He saw that in her eyes the moment it left his lips, in the narrowed glare. He swallowed it. “There are many ways that Lord Robert and I—and Lady Newbury—can help you without—”
God help him.
Robert snorted, and Rose leaned over and grasped Michael’s forearm. “Lord Michael is merely concerned—as we all are—that we move with caution regarding the duke.”
And the glare lifted. Clara’s eyes widened and her face softened. “Thank you, Lord Michael. I know words are not always your friends, and I do appreciate your concern and consideration.”
Michael wanted to kiss her right then and there. He stood and stepped toward her, his hand out, relishing the look of adoration in her eyes as her gaze followed him upward.
“Michael!” Rose’s hiss stopped him cold.
“Good heavens, boy,” Robert said. “I am going to have to lock you in the stable.”
“Definitely not a good idea,” muttered Radcliff.
They all stared at the maid, who curtsied abruptly. “My lord.”
Clara snickered, then covered her mouth.
Rose’s sharp gaze moved from Radcliff to Clara. “Is there something else we should know?”
“Nothing.” The word came from Clara and Michael at the same time.
Robert burst out laughing, then stood and offered his arm to his sister-in-law. “Perhaps we should see Lady Clara to the door.”
The ladies stood, and Michael offered his arm to Clara. She took it, peering at him as they walked, stumbling only once as they neared the front door. His grip tightened, and she whispered her thanks as she found her balance again. Their goodbyes were polite and distant, perfectly proper, but he watched as she and Radcliff descended the front steps.
“One of us should have gone with them,” he said to Robert, who watched him as closely as Michael watched the women.
“If any woman in this city could cross Berkeley Square without a male escort, it would be Lady Clara Durham. In fact, I suspect she has already made that trip more than a few times.”
“Robert.” Rose’s voice held a dark warning. “Do not even hint at such a thing.”
This time Robert’s smile held an unexpected tenderness. “If you have not noticed, dear sister, Lord Michael intends to marry her.”
Rose’s sharp gaze shifted to Michael, who merely nodded as he finally shut the door. She looked both brothers up and down before taking a deep breath. “Well, I know the four men in this house have something nefarious in the works—”
Robert put a palm against his chest. “Nefarious?”
Rose did not pause. “But I suggest you leave it to the ladies for the next step with the duke and this detrimental betrothal.”
“And that is because...?”
Rose’s smile held a twist of mischievousness. “Because you know the business and the gambling. But we know what the servants have to say.” She turned a slight glower on Michael. “And as we just saw, the servants know everything.”
Chapter Fourteen
Saturday, 20 August 1825
Beckcott Hall
Half past ten in the evening
Clara put thefinal touches on three letters to go out the next day, sealed them, then spent a few minutes making a list of the questions her mother wanted to see as well as jotting down the benefits of a marriage to the Duke of Wykeham. She had the deficits already memorized—and that list grew by the day. She had known visiting Lady Newbury would be a risk—her father had forbidden her setting foot in Ashton House ever again—but Clara felt quite relieved she had made the call. As expected, the Ashtons knew where most of the secrets were buried.
But in order to make her parents believe she had changed her mind and had become enthusiastic about her upcoming nuptials, she had to be able to sing the man’s praises. Fortunately, dinner this evening had been a quiet affair, with her mother more interested in informing the earl about their upcoming call on the dowager duchess and the next appointments with Madame Adrienne than letting Clara express an opinion. Tomorrow would be the perfect time to begin that plan, however.
She glanced down at the first question and winced. Awful question but it might enliven the discussion if the conversation turned sallow.
