Chapter 34

34

WILLIAM

" Q uite a guest list you have managed, Your Grace," said the Earl of Ruskington.

William smiled as they both clapped after the first number of the musical that was set to precede the dancing, but his eye caught his sister-in-law's. Charlotte stood beside the door, raising her brows at him in a gesture laden with significance. She had tried to speak to him the moment they had entered the room. Lord Ruskington had derailed her plans, however, by coming up to him just then.

"It is a pleasure to welcome distinguished guests such as yourself to Rushlake, my lord," William replied politely. Distinguished the people in attendance might be, but two of the most important people in his life were missing: Silas and Clara.

He looked around at all the people so admired by so many—including by him before now. His gaze fell on Lord Ballynch, whom he had anticipated meeting but now found to be entirely unpleasant. He looked at Lord Redgrave, who sat far too close to one of Lord Ballynch's daughters, whispering in her ear. William forced his eyes away, for it sparked anger in him the likes of which he was unused to. The man was a disgrace.

His gaze traveled to Lady Cassandra and her parents, lingering on them for a time. He bore her no ill will, but his relief that he would not be obliged to marry her was intense.

In truth, apart from his own family, he found himself in a room full of people he cared little for. The admiration he had once felt had not borne the weight of deeper acquaintance in so many cases.

Conversation at dinner had been full of arrogance and petty gossip, and these were the people upon whose opinions he had been basing his entire future. They would attend some other party next week and make him the topic of gossip regardless of how he now behaved.

He would not sacrifice a future with the woman he loved on their account.

As the second piece began, he leaned over to Lord Ruskington. "If you will excuse me, I have a matter to attend to."

Lord Ruskington smiled politely, and William rose and walked to where Charlotte stood near the door.

"Finally," she said. "You must go to the lodge."

"The lodge?" William's pulse jumped.

Charlotte laid a hand on his arm. "Nothing is amiss. Far from it, in fact." She smiled knowingly. "Clara is waiting for you there."

He stared, unsure what to say—or what she meant.

"Believe me," she said, "you will kick yourself later if you do not go. If you leave now, you can return in time to open the dancing."

"I am going," he said. He wanted to see Clara more than anything just then. He hadn't any idea how they would solve Silas's problems, but with Clara and his family, they would think of something .

It was dark outside, but the moon was nearly full. William's pace was quick as he followed the path to the hunting lodge, and he covered the distance in half the usual time. The windows of the lodge were dark, making William's brow pull together. Perhaps Clara and Silas had been afraid of using candles. But on tonight of all nights, there was no need to worry, for everyone was engaged at the main house.

He opened the door and found a single candle in the entry hall.

"Clara?" he called out. "Silas?"

There was no response. No sound of movement anywhere.

He went over to the table that held the candle and picked it up, his gaze falling on a piece of paper there.

I have gone after Silas. He means to go to see Drayton. I will bring him back. I promise.

Ever yours,

Clara

Heart thumping, William tossed the note on the table and rushed out of the door and toward the stables.

What in the devil had possessed Silas to go to Underwood? William had worried he had heard Edmund mention Drayton's presence there, but when Silas had not reacted, he had hoped he was mistaken. Never had he thought his brother would be fool enough to approach the man himself, though.

He must be feeling desperate indeed.

And Clara had gone after him? She must have gone on horseback, for there was no reasonable alternative. It was dark, though, and either one of them might meet with an accident on the road to Underwood .

William's stomach turned at the thought, and he quickened his pace.

When he reached the stables, he found three stable hands in such heated argument they did not take note of his presence.

"Excuse me," he thundered over their voices.

The three of them whipped toward him, and their eyes widened. "Your Grace," they all croaked.

"I need a horse immedia—" His gaze fell upon Comet's empty stable, and a chill spread through his veins. "Where is Comet?"

The three exchanged glances, as though none of them wished to be the one to respond. A whiff of alcohol sailed over to William.

"Where is Comet?" he repeated, his tone dangerous.

"We was in the loft, Your Grace," the oldest of the three said. "Restin' a bit. We thought we had another two hours at least before anyone would need their carriages."

"I thought I heard a sound," said one of the other stable hands, not meeting William's eye. "I looked through the window and saw a lady ridin' off on Comet. When we came down, one of the other horses was missin' too."

Sick dread took hold in William's chest, then his stomach. "How long ago?"

There was hesitation.

"How long ago?" William yelled.

"A-a-a quarter of an hour, Your Grace," said the third in a voice trembling with trepidation.

"Saddle Orion as quickly as you can," William said, going to get the bridle himself.

Within minutes, he was in pursuit of Clara and Silas, trying to banish the persistent thoughts that thrust images of Clara on the ground, Comet nowhere to be seen .

How would he ever forgive himself? Or Silas?

He hadn't gone more than a hundred yards, however, when he thought he spotted movement in the dark distance. He squinted. There was definitely someone there.

As he drew nearer, it became clear that there were two someones, both of them on horseback, and he urged his horse forward impatiently.

When he had drawn near enough to be surer of their identities, a strange, relieved breath burst from him. He pulled up on the reins and swung to the ground as they too came to a stop.

"Thank heaven," he said, hurrying to Clara.

She unhooked her leg from the pommel, and William put his hands around her waist to help her down. Once her feet were firmly on the ground, he pulled her into his arms and buried his head in her hair, his throat thick.

"Thank heaven you are safe," he breathed. "Comet? You might have been…"

She pulled back and looked up at him. "She is the only horse I knew to belong to you. I feared if I took the wrong horse and one of the guests discovered it…"

William nodded his understanding, then pulled her to him again. He was too relieved to do anything else.

"Where is my assistance and fervent embrace?" Silas teased.

"I am more likely to wring your neck." William released Clara and faced his brother. "What were you thinking ?"

Silas's humor dissipated as he slipped to the ground. "I was thinking I wanted you to stop playing the martyr on my behalf."

"I have not been playing the martyr," William retorted.

"Have you not? I told you I can manage without you sacrificing yourself."

"And can you blame me for not believing you when this is your idea of managing?"

Silas shot him an annoyed look. "Perhaps it was a bit rash. But there is no harm done."

William had a great deal more he might have said, but he held his tongue and turned back to Clara. "How did you make him see sense?"

"When he realized how much harm it would do you, he came back willingly."

William glanced at Silas, who grimaced apologetically. "Implausible as I sometimes make it seem, it has never been my intention to hurt you or our family, William. But your anger is justified."

"I am only angry because I was afraid of what might happen to you."

"What might happen to Clara, you mean to say." Silas's twinkle was visible even in the dark.

"Obviously," William retorted.

They walked the horses back toward the stables, and William took Silas's horse in hand before they reached their destination. The stable hands could not be allowed to see him.

"I am sorry," Silas said as he handed off his horse to William.

William wrapped his arms around his brother. "I am, as well. I want your freedom, Silas, and I am trying to be a better brother—the type I should have been before."

"And I am trying to do the same, messy as my attempts may be." He pulled back and looked William in the eye. "Do not let Clara slip through your fingers. We will find a way to clear my name."

William swallowed and nodded, and Silas made his way toward the trees that surrounded the lodge.

William turned toward Clara, who was stroking Comet's neck. He allowed himself to admire her for a moment in the oppressive darkness.

She had put her life at risk for him and his family. Without her, tonight would have ended in disaster. He had no doubts at all on that score, whatever illusions Silas had been operating under.

Clara glanced over at him and smiled, and his heart melted for the hundredth time.

"I will take the horses to the stables," he said. "Wait here."

Clara handed him Comet's reins, and he led them around the building, then gave them into the care of the stable hands, all of whom were standing rigid and ready.

William smiled slightly. Apparently, they had learned a lesson this evening.

He hurried back to Clara, who stood in the shadow of the stable yard's walls, staring toward the house.

"There," William said with a sigh of relief.

Clara's chin raised to meet his gaze as he came before her. There was something in her eyes, but it was too dark for him to be sure what.

"What is it?" he asked.

She smiled, but her chin trembled slightly. "Nothing."

He put a hand on her cheek. "Clara…the truth. Please."

"It is so silly, though."

"What is?"

She gave an unsteady laugh and shut her eyes before meeting his again. "I allowed Mrs. Yorke and your aunt to persuade me into Mrs. Yorke's gown." She looked down and took the skirts in one hand. "I could not help but entertain visions of how you would look at me when you came to the lodge and saw me in it." She shook her head. "It was silly to think a dress and a fancy coiffure would change anything."

William took her by the hand and, without a word, pulled her out of the shadows and into the light the lanterns surrounding the stables provided. He was able to properly see her for the first time. She did not wear her usual dark dress and white apron, nor was her hair covered by a cap.

Instead, she wore a blue gown, fitted at the chest, then flowing all the way down to the grass. Her blonde hair was curled and piled at the crown, and it glistened in the light. Two pearls adorned her ears, and a string of them hung around her neck.

She was breathtaking.

"You were right, Clara," he said. "A gown and a coiffure change nothing."