Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Claire did not know if she was walking toward fortune or damnation.

It could be either, though she supposed it could also be both. If Dorian were to demand an explanation from her, she would not have it available to give. There were things that even now, she could not say.

It did not matter how badly she wanted to or if it was what her heart longed to do. She could not. There had been countless times over the years that she had imagined doing exactly that. She had thought she could throw herself at his feet and beg for mercy. Perhaps if she had explained then, or made different choices, but she had been so frightened.

There was no point in dwelling on it now. What was done was done.

Standing beside him now, she felt so small. It was not that he was just a solid head taller than her, it was this new energy around his presence. Closed off instead of inviting. He walked at a comfortable stride with his hands clasped respectfully behind his back. He had always been confident within his own skin, but this was something else.

The last time they had been alone together, they had—.

Heat blossomed over her face. Suddenly, Claire wished she had brought a parasol or something that might otherwise help to hide her face at moments like this. It was unwise to walk with him, but she could not deny herself. She was far too aware of the fact that an opportunity like this one might never arise again.

"I am grateful to have been allowed to witness the ceremony, my lord," Claire offered, unsure of where else to start the conversation.

He had once been as familiar to her as her own diary. All of her hopes and dreams had been known to him. There had not been a secret between them. At least not on her end. Dorian had always been more selective with his words. She had always thought it was because he simply felt things more strongly than most. His actions had been more than generous.

"Did you enjoy your time away from the earldom?"

Dorian glanced at her.

She hoped he did not take her question the wrong way. She did not mean if he enjoyed his time away from her.

"It was diverting, I suppose. It was not my choice to leave, so it was slightly less than favorable," Dorian responded.

When he did not offer any additional information, it was as much of a sign of how much things had changed between them as anything else. Only so few years ago, he would have been happy to describe his travels and the things he had seen and done. He would explain the food to her, or the cultures he had experienced. He knew she would have clung to his each and every word. They could have talked about it for hours and never tired of one another's company.

She had never felt so self-conscious in his presence. Her words came out almost sheepishly. Perhaps if she asked the right question in the right way, she would see some glimmer of the man that she loved so fiercely inside of him.

"If it was not your choice to spend so much time abroad, then who sent you away?" she found herself asking despite not having any right to such information. "I-I mean, I had been under the impression that it was your choice to leave… that you wanted to be away."

"Because of you?" Dorian said baldly.

Claire blanched. "Well, perhaps a little bit."

"I had plenty of occupations here that would have consumed my time. I left because I was bid to," Dorian said sharply. He seemed to look at her so deeply that he could see straight to her wounded soul. She did not know how to endure such a consuming glance.

"Dorian… I… my lord…" She did not know what to call him. It was no longer a teasing joke to refer to him formally. She did not know if she had the privilege of using his name any longer.

He took a step closer to her. The still-familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around her. She was tempted to close her eyes and bask in it, but she could not look away. Her heart leaped into her throat as she forced herself to stand tall in front of him.

Something softened in his gaze. The tension melted from the rigid way he held his jaw as he drew closer. For a heartbeat, she thought he might touch her. She thought perhaps he would close the distance and embrace her, and the years would fall away.

But she turned out to be the weak one. Whatever words were so obviously on the tip of his tongue faded into silence as she lifted her hand to cup the line of his jaw.

Emboldened by the feel of his warmth under her fingertips, she let her fingers trail over the hollow of his cheek. He did not flinch away. He did not remove himself from her touch. Something so simple, and she felt as if she were so filled with joy that she could have flown directly up into the sky.

"It is so good to see you, Dorian," Claire whispered.

It should have always been like this. She should have been able to touch him any time that she so chose. She should have been able to embrace and kiss him as she liked. It should have been his ring on her finger instead of the modest band that had been given to her by Richard.

"The years have been so kind to you," she said with equal softness, as if breathing too loudly would shatter this fragile moment between them.

Dorian's hand lifted, hovering just over her own as if he would move to hold it in place. The ghost of his fingers had barely touched the back of her hand before everything stopped. Dorian jerked his hand away from her as if she had burned him.

Eleanor bounded around the corner with her hand full of freshly plucked flowers of every color and shape. "Mama, Mama!" she called, searching for Claire to approve the bountiful selection she had found for Richard's headstone. "You will be so pleased with me! I can tell it!"

Removing her hand from Dorian's face felt as if she were removing her hand from her body. The pain of it was a physical blow as she stepped away from him, guilt and pain blossoming in her chest anew. She forced herself to swallow it down and force a smile onto her face for the sake of her daughter.

But Eleanor brandished her flowers at Dorian. "My lord, do you think they are pretty?"

"Not half as pretty as you," Dorian answered, but his words were distant as he got a good, thorough look at Eleanor.

"These two match the blue of my dress! Did you see?" She twirled her skirts to display her gown as she spoke.

"They are quite lovely indeed…"

Worry consumed Claire and she took her daughter's hand. "Come, Eleanor, we have taken up far too much of the lord's time. He has much to attend to and we have to place your pretty flowers."

"Of course, Mama." Eleanor said, but she pulled her hand out of her mother's grip to curtsy once more at Dorian. "Goodbye, my lord."

She smiled so bright she practically twinkled. And Claire knew they needed to get out of there at once, before anything else happened that she could not control properly. There were questions she did not wish to have asked. Things she could not properly explain. Least of all to Dorian, if he were to ask them.

She guided Eleanor around the massive oak tree that she and Dorian had been standing behind, heading back to the gravesite only to practically run into the very last person she wanted to see.

For nearly six years now, Claire had been vehemently avoiding Dolores.

"Pardon me, my lady," Claire gritted through her teeth. Eleanor started to copy her mother's actions and curtsy, and Claire was forced to pull on her daughter's arm so that she would not. They did not have the time to linger for a conversation—not with Dolores.

"You just could not help yourself, could you?" Dolores spat as her arms folded across her chest. "Then again, I suppose you never had enough sense to keep to your own station, did you?"

"I am deeply sorry about the loss of your father, Dolores. I do hope you have the day that you have earned," Claire said as neutrally as she could. She thought it was rather commendable of her that she did not go out of her way to split in the woman's face.

It was what she wanted to do. It was certainly the treatment that Dolores deserved for doing everything within her power to make the last handful of years of her life as difficult as possible. Wretched, horrible woman.

She could not be more different from her brother if she tried.

"I have not dismissed you!" Dolores sneered, hoping to stop Claire from leaving by any method that she could. She loved to flaunt her self-claimed "power" over those she deemed to be "lesser than." Claire, of course, was at the very top of that list.

"I see you are still under the impression that you are able to have any say over what I do," Claire said firmly. "You do not, nor have you ever."

She pulled Eleanor half behind her body as she glared at Dolores.

"If you know what you is good for you, you will stay far away from myself and my family from this moment forward. Consider it a threat or a warning, it matters not. I will not allow you to hurt anyone else I love."

"Love?" Claire scoffed bitterly. "I was not aware that you were capable of such a thing."

"Watch your tongue."

"I am not afraid of you, Dolores," Claire spat.

"Perhaps you should be, old friend." Dolores turned her focus to Eleanor with a lifted brow. "Perhaps you should be."

With that, Claire scooped her daughter up into her arms and quickly left. She would not allow herself to be intimidated by that horrible woman. Never again.