Sam chuckled, admiring her more. A door opened, and they both froze. Someone shuffled down the hallway. Sam reached over and pressed a finger to her lips. Her eyes widened in shock and outrage. He winked at her, and she glared at him, her skin turning red with anger. Who would've thought the Ice Princess had such a temper? Scowling at him, she grabbed his finger and twisted it slightly. He winced but remained silent. It would do no good for them to be discovered hiding out in an alcove together.The steps came closer to the alcove, and Lady Clara’s eyes widened in alarm. Whoever was out there was probably only interested in getting back to their room. The likelihood of them being found was slim. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, having a little fun. She glared at him menacingly. The steps continued down the hallway, and she let out a sigh.
“Ahh... and here I thought, Lady Clara, you were trying to trap me into marriage,” Sam said, knowing he was the last person she would trap. His adoptive brother may be a duke, but Sam’s blood was as common as could be. Families like Lady Clara’s made sure to keep their daughters as far away from him as possible.
She snorted. “That is absurd, Kincaide. I was just trying to get back to my room.”
He raised a skeptical brow at her, and she stomped her foot in annoyance, delighting him. This lady was not what he expected. In all the events he had seen her at, she had never shown a hint of any emotion.
“You can’t really think that? I have been stuck in this alcove waiting for you to say goodbye to Lady Hawley. How do you tolerate that laugh?”
She slapped her hand over her mouth, horrified by what she said. A bark of laughter escaped Sam before he could contain it. Lady Clara definitely wasn’t what he expected.
She drew her shoulders back, composing herself. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Kincaide, I am tired. Have a good evening.”
She brushed past him out of the alcove, practically racing to her room. Sam watched her retreat, both amused and bewildered by his encounter with the Ice Princess.
~
The next morning, ignoring how exhausted she was, Clara raced her horse Tully across the field. Racing Tully was her escape from everything, including her own distracting thoughts. She frowned against Tully’s neck as a vision of Sam Kincaide popped up in her mind. Why was she thinking of him? She urged Tully faster and embraced the feel of the air rushing over her. Her hair started to shake loose of her pins and still she didn’t slow down. Her frown turned to a smile as her thoughts dropped away, and she focused solely on her ride. As they reached the other side of the field, she brought Tully to a slower trot, patting her gently. “Good girl.”
Her sister Diana came up behind her and said, “Well, you’re in a mood this morning.”
Clara brought Tully to a full stop before folding her hands on her lap daintily. She could feel Tully beneath her, still ready to gallop. She rubbed the side of her neck in agreement, wishing they could go for a longer, faster ride. How she yearned to throw her leg over her and ride astride, but she wouldn’t dare on Adderly’s land. Those rides were only for when she knew she was truly alone. “I have no idea what you mean,” she responded primly to Diana.
Diana lifted a haughty brow in disbelief. “You were riding as if your life depended on it.”
Clara snorted, patting Tully on the side of her neck. “Nonsense. One can’t ride with such abandon, side-saddle.”
Clara smoothed down the skirt of her sapphire blue riding dress, frowning at a wrinkle. She hated wrinkles. Once satisfied it was gone, she returned her hands back to her lap. She glanced at her sister so similar to her, both sitting ramrod straight, both in the finest garments, and both without a hint of emotion on display. Years of training from their parents had made them both ladies all others tried to emulate.
“Are you worried about who Mother and Father want you to marry?” Diana asked quietly.
Clara imagined she should be worried, but she’d learned long ago that distressing herself over things she couldn’t control was pointless. Her parents would choose an acceptable husband for her and that would be the end of it.
“I wish we could protect you more. I have asked Mother countless times who she and Father are leaning towards, but she keeps stating it isn’t my concern,” Diana said, her voice cracking slightly.
Clara frowned at her sister. It wasn’t like Diana to be emotional. “It’s fine. I promise I will be able to cope with whoever they choose.”
Diana bit her lip before taking a deep breath. Clara was shocked to see her so upset. “You and Hensley have done everything you can for me, and I am very aware that Mother and Father only see my marriage as a way for the family to advance. I accepted my fate long ago. I have no illusions or fantastical dreams about any of it.”
“I hope it is Sinclair and not Dolan,” Diana said.
The dream of landing the Duke of Sinclair had been all Clara and Diana talked about over the past year. The problem was, Sinclair seemed to show little interest in finding a respectable wife. Clara’s parents put her in his path every opportunity they had. He was always polite, but nothing more. Clara shivered. That left the Marquess of Dolan, an old family friend, closer to her father’s age than her own. Both men were highly respected and marriage to either would be considered a great alliance for her family. Yet—although she couldn’t put her finger on what it was—something about Dolan made her nervous. He came off cold and had little patience for those outside their station.
Another vision of Kincaide and his charming smile flashed in her mind. Her cheeks heated slightly. Why was she thinking of him? Infuriating man.
“I wish there was someone else,” Diana said earnestly.
Clara shook the thoughts from her head. She wished that as well, but it looked more and more like it would be Dolan. She was happy at least Diana had ended up with Hensley. Two years ago, when Diana became betrothed to him, she’d despaired about her parents' choice. Her parents’ priority had not been on finding a suitable husband or a happy marriage for her but solely on merging the family line with another highly regarded family. She pressed her lips together in distaste, thinking about her parents' always present concern that the family line not become tainted.
Both Clara and Diana had been shocked by their selection of Hensley. He was almost as round as he was tall and spent most of his time with his head buried in paperwork for his different ventures. Slovenly appearances and the perception of working were both things their parents found highly distasteful. But Hensley had one thing that they couldn’t resist. He would be a duke once his father died. The union had been negotiated by Clara’s father and Hensley’s father, who had been worried his son would never find a bride.
After years of her parents’ lectures on the importance of appearance and presentation, Diana had been horrified about the match. Yet, once they were married, Hensley had shown Diana such kindness that Diana quickly became fiercely devoted to him. Clara swallowed a lump in her throat, startled that she, herself, was getting emotional. She was happy for her sister. She really was. Clara just knew that she would not be as lucky with her husband. Still, she didn’t want Diana to worry. Diana had her own concerns to think about. Clara looked at her sister's flat stomach and smiled. Hensley and Diana were having a baby.
“Do not fret. Whoever it is, even if it is Dolan, they will likely grow tired of me and ignore me. Then I can do as I like.”
Diana looked at her dubiously. Clara, not wanting to focus on who her husband would be, said, “Let's not talk about this anymore. We need to get back and prepare for the day.”
She urged Tully forward and raced one more time across the field, letting the wind and movement push all thoughts from her mind.
