His reaction was strange to St. Clara. There was something cold and dark about the way he gazed at her. It was as if he saw Pippa as his possession and not as a person. It infuriated St. Clara, making his skin crawl, and he wanted to swoop her in his arms and take her away from Summerset.
“How wonderful you will be married by the end of the month, Miss Price, and to a duke. I am surprised. I thought you would never marry,” Lady Florentia said, before taking a sip of her wine, ignoring St. Clara’s stare from across the table.
Taking a gulp of his wine, he wished for something stronger to dull out the drone of Lady Florentia. The more St. Clara wasnear the lady, the more he found he did not like her very much at all.
“Miss Price has always had the patience of a saint,” St. Clara said coolly, ignoring the glares of both Wayford and Summerset.
“Always?” Lady Allendale sneered, her predatory gaze ensnaring St. Clara. “How long have you and Miss Price been acquainted?
“My niece and the duke met when they were just children.” Lady Wayford gave Lady Allendale a warm smile from across the table. “I remember they would often sneak around on little adventures.” She chuckled at the memory, causing heat to bloom in St. Clara’s chest.
“Children? I did not know the connection went back so many years.” Julia eyed her two friends pointedly before she took a dainty bite of her pheasant.
“Yes. St. Clara was the first person my niece befriended when she first arrived when she was just a girl of ten years.” Lady Wayford wiped her mouth daintily with her napkin as her kind eyes met St. Clara’s.
Her gaze shifted from her husband to Summerset, who was at the other end of the table from her. Her lips pursed, and her gaze found St. Clara’s again, awareness shocking him like he could breathe after years of holding his breath. Rubbing the sudden ache in his chest, St. Clara wrenched his gaze away from hers, taking note of her soft features that were so much like her niece’s.
“You’ve been friends since you were ten, and neither one of you informed me of such a wonderful connection?” Julia pouted out her lip like a child who had just been told she couldn’t have her way.
“There, there, darling, I’m sure St. Clara and Miss Price didn’t mean to keep important information about their relationship from you. Did you, St. Clara?” Heartford gave St.Clara a smug look, injecting himself into the conversation like an elderly matron.
Turning to Pippa, St. Clara took in her flushed cheeks and downward eyes. He knew she had never liked unwanted attention. “I’m sure there is something more entertaining to discuss than our childhood friendship.” His voice was loud, carrying across the long table.
“I for one am enthralled by the tell.” Florentia leaned forward, her nose up in the air in disgust. “I did not know your connection.”
St. Clara assessed her features. Beneath the cruelty and disgust, he saw something else in her … pain. He felt sorry for Lady Florentia Vaughn. The only way that she was happy was by belittling others.
“Tell us: what was St. Clara like as a boy?” Julia asked Pippa in a singsong voice, her curiosity and excitement clear as she bounced up and down in her chair.
He turned to Pippa, taking in the soft look that had transformed her solemn features. It was an expression he remembered fondly from days spent running between their two gardens, searching for plants and rocks. He hadn’t seen such a look of contentment expressed on her pretty face since before he’d left for university.
“He often would sneak away from his tutors to collect rocks of all shapes and sizes,” Pippa said, a small smile on her lips.
“Rocks?” Edwards asked as if this additional detail about St. Clara was interesting.
The entire dinner party listened with rapt attention, and St. Clara knew that some had their own selfish reasons for being so enamored with the tale of his and Pippa’s childhood. Only a few knew of their engagement when they were younger. The gossip amongst thetonhad not been as widespread then as it was now.Now, every page was filled with secret information on everyone. Even Pippa’s disdain for him had reached the gossip sheets.
“Yes, he had the largest rock collection I had ever seen. What was it, over two hundred?” she asked, looking over at St. Clara.
For a moment, only they existed, just as it had been when they were younger. His heart sped up, beating wildly as blood rushed to his ears. Those pools of hazel hypnotized him like they did the first day he met her. Needing to touch her, he boldly ran his fingers over her elbow that was hidden from the rest of the table.
Her breath hitched as her lips parted. He had never noticed how full and lush they were until recently. For years, he thought nothing of them, of her. Even when he promised her more, she had always been like the girl he met under a tree. Suddenly the overwhelming urge to press his lips to hers soared through him.
As the delicate fingers of her left hand laid at the base of her neck, he imagined her pulse matching his own. He wanted to touch his lips to the spot and tease it with his tongue until she called out his name.
“You had two hundred rocks?” Heartford asked, coughing into his fist, trying to hide his own laugh.
“Four hundred.” He finally forced out the words, not removing his fingers from Pippa’s elbow. His fingertips swirled around the soft creases until she finally shifted away from him.
Four hundred and twenty-seven to be precise at last count nine years ago. He had stopped collecting after she ended their acquaintance. St. Clara never found the heart to search for rocks without her. It was something they had always done together as children, and for some strange reason, he could never do it alone.
“Good Lord, man, where did you keep all those rocks?” Heartford asked, a smirk on his lips.
St. Clara wanted to change the bloody subject. He didn’t enjoy sharing his past with others. However, Pippa answered him before he could find a more suitable topic of conversation.
“He kept them in a case covered in black cloth.” She informed the entire table of his childhood habit.
A part of him wanted to be embarrassed that members of thetonknew the little hobby that had meant everything to a lonely boy. Instead, joy leapt through him. She had remembered the details of his most prized possessions. He had loved those rocks as most of them were picked out perfectly by him or his mother. When he met Pippa, they began searching together, healing together, she from her parents’ deaths and he from the loss of his mother and sister.
