Chapter 11

11

WILLIAM

W illiam opened the door and let Clara pass through to where Silas stood, inspecting one of the rifles that hung on the wall. He could hardly believe he was truly looking at his brother, different as Silas now appeared.

Neither did he find it easy to believe that Silas had chosen to come—and stay—with him , rather than Anthony or Frederick. The relationship between William and Silas had always been the most strained amongst the Yorke brothers.

But William knew why Silas had come to him: William was his hope for salvation.

Silas turned at their entrance, an anxious look entering his eyes, as though he was nervous to hear the result of William and Clara's discussion. It was a foreign expression for a man who had always been carefree and even thoughtless. It spoke just as strongly as his disheveled appearance of the changes the past two years had wrought upon him.

"Silas," William said, "allow me to introduce you to Clara Quinn. We took her on about a fortnight ago as an upper housemaid, but she has kindly agreed to the task of looking after you."

Silas let out a small breath of relief, and his mouth stretched into a smile. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Clara." He gave a little bow.

"And I yours, Mr. Yorke," she said politely, curtsying in return.

"I am sorry you have been roped into this," Silas said, "but, I assure you, my gratitude to you knows no bounds." He reached for her hand and pressed a kiss upon the back of it.

Clara's cheeks flushed, and a hint of annoyance flashed through William. Silas had always been the most charming of the brothers. Flirtatious, even. Frederick, with his charisma and ability to talk persuasively, came next. Anthony's tendency to brood coupled with his quick wit had always made him a subject of interest amongst the fairer sex.

And then there was William. More starched up than a gentleman's Sabbath cravat was how Silas had once described him.

"The hunting lodge seems to be the most logical answer to the question of where to keep you," William said. "Though, Clara, I fear that means you will be obliged to make more than one visit there each day to ensure Silas has food, drink, and a chance to stretch his legs in the fresh air."

"May as well fit me with leading strings," Silas said with a half smile.

"It is certainly not out of the question if you give us reason to think it necessary," William retorted. He turned his attention back to Clara. "The lodge is a fifteen-minute walk from the main house."

"It is no trouble, Your Grace," she said. "I enjoy walking."

He smiled slightly. "I remember you saying that. But unfortunately, it will be a fair amount of trouble. We require an excuse to offer Mrs. Finch for your absences, and though we have such an excuse in the way of the multitude of guests we will be welcoming?—"

"Guests?" Silas exclaimed, his eyes brightening.

"Guests from whom you will keep your distance. Obviously." He stared meaningfully at Silas.

"Right. Of course."

"If you had come last night," William said, "I would have been able to stop Edmund from sending the invitations, but as they were sent earlier today, it is out of our hands now. Assuming we receive positive responses from most of the people invited, which Edmund assures me we shall, we will need the lodge to accommodate some of them. Clara, you will make your visits under the guise of preparing the lodge for visitors."

She nodded.

"The difficulty will arise once those visitors arrive. Keeping Silas's presence there a secret will require a great deal of strategy and care."

"Your Grace," Clara said, "I have just been thinking what the result might be when the other servants discover I have been chosen for this task. It may precipitate more gossip."

"Gossip?" Silas frowned. "Why?"

William glanced at Clara, who met his gaze for a moment before averting hers. Now was not the time to lay her history—or theirs—bare. He had no desire to embarrass her in front of Silas by recounting the events at the market square. Neither was he anxious for Silas's inevitable questions, for he would not accept William buying a woman at auction without a number of them. "We can discuss that later. I think, Clara, that we can take measures to dampen any undue curiosity. It is late, though, and our first priority must be getting Silas to the lodge."

"Along with some food," Silas added. "I am famished."

"You look famished," William replied with a grimace. "Will you quietly retrieve bed linens and some food from the kitchens, Clara? Enough for the morning too if you can manage it. Meet us outside the servant door in a few minutes, and we will make our way to the lodge together."

Clara left the brothers alone and did as instructed. There was silence until the door had closed and her soft footsteps had retreated.

William felt Silas's gaze on him and avoided it as long as he was able. But eventually, there was nothing for it but to look at him. "What?"

Silas smiled slightly, but it had a knowing tilt. "Nothing. She seems very capable." There was a pause. "And beautiful."

William let out a sound of annoyance and strode to the table, shifting the candlestick slightly. And very needlessly.

"Do you deny it?" Silas asked.

"Of course she is capable."

"And beautiful."

" And beautiful," William conceded reluctantly.

Silas's smile grew. "Who would have thought? My stiff-as-a-poker, duke of a brother cavorting with one of the maids."

"Enough," William said. "There has been no…cavorting."

"Really?"

"Really."

The corners of Silas's mouth turned down. "Then you won't mind if I ? —"

"I most certainly will mind." The words came out more harshly than was merited, and William ignored the pointed way Silas looked at him. He took in a measured breath. "This is not a game, Silas. Your life is in her hands. "

Silas grew more serious. "I understand. And I am indebted to both of you."

"Save your gratitude until we have proven we can keep you safe."

"I have no doubts at all on that score, just as I have no doubts you will manage to clear my name."

"Silas," William said with a deep frown, "you must manage your expectations. I may have the title of a duke, but I have none of the influence with which you associate it."

"Not yet. But you will. That is inevitable."

If only that were true. "And you will bide your time until then?"

"I will bide my time." Silas motioned for them to proceed to the rendezvous point, and William hesitated for a moment, then opened the door carefully and looked down the corridor to verify they were alone.

But his mind was on his brother's words. I will bide my time . Silas had never been particularly patient. Staying cooped up in a hunting lodge went against his nature. He had always taken his liberty and ability to choose for himself seriously. It had driven William mad in the past.

But he was different now—that much was clear. William would have to hope the changes in his brother included a greater ability to stay in the background and twiddle his thumbs for an undetermined amount of time. Heaven only knew when William would have the influence necessary to sway public opinion and the opinions of his fellow peers in Silas's favor—and against Lord Drayton.

Laden with bed linens and a basket of food William couldn't imagine how she was balancing, Clara appeared outside the servant door just after them.

Silas took the basket from her arm—a gesture that appeared less chivalrous once he reached amongst the food within and began eating a loaf of bread like a savage.

Clara smiled furtively at William, who relieved her of half of the linens in her arms. The path that led to the hunting lodge was dark and carrying a lantern too dangerous, but the path was clear and well-maintained, leading William to be grateful for the second time that he employed an army of gardeners.

Between hearty bites of bread, Silas regaled them with his journey to England on a small fishing boat three nights ago. His safe and secret passage had been granted in exchange for helping the crew, who had been short one member. He had done such a fine job that the captain had offered him a position. Silas had declined, and the captain had given him a few coins from pure gratitude, which had been enough to pay for the mail coach to the village nearest Rushlake.

They finally reached the hunting lodge, where they were obliged to climb through a window, as William had forgotten to bring the key. Clara, on the other hand, had had the forethought to bring supplies for lighting a candle—something William allowed on the condition that the shutters remain closed.

He also insisted on helping Clara make up Silas's bed…until it became apparent that he was hindering rather than helping, something she was too kind to tell him. This was a task she could perform in her sleep, and he watched with a bit of wonder at her skill.

Making up a bed was not meant to be in a duke's repertoire, of course. It was too far below him. But part of William felt it was something he should be capable of, whether or not he was called upon to do it. In many ways, the higher the pedestal people placed him upon, the more inept he felt.

Clara stepped back from the made bed and put her hands on her hips as she looked around the room. "That is done, but the room is hardly satisfactory. I should have brought something to dust with."

"You must be joking," Silas said, running a hand along the linens. "This is far and beyond any bed I have slept on in recent memory. I shall sleep like a baby."

"With less crying, I hope." William strode toward his brother and pulled him into another embrace. "It is good to have you home."

"Liar," Silas said, though his voice broke on the word, his grip on William tightening. "You are wishing me at Jericho."

"Yes," William said, his own eyes moist as he pulled back. "But once you have bathed, that may well change."

Silas smiled, then turned to Clara. "He is beastly, is he not? How do you bear being employed by such a brute?"

"The money, sir," Clara replied without missing a beat.

William's brows shot up, and both he and Silas laughed aloud, caught off guard by her answer.

"Forgive me," she hurried to say. "It was wrong of me to?—"

"No, no," Silas said. "It was the perfect answer, Clara. My brother needs nothing more than a large dose of humility."

Clara's cheeks stained red.

William grinned, hoping it would reassure her he had not taken offense at her joke. Assuming it was, indeed, a joke. "As long as my need for humility never surpasses your current need for a bath, I will be content."

They bid Silas farewell, and William assisted Clara through the window. Silas shut it as silently as possible behind them.

Now nothing but a dark figure through the warped pane, he waved at them merrily as they walked away, but soon the curtains shut, and William and Clara were alone on the dark, dirt path to the main house.

The path had been more than enough for the three of them to walk abreast on the way to the hunting lodge, but now that it was just William and Clara, there was a wide berth between them. Clara's feet skirted the very edge of the path.

"An eventful evening for you," he said, hands clasped behind his back.

"Yes, Your Grace. But not more so than for you."

William smiled ruefully. "It has certainly been unexpected. You must have a hundred questions."

"It is not my place to ask them."

He glanced at her, wishing there was more light so he could see her profile clearly. "We promised one another the truth, did we not?"

She met his gaze, enough surprise in it that he was certain she had not expected him to offer her the truth.

"As the person on whose care Silas will most rely," he said, "you deserve to know the reason you have been asked to guard his secrets and mine." He took in a breath before beginning. "Silas and I have frequently found ourselves at loggerheads. He is too…free, I suppose, and I too rigid, as he mentioned. I have always felt it my duty to protect the family name and legacy, while he has been impatient with my demands."

He frowned. "In his pursuit to make his way in the world, he and my brother Anthony connected with two other men: Lord Drayton and Thomas Langdon. Together, they ventured into the world of merchant shipping. After some time, it became clear to Silas that something was amiss with the finances. He was fiercely upset over it. Langdon was the one handling the accounts for the company, so Silas's suspicions naturally fell upon him. But after talking with Langdon, it became clear Drayton was undercutting them. I was unaware of that particular development," he said grimly. "When Silas and Langdon went to confront Drayton, Drayton shot Langdon, killing him. He blamed Silas, who Drayton also claimed was the one falsifying accounts. Given Drayton's influence, Silas was obliged to flee to France to avoid the gallows."

"Good heavens," Clara whispered. "How terrible."

"And yet that is not the most terrible part." His frown deepened. "I believed Drayton. I knew how upset Silas had been, and he has always been impulsive. I believed my own brother capable of murder. I knew how angry he was about the accounts and, fool that I was, I looked up to Drayton because of his position. But Silas was guilty of nothing. I, on the other hand, am guilty of the worst sort of betrayal."

Silence followed his admission, the only sound their soft footsteps and the chirping of crickets in the nearby undergrowth. The quiet pierced him, but he suppressed the desire to look at Clara, to attempt to divine her thoughts.

"What must you think of me?" he said.

"No differently than I did before, Your Grace."

He chuckled ruefully. "Heaven only knows what that was."

There was a short pause. "What weight can my opinion possibly carry with you?"

She was right, of course. Her opinion should matter not at all. But he found that it did, and the fact that she had not countered him by offering any evidence that her opinion of him had been good? It sat ill with him, like a shirt of itchy wool.

They reached the servant door, and he turned to face her, trying to banish the unhappy thoughts.

Silas was here. He was safe. That was what mattered.

"Thank you for your help, Clara."

"It is my pleasure, Your Grace."

He gave a soft chuckle. "That may be taking it a bit too far, don't you think?"

She smiled back but said nothing, lowering her eyes as she was wont to do.

"You may rest as long as needed in the morning," he said. "I will ensure Mrs. Finch knows as much and will have her acquainted with your new duties. At the rate Silas was eating, though, he will already have made it through the sustenance you brought."

Clara smiled and met his gaze. "I will ensure he does not go without. And that he has a bath."

He chuckled, but the mere thought of her assisting Silas in such a task had William replying, "He can wash in the stream."

Clara smiled slightly, and the expression sent a flurry of something unfamiliar through his veins. "As you wish, Your Grace."

William felt a rush of gratitude that he was not obliged to shoulder this burden alone. Had it not been for Clara's trustworthiness and willingness to help, the urge to smile would have been the farthest thing possible from him at the moment.

"Rest well, Clara." He turned away and walked toward Rushlake's main door.

"It is not only the money," she said suddenly.

He stopped, then turned to face her.

"The reason I am still here," she explained.

William searched her face, trying to understand what precisely she was saying to him. From the intent look in her eyes, it was clear she felt it important to communicate.

"You asked for my honesty always," she said after a few moments. "Did you truly mean it?"

"I did."

She met his gaze, and his heart fluttered with anticipation and apprehension as he waited.

"I think you are too severe with yourself when it comes to your brother's situation, Your Grace. In fact, I suspect you are too severe with yourself in general."

A lump rose in his throat, and he forced it down. His guilt over Silas had been weighing on him for a year now. Perhaps if he had been less dismissive of Silas, things might have turned out differently. Langdon might still be alive, and Silas would never have been obliged to flee England.

"I hope you know," Clara continued, "that you may always be honest with me without fear I shall think less of you. Good night, Your Grace." She turned and walked to the door, passing through it with a quick glance over her shoulder that kept William in place for a full minute afterward.

First thing in the morning, William met with Edmund in the library. He had lain awake longer than he had hoped, trying to decide how to handle things with his friend and advisor. He disliked the idea of keeping Silas's return from Edmund.

But Edmund would insist William send Silas elsewhere, and that was something William could not do. He had betrayed his brother once; he would not do so again.

The unpleasant fact, however, was that they were harboring a fugitive from the law at Rushlake. The gossip that had circulated about William and Clara was a prime example of the danger they faced. If Lord Drayton discovered Silas was in England again, he would take immediate action to see he was silenced for good. Anyone who knew of Silas's presence at Rushlake would be considered complicit.

William had no intention of putting Edmund in that position. The less he knew, the better.

"Poor night of sleep, Your Grace?" Edmund searched William's face as he took the seat across from him.

"Simply tell me I look like a monster and be done with it, Edmund."

"Not at all. I have been worrying I rushed you into things—inviting everyone to Rushlake—and that you are losing sleep over it."

William shook his head. "It is what I want. But it shall be upon us before we know it, and if you are correct about the number of acceptances we will receive, we will require the bedrooms in the hunting lodge, which has not been in use for some time."

Edmund nodded. "I will make a visit and do an inventory today."

"That is unnecessary. One of the maids can manage that task. In fact, I was thinking that, to minimize the chaos amongst the servants, it might be wise to assign one of them to take on the preparation of the lodge."

Edmund's gaze grew more pensive, and under the sustained scrutiny, William found himself unable to suggest Clara as the one to assign the task to. Just as Clara had said, it would feel too pointed after everything.

But what was the alternative? It had to be Clara. If anyone else was suggested, William would have to put his foot down, and that would raise suspicion Silas could not afford.

"I believe you are right," Edmund said. "Given the gossip that continues to plague the servants, I wonder if the best choice might be Clara."

William opened his mouth, but no sound emerged.

Edmund scooted to the edge of his seat. "You may dislike the idea, Your Grace, but I do believe it would be best."

William tried to keep his response measured instead of jumping to agree with the suggestion. "And why is that?"

"Creating distance between the two of you may help quell more gossip. The last thing we need when the guests arrive is for their own servants to become participants in a rumor mill that will inevitably reach their masters."

William nodded, but his conscience twinged. Edmund was trying to help him while William concealed the truth—not just the truth about Silas but that William would be working together more closely than ever with Clara.

Neither was it as though Edmund's concerns were without merit. William did feel a connection to Clara. Whether that was due to the circumstances of their meeting or for the mere fact that such a connection was forbidden, William couldn't say. But last night had given him to suspect Clara felt it too.