Chapter Twenty-Four

A lex heard happy voices coming from the drawing room and stopped to listen at the uncommon sound in his normally quiet home. One voice was Clarity's, and the other he recognized as Purity's. Just as he'd been drawn to their joyful group at the Devonshire House ball many months earlier, he now couldn't help going into the drawing room.

"Husband," Clarity exclaimed, jumping up to greet him.

He wondered how he could ever have thought her too forward. It was a distinct pleasure to witness the outward signs of her affection.

"Wife," he returned, meeting her halfway across the room, not even cringing when she threw her arms around him in front of her sister.

"Excuse me for witnessing this," Lady Purity said with mock horror, shielding her eyes with her hands.

Clarity laughed. "Stop teasing," she said. "I know you don't mind if I embrace Alex."

"Truthfully, I don't," Purity agreed. "How are you, Lord Hollidge?"

"I am well. What brings you to our humble abode?"

"Merely a brief visit. It's nice to get out of the house and come to a place that feels as comfortable as home. Clarity makes it such."

He nodded, glancing at the table before them, strewn with publications and odd scraps. He knew what the scraps were, more of Clarity's folded paper creatures.

"I brought some of the latest magazines for home decorating," she added, seeing his glance.

Before he could comment or release his wife, his aunt entered behind him.

"That will never do. Even if Lady Purity is family, I know she is also a woman of discernment and cannot possibly appreciate being subjected to your public impropriety."

Alex slowly released Clarity, noticing both the sisters looked as if they were about to burst out laughing.

"That's better," Aunt Elizabeth said when Clarity resumed her seat beside Purity. Then his aunt frowned. "Moreover, I didn't realize we were having company. If I had, there would be tea and cake already on the table."

She glanced at the pile of crumpled paper.

"Lady Purity's visit was not on the house schedule." Bending down, his aunt grabbed up two handfuls of Clarity's paper-folding detritus and tossed it onto the hearth. "That nonsense is a terrible waste of precious paper," she added.

Clarity's cheeks turned pink, and Purity at once came to her defense.

"On the contrary, Lady Aston. The meticulous and minute practice of the art of paper folding should be considered beneficial to the female brain, which is known to have a tendency toward imprecise and unfocused thoughts."

Alex's aunt didn't fall for any humbuggery. Taking a seat, she said, "Be that as it may, we now have a shortage of writing paper in this house."

"Shall we all take tea?" Clarity offered, going toward the bell-pull.

"I ordered service as soon as I heard voices," Aunt Elizabeth said, and Clarity's face fell. Yet Alex couldn't help but think his aunt had helped.

While they waited, now in silence except for his aunt discussing the weather, which she'd always insisted was the single safest topic, Purity absently picked up one of the remaining sheets of paper and began to make little folds.

As the conversation regarding how warm was too warm and how cool was too cool progressed, Alex realized Clarity was staring as hard as he was at her sister's fingers — quickly, methodically, and effortlessly turning the rectangle into a square and then folding the square into a delicate bird.

Clarity actually winced as Purity tossed it onto the table in front of her when the maid came in with the tea.

Aunt Elizabeth leaned forward and picked it up. "How clever! Look, Alex, isn't that a pretty thing?" Then she looked at Clarity. "Is this what you've been trying to do?"

His poor wife! Purity had not done it on purpose, but she'd embarrassed Clarity beyond measure.

"How did you do that?" Clarity asked, her voice near to trembling.

Purity gaped as if she hadn't realized what she'd done.

"I ... I," she began, then she coughed. "I only did what you taught me."

"Poppycock," his aunt said. "I've watched Lady Hollidge, and she hasn't folded a single page that looked like anything but a bowl of porridge."

"Aunt Elizabeth!" Alex cautioned.

But true to form, his Clarity offered a smile.

"Lady Aston is correct. While I appreciate my sister trying to cover up her own aptitude while bolstering mine, I agree with Lady Aston's assessment. But I must know how you did it, dear sister?"

"I read the book you left behind," Purity said. "I'll bring it next time. It is much easier if you follow the written instructions precisely."

Feeling pleased with the results of the flower arrangements, Clarity made sure one could catch the joyful aroma of roses from nearly every room on the first two floors of the house.

Mrs. Rigley even remarked how it was just like when the former Lady Hollidge was alive.

"She used to sketch her arrangements," the housekeeper recalled.

"Where are those sketches now?" Clarity wondered. "Are all the previous viscountess's things stored in the attic?"

"Yes, my lady, although there might be some drawings in the desk in Lady Aston's salon."

At least Mrs. Rigley hadn't recommended Clarity ask permission to search the attic before she curtsied and went about her business. Regardless, Clarity would ask Alex's aunt if she had come across them before she went on an attic expedition.

When her husband's strong arms slipped around her waist from behind while she was standing quietly enjoying the drawing room, she squealed in surprise, then delight.

"Did I startle you?" he asked, nuzzling her neck, making her body tingle.

"I wasn't sure for a moment if it was you or Mr. Berard."

They both laughed. The sound of Alex's laughter was a boon to her soul. Knowing she had helped conjure it after all these years tickled her. Turning in his arms, she slid her hand up and laced her fingers behind his neck.

"Do you like the flowers?"

"I love the flowers. And I love you for bringing them back. I would never have guessed that their scent would make our house smell like home again. The air seems lighter even while being perfumed."

She beamed at him. "I am very happy."

"As am I."

He bent to kiss her. As always, when his lips touched hers, she experienced a firestorm of pleasurable fluttering in her stomach while sizzling desire heated her, seeming to turn her muscles and bones to molten liquid. Nor could she deny his simple, perfect kiss caused her to grow damp between her legs now that she knew what swiving felt like.

Relaxing against him, Clarity relished his large hands roaming across her curves, molding the fabric of her day gown.

"Let's go upstairs," he whispered. "I can think of nothing more important than making love to my wife."

In minutes, she was spread across their counterpane in broad daylight, bare as a newborn with Alex's mouth upon her. Sinking her fingers into his thick brown hair, she closed her eyes and accepted his worship of her body.

When he swirled his tongue around one nipple and the other and then continued down her body, searing a path toward her soft thatch of curls, Clarity held her breath.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, his mouth against her womanly mound. "You're tearing out my hair, woman!"

She giggled, releasing her hold, not realizing she'd been fisting and tugging his soft mane in her excitement.

With Alex's hands under her bottom, tilting her toward him, his talented tongue worked a familiar magic that always brought her to the brink of release quickly enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

"Yes," she said, sailing over the peak as his tongue teased and flicked her most sensitive spot. "Yes!"

After he delighted her with a final suck upon her little throbbing nubbin, he rose above her before nestling his hips between her legs. She felt safe, cherished, and wildly aroused when he pinned her to the bed with his strong, naked body.

Parting for him, she was eager for his rigid arousal to enter and fill her. From that moment, Clarity held on to Alex's back while he set the rhythm of their tupping and brought her once more to climax before finding his own shuddering release.

She could not imagine that it could be this perfect with all couples, but she hoped so.

When she had redressed and accompanied him to his study, leaving him with a kiss, she knocked on Lady Aston's sitting-room door.

With no answer, Clarity pushed it open and entered. Alex had said the desk was his mother's, and she could see no harm in looking inside it for the sketches Mrs. Rigley had mentioned.

To that end, she approached the mahogany desk in the corner, which sat sturdily upon reeded, tapering legs. It had a polished, green-leather inset and three shallow drawers. A lamp and a blotter were all that cluttered the top.

Clarity tried to open the middle drawer, but it was locked, making her think failure of any meaningful discovery was imminent. However, when she tugged on the left-hand drawer, it opened smoothly. Unfortunately, it contained merely the usual writing implements, a pot of ink with a pipette for filling the fountain pen lying beside it, a stick of green wax, another of black, and two silver seals.

She picked up the one with the initial H and shivered, thinking of the Hollidges who might have used it before and their connection now to her. She would forever after represent a single knot in the long rope of this lineage. The other seal was an A belonging to Alex's aunt.

Pushing the drawer closed, she was reaching for the right-hand drawer when Lady Aston entered the room, halted, and gasped with her face turning florid.

"How dare you?" she demanded.

For the briefest instant, Clarity was eight years old again. A frisson of fear trickled down her spine, and she imagined Lady Aston demand she be thrashed or caned. Then she recalled who she was and where she was and straightened.

"How dare I what?" Clarity asked.

"Rifle through my personal belongings."

"That was not my intent. The locked drawer, which I assume contains anything of a personal nature, remains secure," Clarity assured her, although now she wondered just what might be in there. "I was looking for Lady Hollidge's flower sketches. Mrs. Rigley said they might still be in her desk."

"Then you should have waited until I was here and asked me."

"I meant no offense, but I apologize sincerely, nonetheless. There was nothing of import in the drawer I looked in."

If the lady couldn't accept her apology, Clarity could do nothing about it. But she was still determined to see Lady Hollidge's arrangements. She had a mind to frame and display them.

"Have you seen the drawings I seek?" she asked, determined to change the course of their discussion away from being made to feel like a naughty snoop.

"As a matter of fact, I have, but they are not in that desk." Lady Aston strode to the bookcase. On the bottom shelf was a wooden case, which she withdrew. Without ceremony, she shoved it toward Clarity, ramming it into her midsection.

"You may take them with you when you depart my sitting room."

Despite the rude invitation to leave, Clarity still managed to thank her before turning to the door.

"I shall see you at dinner, Lady Aston."

"Yes," the woman hissed.

As Clarity strolled along the corridor to her bed chamber, she heard Alex's aunt slam the door.

That was the single most satisfying noise she'd heard in a long time. Not that she wanted to be a thorn in the older woman's side. But it certainly was rewarding not to be the one who'd been left thwarted and annoyed.

Having no place to call her own besides her bedroom, she sat in a chair by the window next to her bed to examine the treasure she'd gleaned

Seated in his study, Alex couldn't shake the anxious feeling of dread. It had crept into his brain almost as soon as they'd returned from their wedding journey. After meeting with his accountant and his banker, he was ready to strike out for Suffolk with Clarity by his side, yet he was hesitating.

As usual, she was fizzing with excitement, ready to leave at a moment's notice, unmindful whether the coach wheels had been inspected or if any of the horses had thrown a shoe.

Normally, he liked the quiet, solitary journeys by carriage, regardless of the length of the journey. But riding with Clarity had its benefits.

"With the curtains drawn," she mused, "we could be doing anything inside while traveling."

That made him laugh, but then the unsettling doubts and the recurring nightmares drove out the promise of enjoyment. Abruptly, for her safety, he decided they should take the train instead. Seated upon the red upholstery of the train to Suffolk, Alex still hadn't told her about the return of his nightmares, which always ended with an overturned carriage.

He hadn't had them for years. Now, practically every night, he sprang awake with his heart racing, breathing hard, feeling the sheen of sweat upon his skin. Beside him, Clarity slept peacefully, unawares.

"This is Lady Hollidge," he told the manager at his largest farm in Ipswich. "I think she would enjoy it if you showed her around." And he didn't have to say anything else. Clarity jumped in with questions, pointing out what interested her and making a joke about the sheep sounding as if they were laughing.

By the time they departed to return to Belfinch Hall, as they did each night while touring the area, she'd clearly delighted his manager.

She did that everywhere he took her. They spent their days walking the land and exploring villages, and each night they were entwined, satisfying each other. Everyone liked her, and nothing was wrong.

And yet the nightmares continued, along with the growing anxiety.

Only when he emerged from the same dismal dream and stared at her — watching her breathe, occasionally sigh, or even smile in her sleep — only then did the worry leave him temporarily. He had his Diamond, and all was right in the world.

He reminded himself of that every day and night.

But what if one day he didn't?

That awful thought had him awakening one night, realizing in the dream, she had been inside the carriage with him when it overturned. Unthinkingly, he gathered her sleeping form close in his arms, startling her awake.

"Alex," she exclaimed.

"Sorry, my love. I didn't mean to wake you. But I needed to hold you."

She had chuckled softly. "You may hold me anytime you like without apology."

And when he drifted off to sleep again with her pressed against him, he slept peacefully.

The following day, as they traversed the bridge beside the largest mill he owned, with Clarity prattling on about everything she saw, a board cracked under her feet. The rotted wood split, she stumbled, and to his horror, pitched toward the waterwheel, catching herself on the rustic railing.

He grabbed her to him. "You must be more careful." His tone was harsh with terror.

"I'm fine, Alex. I can hardly be careful about a board beneath me, can I? But I'm unharmed."

"Come along," he ordered, keeping her hand in his.

"Mr. Johnson," he yelled as they reached the mill's office.

The manager, whom Clarity had met an hour earlier, rose from his desk when they entered.

"Yes, my lord."

"There was a rotted plank by the waterwheel. My wife could have died."

The man blanched. "I thought I told you about that, my lord. We have a carpenter coming tomorrow."

"Not good enough," Alex fumed, too easily able to imagine Clarity plunging to her death. "You are sacked!"