten her daughter out of it. That was all that mattered. Her happiness was secondary to that of the brilliant young woman that she was raising.

"Mama, can we go home? I am tired…" Eleanor asked sweetly as she danced from one foot to the other.

"In just a moment, sweetness," Claire answered. Truly, she was fortunate that Richard was as kind-hearted as he had been. A thin, hardworking man with a dedication to his craft and calling, he had never thought that he would have a family of his own, and he had been nothing but kind to herself and her daughter. If he had not taken her in when he had, things would have ended very, very differently for both of them. She knew that.

She glanced in their direction one more time to see the others starting to leave or break off into smaller groups to socialize now that the vicar was done with his final words. She should leave before the temptation to see Dorian became too great.

Only there he was. He was staring directly at her.

Claire forgot how to breathe. She could not move. She could feel Eleanor pulling on the hem of her dress but she could not, for the life of her, remember how to make her legs work.

Then he was coming her way. Anxiety and nerves swirled in her stomach, as did a wholly other response to the stern, serious look on his face as Dorian cut through the crowd and out of his family's funeral plot. Dolores, much unchanged, pulled at his shirt as if to stop him, but he seemed quite determined. He did not slow as he moved toward them with intention. Claire did not know what to do with her hands.

"Mama, who is that man?"

Was that not the question of the hour? Who was Dorian now? He had all the same features of the love of her life. But was he still the same man on the inside? She doubted it. How could he be, after what she had done? What he thought was solely her choice?

Why, oh why, was she so damned thrilled to have him near to her again. She could weather whatever storm if it meant he spoke to her. Oh, her heart yearned for him. What she would not give for him to hold her. If only it were possible for him to sweep her up into his arms and spin her.

She wanted him to pepper her face with kisses and let all of the years melt away. If she could but fold time… fold that last happy moment in time with this one and make all of the painful middle parts simply disappear, she would.

"Mama?"

"Dorian." The word was whispered too quietly for her daughter to hear the answer to her question. She could not breathe. It was too warm out here. She felt faint. The world was spinning.

"You are as rebellious as ever, I see," he said by way of greeting. His voice was deeper, and there was a sharpness to it that had not been there before. Time would tell as to whether it was cruelness or not.

"My lord." Claire fanned her skirts to either side of her body as she dipped into a customary curtsy to greet him. Was she trembling? She could not tell. "My deepest condolences to you in your hour of grief."

At her side, Eleanor quickly moved to copy the gesture, muttering a greeting herself.

Claire did not dare look up again until he spoke. She could not do it. She could not stand to see the look of pain or irritation on his face. The way his hand balled into a fist at his side was telling enough.

"My my, such a well-mannered young lady you are!" Dorian said instead.

"Thank you, si—my lord!" Eleanor replied.

"I thank you for attending my father's funeral, even at such a distance."

"Eleanor, why not go and fetch another flower for our offering, sweetness?" Claire suggested.

"Might I really?"

"Yes, of course." Claire answered, finally daring to lift her eyes to face the full wrath on Dorian's perfectly handsome visage. He still took her breath away. She nearly swooned on her feet.

Eleanor squealed happily and took off running in search of another pretty wildflower to pluck. There was rarely anything that could dampen the girl's spirits.

"Do you really think it is wise for us to be alone together, Claire?" Dorian asked with the same detached sharpness.

"Did you not just finish saying that I was rebellious? Have you ever known me to worry of my reputation and what others thought or did?" Claire said softly. She could not look anywhere but the rich hazel of his eyes.

"I do not think I have ever known you at all, Claire, not really," Dorian answered.

The words stung, and she knew they were intended to.

"There was a time that the earl was like a second father to me. Of course I would wish to be here, even if I did not think I would be welcome at the service or mass. I only wished to pay my respects," Claire said softly.

"Is that right? Do you truly take me for a fool?"

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the traditional offering for such times as these—a small, modest token of remembrance. She produced a bundle of rosemary from her personal garden, tied together with a strip of black silk, and extended it out toward him. It did not feel at all like the olive branch she had intended it to be. Now that she was actually doing it, the gesture felt almost hollow.

Nevertheless, Dorian accepted it. He ran the small leaves under the pad of his thumb. He would be within his rights to walk away now. It might be the one and only opportunity she would ever be allowed to speak with him again, and she had squandered it.

She needed to say something. She had to force her mind to work. She had to fix this somehow. There were years' worth of things that she wished to say to him and she had no idea where she ought to even attempt to begin. How to begin to undo the years of pain and suffering that lay like a chasm between them?

Claire opened her mouth to speak, to say anything , but he beat her to it.

Dorian sighed and tore his eyes from hers. "Walk with me."