Chapter Eighteen

" I t is as though Purity is the older sister," Clarity moaned almost as soon as Alex entered her mother's private sitting room on the second floor.

Seated on the sofa with her feet tucked up under her, she was folding sheets of paper to distract herself. Sadly, she couldn't deny they all looked abysmally like the same freakish winged dog, and not one like the delicate bird she intended.

She hadn't been the least bit surprised when Alex found her. As children, if he came looking, she was usually in this room where her mother had the most glorious trinkets and whatnots. And if she was ever looking for him, he was in the stable, all the way up in the hayloft.

"Why don't I have more sense? Why must I be so frivolous?" she asked when he came to stand in front of her.

"Not frivolous," he corrected. "Playful and frolicsome."

"And rudely boastful," she added. "I swear I didn't intend to turn all my geese into swans."

"You didn't say anything that wasn't true," Alex protested. "Your sister was harsh," he added.

It was kind of him to take her side.

"I bet Purity wasn't the only one to say something." Clarity sent her latest attempt at a bird dashing to the rug with the others piled there.

When he looked uncomfortable, she knew the truth.

"Your aunt thinks I'm a crow. Admit it. And Miss Brambury does, too."

He shrugged, confirming the worst. As the eldest daughter of the hosts, she ought to have behaved better.

"I admit I was overly pleased at having done well." She snatched up another piece of paper and began to fold back the corners for wings.

"It's your exuberant nature," Alex said. "Besides in a way, I'm the oldest son, albeit the only one," he added, making her smile, "and I was beyond exuberant if you'll recall. I didn't have an ounce of sense when I was younger."

"You grew up to have it," she pointed out. "The good sense to earn an Oxford degree and handle your father's land. Accordingly, you earn the respect of all who know you. And then to top it off with cream, you sorted out your personal life by choosing a suitable female at your very first dance."

"I think it was the second ball," he corrected, crouching at her feet and examining the folded bits of paper.

She had a good look at the top of his head and thought he had lovely hair for a man.

"Besides," he said, "I had everything playful knocked out of me by tragedy that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. I envy you your family. Eldest or youngest or in between, how lucky you are to have your siblings."

She nodded. "Your situation would have been far more bearable if you'd had a brother or sister to share your grief. But we were here. Why didn't you ever come back to visit?"

"My aunt said I wouldn't be welcome because of how much your mother cherished my mother."

Shocked, Clarity's mouth fell open as she tried to make sense of his words.

"I'm sorry, but I do not understand," she said after a moment.

"Because I would be a painful reminder of whom Lady Diamond had lost and why."

Another confusing statement. "And why is that?" Clarity asked, dropping her feet to the floor and leaning toward him as he spoke.

"Because it was my fault." Alex's words were dropped into the air between them like heavy, sharp rocks into a smooth pond.

"Nonsense," she said when she recovered.

"You hesitated because it is not nonsense," he said, rising to his feet and pacing to the window. "Amazing to think my parents looked out upon this same view."

But she wouldn't let him change the subject.

"I hesitated because I was greatly surprised by your wrongheaded thinking. Your parents died from a broken wheel causing their carriage to careen over a steep bank, and nothing to do with you at all."

How had his aunt made him believe otherwise?

"The journey was undertaken because of me. They would have been safely in London, living their happy lives, if they hadn't had such a wayward son whom they had to drag to boarding school to put on the straight path."

He turned to face her. "If I had been a serious and proper heir, they would be alive today!"

She'd felt her eyes grow larger with his words. What a terrible burden he carried and so pointlessly!

"I tell you again, Alex, that is nonsense. Moreover, it is inaccurate to lay the blame at your own feet."

He gave a bark of derisive laughter. "Then whose?"

"Your aunt's!" she insisted.

He shook his head, and his shoulders flagged. "I know you don't care for Aunt Elizabeth, but she means well and has raised me as best she could."

"Out of guilt, I warrant. And she didn't raise you," Clarity pointed out. "She shipped you off immediately to that horrid school where you were beaten."

"It wasn't that horrible, merely a shock after my earlier life. Other boys were beaten, too," he dismissed with a shrug. "And I came home on holidays. Besides, why would my aunt feel guilty? She wasn't even in the carriage."

Clarity took a deep breath. She had to tell him, wishing her mother were there to do it instead.

"After your parents died and it had been ages since I'd seen you, I asked my mother why you couldn't come to visit. She became distraught."

Alex's mouth tightened in a line.

"Not because of you. I caught her at a bad moment. Normally, she is the epitome of patience and serenity. At that instant, however, she raised her voice and said you couldn't come because you were at that ‘miserable school' Lady Aston pressured your parents into sending you."

She fell silent. Alex appeared hardly able to breathe.

"If you don't believe me," she said, "you may speak with my mother. She told me Lady Aston convinced your parents you should attend Eton. My mother recalled it specifically because your aunt said it would be worth every penny of the ￡300 it would cost per term. Lord and Lady Hollidge didn't like the idea of being parted from you and were determined to see if it was a jolly place before committing to anything. And that is why they were going," Clarity insisted. "Not to send you away because they were disappointed in you."

She placed her hand on his forearm.

"After they died, I suppose your aunt didn't bother to find out whether it was jolly or not."

"It was not," he said softly. Then his gaze lifted from the floor to hers. "Well, I'll be damned."

That wasn't something she'd expected the stuffy, proper viscount to utter. It nearly broke her heart. She put her other hand on him, too, now grasping both his upper arms. He didn't shake her off.

"It does put things in a different perspective," he said, his green eyes unwavering as he gazed into hers. "Then why did she keep me from visiting all of you?"

Clarity shrugged, wishing it were her place to put her arms around him.

"Perhaps she worried my mother would tell you the truth if you ever mentioned your feelings of guilt."

"I can scarcely believe this. It doesn't excuse my behavior —"

"You were a child doing childish things," she insisted.

He nodded. "It doesn't excuse my pushing the limits of childish behavior," he amended, "but what you've told me does bring me a sense of relief." He paused. "I didn't push them into the carriage and force them to ride to their deaths."

It wasn't a question, but Clarity gasped and answered anyway.

"No, of course not. How awful for you to have ever thought such a thing!"

Before she realized it, she had pressed herself against him, laying her cheek on his shoulder and sliding her arms around his waist purely to embrace his motionless form.

After the briefest hesitation, his arms went around her, hugging her to him as tightly as she could imagine. Neither attempted to turn the gesture into anything more, and Clarity had no idea how long they stood there. All she knew was she wanted to give him as much comfort as she could. She didn't expect to experience such a sense of well-being in return.

When at last they broke apart, with him loosening his hold first, there was no embarrassment. He smiled down at her, and she returned it.

As usual, being the more sensible, he turned away and walked toward the door.

"Thank you for not using your considerable feminine attributes to turn this," he gestured at the two of them and the room in general, "into something improper and compromising. It's wonderful to know we can still be friends."

She nodded, yet her heart pinched. She would be his friend always if he would allow it, but she could still wish for more.

"Regardless, I suppose we had better not be found unaccompanied," Alex added, while not sounding as inflexible as previously he might have.

"I suppose not," she agreed, letting him walk away without another word, obviously needing to be alone with his thoughts.

Saturday morning, Clarity awakened with a sense of dread. It was the last full day of the house party, which would be capped with the ball. Their guests would all leave on the morrow, including Alex.

Being a bit of a crow herself, the previous evening, Lady Aston mentioned to the other ladies in the drawing room after dinner how she expected her nephew to be married before the year's end. Miss Brambury blushed accordingly, looking pleased as Punchinello.

Clarity had felt ill. If Alex seemed his vibrant self, full of interest, vim, and vigor when in Emmeline's company, it wouldn't pain her so, but the tepid interactions she had witnessed saddened her further.

What a colorless, paltry life he was condemning himself to! Unless he truly loved the woman.

Clarity decided to ask him outright. If he said he loved Emmeline, then she would let him alone. If his heart was not engaged, then she might try to convince him the entanglement was nothing but an error.

At breakfast, she did not change her mind. Guests were offered a casual arrangement, taking their morning tea and eggs either in the salon, the dining room, or outside on the veranda since the weather was fine.

Clarity enjoyed the veranda, and it seemed Alex was of a similar opinion when Miss Brambury was overheard to worry about gnats and too much sun. With a rueful glance to where Clarity and her siblings were eating, he turned heel and escorted the lady back inside where undoubtedly his aunt was already enjoying the gnat-free interior.

Wolfing down the remainder of her breakfast, Clarity went to find him, determined to ease her mind long before the evening's ball. Luckily, she caught him descending the stairs, wearing a lightweight jacket. Apparently, he was going out.

Twisting her hands in the skirts of her green gown, a pale version of his verdant eyes, she looked at his handsome face. When he peered expectantly back at her, for a moment, her thoughts scattered like dandelion fluff.

"Were you looking for me?" he asked finally.

"Yes." She coughed.

He waited patiently until she took a deep breath and plunged ahead.

"Are you free or otherwise —?" Clarity cut herself off mid-sentence. She'd almost used the word engaged . "Or otherwise committed to some activity?"

"Miss Brambury and my aunt went upstairs for their wraps and sturdier walking shoes. I was going to take them to the knobby hill."

"Are you?" She took a step back. Clarity didn't want him taking those women anywhere but especially not there. "To my knobby-kneed giant?"

Long ago, they'd made up a tale of a giant lying down, and the two hills on the Diamond land were his knees.

"The knobby-kneed giant," Alex repeated, offering a small smile that seemed larger than it was due to its rarity.

Clarity bit her lip. Maybe he was going to ask for Miss Brambury's hand on top of the hill, a sunny, beautiful place with a view of the river. Glancing up the stairs, seeing no one but Lord and Lady Fenwick starting their descent, she hoped she still had time.

"Lady Aston and Miss Brambury are taking longer than you anticipated to get ready. Maybe they have a touch of indigestion. Cook's breakfasts can be very rich."

Taking hold of his arm, she began urging Alex toward the door, hoping to get him out of view before the women came downstairs.

He looked behind him, concerned. "Do you really think so?"

She did not but heard herself saying, "Absolutely. Perhaps they're even having a bit of a lie-down."

"Surely walking is better for digestion than lying down," Alex said.

"I don't know about that." Clarity had succeeded in getting him out the front door, and now they would have to walk around the side toward the back.

"I probably shouldn't go far," he said.

"I know I should leave you to a walk with Miss Brambury, and you can have time for that later, but I was having trouble falling asleep last night —" she began.

"As was I," he said.

They looked at one another, and her breath caught. Please let him agree to walk with me, she prayed.