And Iain suspected that his own pursuit of the Leith properties had taken a step backwards with this development.
Three brandies later, he was more convinced that James Murray, Marquess of Nairn, had a sensible, knowledgeable head on his shoulders in spite of the romantic drama that had brought his wife to him.
Two more glasses of the fine brandy and Iain wished he could ask the man’s advice about Lady Clare though he had no intention of losing control of himself as Nairn had. But a man with the advantages of noble birth, inherited wealth and a good title could get away with such things while a grasping schemer like Iain could not.
After their last drink, when Iain entered his own coach to go back to his townhouse, one thing was clear to him above everything else—he needed to get his deal with Lady Clare done before the other vultures descended into their situation. She may have walked into an alliance more dangerous to everything she’d managed to accomplish since her husband’s death than one with him. For if he knew one thing, he understood predators.
He was one. The Earl of Heath was another.
Not accustomed tolazing about in bed for hours past dawn, Clare considered doing exactly that the next morning.
Though she danced only with her father, the rest of the ball had been like the ones she remembered from her first events in society. Different from the way things were done in London, Edinburghsocietywas not limited to one certain time on the calendar or to aseason. Due to the numbers of families involved, it was smaller and more intimate. Holders of titles in both countries participated in both, depending on wealth and position, depending on the locations of their houses and estates and their need to show off, be introduced to important people or even acquire a wife. Those lords in Scotland who held seats in Parliament needed to be in London when they were summoned to a session or when an issue interested them.
As Archer arranged her hair for the day and peppered her with questions about the ball, Clare was actually considering the consequences she would now face. Her father had accepted her request very quickly and that meant one thing—he would reveal his true price of the reconciliation soon. The thing she’d learned as a young girl was that everything her father did was a transaction.
Clare was looking forward to the quiet in the small parlor she used for her meals by the time she made her way down to it. Her morning coffee, the only time of day she drank the brew, was hot and dark and sweet. Sipping it, she glanced through the morning newspaper along with several popular broadsheets to see what was news this day. If she was seeking any mention of her presence at the ball last evening, well, she could not deny it if asked.
“Page three,” Samantha said. “Second column from the center, halfway down the page. ‘Lady C. makes her reappearance at the Michelmas Ball with her long-estranged father at her side’.” She tossed the newspaper on the table in front of Clare. “That is what you were searching for?”
There was silence as Samantha selected her breakfast from the platters on the sideboard. Clare chose not to have elaborate meals, especially in the morning, so a selection of hot foods—eggs, rashers of bacon, some sausages—and some breads and muffins and scones were placed for them to serve themselves. Once seated, Samantha looked at the two pots sitting on the table.
“Your coffee smells divine,” she said. Clare reached for the smaller pot at her side to offer it but was waved off. “I love the aroma. I even love the taste as long as there’s sufficient sugar and cream in it. But, alas, coffee does not love me back.”
“So, you remain with tea.”
Clare took Samantha’s cup and filled it from the teapot on her side of the table. Again, an adaptation by her household to her morning habits, the teapot—too heavy to lift when its iron ingot was in place and when filled—could be reached from her place. Tipping the silver pot, the dark amber liquid let off a small cloud of steam as it reached the edge.
She could have counted down the number of seconds she had until Samantha spoke her mind. Clare had another seven to nine seconds of quiet. She’d managed two sips of her coffee before her friend began.
“You have reconciled with the earl?”
“We are on speaking terms once more. That is all.” Clare said.
Samantha was silent for so long, slowly drinking her tea and staring out the window, that Clare wondered if she’d made an error in expecting the woman’s objections to be voiced. And then...
“What will it cost you, Clare? Can you pay his price?”
She had asked herself that question so many times since she first considered doing this. Her intentions, what she needed, was some support, not complete domination, by her father. He may have aspirations of controlling her fortune and her future, but she’d made that break from him years before. And that would not change.
“I made it clear that I was not returning home. That I will maintain my household and my businesses and my separate life.”
“So what is it worth to him? What will he gain from this? From you?” Samantha stood and walked to the sideboard. Picking up a few different pieces of toast and putting them back, switching her choices over and over until she finally just tossed them all back and faced Clare. “It took you so long to be at peace—first while Jonathan was alive and then in the more than two years since he passed. And you finally have that. You are an extraordinary woman, a woman in business, a woman helping the unfortunates. And you would give that all up? For what?”
Clare began to rise from her seat when Samantha shook her head.
“Has he made his first demand?”
“Samantha, I—”
“He will want you to marry his choice this time.”
“I am not marrying again.” Clare spoke the words softly. “That is one line I cannot cross, and my father understands that.”
“Clare,” Samantha said, kneeling down next to her chair and taking her hand. “That will not stop him from dangling you as bait to draw in all sorts of offers. Especially ones that will benefit him whether you accept the man or not.”
“Sam, if nothing else, I do know him. And I know how he acts.” Clare swallowed, forcing some memories of her father’s past actions from her thoughts now. “But, I need family.”
“Then make one of your own!” Samantha said sharply. She stood and walked away, then whirled back to face her. “Choose your own husband. Choose someone strong. Make a family that does not expect your capitulation!”
