Chapter 7

Chapter 7

As much as Claire loved the sunlight, since her daughter was born, she had grown a deep affinity for the moon. Something about the quiet, peaceful nighttime hours appealed to her now in a way that they had never done before. Perhaps it was just because those hours, where she could sit here in the window and observe the streets of London and also watch her daughter sleeping, put her at peace.

Peace was rare these days.

All of the shops were closed and the lamp lighters had already made their passes. She could watch the flicker and glow of the fires while the small one in her own bedroom crackled and grew dimmer with the passing hours. Something she had learned about herself since Richard passed was that it was nearly impossible for her to get any sort of good sleep by herself.

The whole reason she had married him was so she did not have to do any of this by herself. She had not wished to be on her own. Seeing Dorian today had only further reminded her just how lonely she was. Richard had left behind a decent living for them. It would be a great many years before she needed to go out and find employment to provide for herself and Eleanor if she chose not to remarry.

But how could she? She had found the blessing of a lifetime in Richard; the unique situation that she had enjoyed with him was not something that she would ever find again and she knew it. In her bones, she knew it.

Eleanor was all that mattered now. Keeping her safe and happy, providing for her even in their modest living. That was what needed to be her focus.

Claire pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The thin white linen of her nightgown did little to protect her body from the chill of the evening London air seeping in through the window panes, but she ignored it. She admired the peaceful look on her daughter's face as she slept, sprawled across the bed like some sort of silly animal.

If she knew what was good for her, Claire would crawl into bed beside her daughter and lay there until she could fool her body into sleeping. But instead, she kept replaying the events of the day. If she closed her eyes and focused hard, she could recall the way Dorian's face felt against her fingers and the unsure look in his beautiful eyes before he was pulled away from her.

She should have told him the truth.

She should have started blurting truths from the moment that she saw him again, but she had been afraid. She still was. He would be reproachful. And that was presuming that he understood. If their roles were reversed, she did not know if she would be so understanding.

Filled with unease, she turned her focus once again to the stars up above. Was he looking at the same stars right now? Would telling him the truth make a difference? He did leave, after all.

Perhaps Dorian did not deserve to know the truth. Even with everything that happened, she had expected to receive a letter. At least one. Something that would let her know where he stood and if he hated her. Or if he was coming back, or even where he went. Today, he had said that he had not left of his own choosing. But could she trust that?

Aside from Richard, it had been so, so hard to place genuine trust in anyone .

Claire had insisted on a quiet, fiercely private life away from the gossiping eyes of the ton for a reason. Her inability to trust was the main one. Richard had just been enough of a saint in the form of a man that he had indulged her.

Leaving indefinitely. That was what Dolores had said, was it not?

Claire rarely allowed herself to remember the worst afternoon of her life. Before that fateful afternoon, she had thought of Dolores as a sister. After all, once she and Dorian were wed, they would be sisters anyway.

They had grown up playing together so closely, she had never thought to worry about titles or their difference in rank. She and Dorian always simply said their parent's titles and responsibilities were not their own. She had thought Dolores agreed with them.

She had not always been cruel. Had she?

Certainly, the longer that Dorian had been away, the colder Dolores had seemed to become. As they were no longer running in the same circles, she was easy enough to avoid. The less negative attention that Eleanor had to endure, the better.

Claire's mind drifted back to the tea party. When she had arrived at their estate all those years ago, she had been under the impression that it was to be a grand affair with plenty of guests. She'd thought it was an informal acceptance of the union between herself and Dorian.

Dolores had expressed some concerns, so Claire had thought that the party was an apology. She had dressed up in her finest gown and made sure to buy flowers with the money she had saved up. But then, when she arrived, it had only been the two of them.

Dolores had spared no expense on the tea party, to her credit. The place settings and everything involved with them was stunning. Claire had hardly seen so many types of cookies and sandwiches before. There were collections of herbs and floral teas, and the aviary that she had chosen to host the party in was one of Claire's favorite rooms in the whole house.

It looked like she had walked into a fairy tale, something fit for a princess or pulled right out of one of her books.

They had gossiped and laughed, and Dolores had explained that she wanted some time to spend with Claire, just the two of them, as she had rather important information to pass on. But she waited until they were over an hour into the party to share said information.

When Dolores said Dorian was gone, she had said it so casually that Claire had thought she was joking. It had to be a joke. A cruel prank to startle her. Or something, at least. Claire remembered laughing at it. She could not be serious.

But she had been. Dolores informed her that Dorian had been shipped off that morning. That their father had had enough of him with his head in the clouds and all of his lofty ideas that he had been sent away indefinitely to pursue further higher education opportunities. He would not return, Dolores had said, until he became a man. One that would make Father proud.

Claire had waited for letters. She had longed for a word from him. She had wanted to write him, to demand explanation. Was he breaking their engagement? But she'd had no idea where it was that she was supposed to send the letters. And after that fateful tea party, Dolores had wasted no time in informing her that she was no longer welcome in their estate.

In her condition, if she had not found Richard… she would have been…

Claire's eyes shut. She did not like to dwell upon how terrible her life might have ended up. Yes, she was certain Dorian was upset with her for a great many things. He certainly had reason to be. But she had equal reason to be upset with him, too.

Her heart was broken. It would always remain that way. Richard had become her closest friend, it was true. She had taken great comfort in him, but it was never romantic.

Their marriage worked because it was an arrangement of understanding—closeness where it was needed but certainly no passion. Not when his personal proclivities tended a different direction than hers. Marriage of mutual beneficence for them both.

On the bed, Eleanor started to stir. Her pretty face pinched as she squirmed. She moved enough in her sleep that the bedding and sheets often became tangled around her legs and she would wake in a fit, feeling trapped.

Claire unfolded herself from the window and crossed to where her daughter struggled. Though she untangled the sheets in an effort to help, it seemed it was not merely a fit, but one of her many nightmares.

Eleanor's soft protests became louder until they were sounds of genuine fear. All the while, Claire tried to wake her daughter as gently as possible. The poor girl never knew why she had nightmares. She could never recall a single one. She would wake up crying sometimes and explain that she tried and tried to remember what she was afraid of, but she never knew.

"Mama! Mama!" Eleanor moaned as her small hands reached out, all while trying to rouse herself from her nightmare. Claire crawled into the bed with her and cradled her daughter to her chest, rocking her slowly back and forth.

"Shhh, sweetness, it is all right. I am here. Nothing can harm you, I am here." Claire cooed while petting Eleanor's soft hair down over her head where it had come loose from her braid.

Eleanor snuggled against her chest, wide awake now and unlikely to go back to sleep any time soon. Selfishly, Claire was glad of the company.

"Shall we talk about the stars again tonight?" she suggested. "Count the constellations?"

"Yes, please." Eleanor wrapped her small arms around her mother's neck and held tightly as Claire carried her back to the window ledge and curled them both up on it. She brought the blanket from the bed with her.

"Very well, then tonight we shall talk about Andromeda and Persus and their great love."