“That was a mere coincidence we ran into each other. I don’t normally roam people’s houses dressed in my night clothes,” she said haughtily.
He smiled at her amused. How he loved to see this lady fired up. Sam was tempted to say something else to push her over the edge but refrained. He stood and rummaged around the rock, looking for what had dragged him to Clara’s hidden escape in the first place. He knew the damn egg was hiding somewhere in the rock. His hands found a crevice, and he slid his fingers down until he encountered something solid. He looked back at Clara who was staring at him puzzled and flashed her a smile.
“What are you doing?”
He wrapped his fingers around the golden egg and raised it triumphantly. “The old man is always surrounded by the always changing young, but he always stubbornly stays the same.”
Clara gasped in amazement at his find. “How did you know that from that awful riddle Lady Adderly shared?”
“Because I am brilliant.”
She tilted her head, studying him intently. Sam shifted nervously under her stare, unsure why. In general, he didn’t care what lords or ladies of thetonthought of him, but Clara was different.
“Perhaps but I don’t think that is how you knew,” she stated.
He shrugged. “Lady Adderly on a previous visit pointed this location out to me, calling it the old man rock.”
Clara gasped and said, “You cheated. You had prior knowledge.”
Sam chuckled and tossed it to her. “All is fair in a scavenger hunt. I will see you around, my friend.”
He walked away, whistling a little ditty he heard at his friend’s tavern. If Clara knew the words, she would be outraged. He was tempted to look back but stopped himself. He certainly hoped she took him up on his offer of friendship. They would make great mates.
Chapter 3
Clara waited as her maid Nora applied the last touches to her hair. She squared her shoulders and looked at her appearance in the vanity mirror. Every detail was perfect. Her blue silk dress hugged her frame exquisitely. The curls gathered at the back of her head arranged perfectly. Only two curls escaped, artfully placed to trail down her neck. She sighed.
“My lady, is everything to your liking?” Nora asked.
Clara glanced at Nora who frowned at her with concern. Her maid knew that one misstep in the Duke of Claremore’s household likely meant being fired. Clara had long ago given up on having an attachment to any of her lady’s maids. Her mother found fault with them too frequently. Still, she didn’t want the girl to be upset, especially since Nora had made no mistakes.
She smiled reassuringly. “It looks perfect. Please leave me.”
Relief washed over the girl’s face. She curtsied and rushed out of the room. Clara grabbed the golden egg sitting on the edge of the vanity and spun it in her hand, smiling slightly. The rock had been the old man from the riddle and the young were the flowers and plants. It was still a silly riddle, likely unsolvable, unless like Sam, participants had prior knowledge. When she walked back to the lawn with the egg, everyone had cheered, startling her. She kept her composure and remained the Ice Princess until her eyes connected with Sam’s. He smiled broadly at her, no different from anyone else, but then he winked. Her lips had been tempted to quirk upwards and for a brief moment she understood what he meant about being mates and having secrets.
Did she want a friendship with Sam Kincaide? She shouldn’t. Still, she was tempted. He didn’t see her the way others did. Her perfect poise and haughtiness seemed to leave him unfazed. She frowned at her reflection. If a hint of an association between herself and Sam reached the scandal sheets her parents would be apoplectic. The Ice Princess couldn’t lower herself to associate with a mere commoner. She couldn’t be thought less of or her value as a tool to merge the Claremore line to another powerful family would decrease. She grimaced at her parents' cold use of her but pushed the thoughts from her mind. It was the way things were. At twenty-three, she would be entering her third and final season. Her parents had shown her off long enough, now it was time to find a husband that would enhance the family name.
Clara sighed and stood. She tilted her chin and stared at her reflection once more. Perfection. From her pale blonde hair to her expensive gown. Everyone would be awed except for Sam Kincaide, her friend.
~
Sam stood in the opulent ballroom with Jack, who scowled as he watched his wife talk with the Duke of Sinclair. Sam chuckled. “Sinclair is just chatting with her about gardens.”
“I know. I’m not worried. I’m over here with you.”
Sam rolled his hazel eyes in disbelief. “You’re very duke like tonight.”
“That is because I am a duke.”
Sam snorted. A year ago, Jack was a man bent on revenge and fighting to reclaim the title he now held. His wife had been a pawn in his plan but had thrown everything off track when Jack fell for her. Now they were so sickeningly in love, if Sam didn’t adore his sister-in-law, it would be irritating. He was happy for his brother but still amazed that he had fallen so hard.
His eyes scanned the room taking in the lords dressed in their finest peacock wear and the ladies swathed in elegant fabrics ranging in colors from the palest pink to the darkest blue. Those dresses revealed so much about a lady. A lady attired in ruffles was likely an innocent and seeking a husband. They were the easiest to pick out and the ones Sam avoided the most. Not that their mommas sought him out for their daughters. As an American without a title, he was at the bottom of anyone's marriage list, and that was fine by him.
With other ladies it was a little more difficult, but the symbolism was still there. A specific color could be their lover’s favorite, the quality could show their status, and the style or daringness could show where their mind was. Yes, so much could be determined by a lady’s dress, and they were all well aware, Sam thought, smiling wryly. It was one of the few ways ladies had to express themselves.
His eyes came to a stop on a group of ladies, chatting on the other side of the room. His Ice Princess stood with them but even within the crowd she stood apart. Her bearing impeccable, highlighting the silky blue fabric that hung daintily from her slender shoulders. She delicately held a cup of punch as she nodded in agreement to something one of them said. The lady she spoke with beamed at her, clearly happy to have Clara’s attention. Her pale blonde hair was gracefully piled on top of her head. Sam longed to see it loose around her shoulders like the night they were in the alcove.
“Why are you staring at those ladies? They are far too innocent for you?”
