Iain Buchanan—tall, dark and dangerous—strode into her mind just as he’d strode into her life. Boldly. Sexually. With his impertinent humor and clever mouth. She shivered at the thought of him in her bed, claiming his marital rights. Claiming... her.
“Aye, like him. He would stand up to your father. Counsel you in business issues.”
“The man I marry will control all my properties and goods, Sam. Something I am not interested in giving over to anyone.”
“Unless your marriage contract says otherwise.”
“Sir Iain Buchanan would not barter away the rights he would have as my husband.” Clare laughed aloud—a harsh one—not born in humor. “Not considering his relentless pursuit of them.”
“Clare, give him what he wants and keep the rest. You can still—”
“I cannot.”
Clare walked to the sideboard, moving plates and bowls around, trying to ease her misgivings.
“Cannot or will not, Clare?” Sam appeared at her side. “Women have so little leverage, but you are blessed with more than enough to protect what you want.”
“You do not understand,” Clare said, her throat tightening with tears and guilt.
“I do not. You are holding onto those particular buildings with no rational explanation. You, even Sir Iain, own many other blocks that could fit your purposes.” Samantha stood back. “So, nay, I do not understand. But I never had a love like the one you shared with Jonathan.”
“And I owe it to Jonathan to complete his last project.” Clare dashed away the tears. “Our last project, Sam. It will be his legacy.”
“I did not mean to ruin your triumphant return to the bosom of your family and to society’s ranks. I am going over to the school now. Will I see you there later?”
“I will.”
Samantha left the room and Clare refreshed her cup of coffee.
Her friend had given voice to the heart of the matter. It was the same question that her secretary and her man of business and her solicitors had asked but in softer, subtler ways. And as Iain had asked in his brash manner. And there was no way to explain to them because she was still mired in guilt over it. That it was less about her love for her late husband than it was her deep guilt over her feelings about him just before he’d died. eventual regrets for having married him.
Clare could not tell anyone the truth of it—that she and Jonathan had realized they both regretted their marriage. Being held up as some kind of courageous woman by Iain for breaking from her family, being admired by many for her bravery in following her heart and being respected for her work with the poor and unfortunates were all parts of the ongoing lie she lived.
For no matter what others believed, Clare was a coward. A fool who had made bad decisions worse and who, even now when she knew she wanted to do things right, did not have the courage to admit it.
Chapter Thirteen
“This just arrivedfor you, my lady.” The footman held out the tray and Clare knew the sender immediately. “The earl’s footman is waiting for your answer just outside.”
It had taken her father only hours to begin exactly what she’d warned him not to do—find suitors for her hand. Breaking the wafer and opening the letter, Clare read his succinct invitation. He had arranged a gathering this evening, at his townhouse, she could bring a companion or plan to remain overnight.
There was little chance of Samantha coming along, as opposed to Clare’s reconnection with her father as she was. Caro had an engagement this evening with her husband, so they would not attend. In a way, that was better.
“Thank you, William. Tell the man I will not be long.” David sat nearby and watched her after William left. She shook her head. “I will write it.”
She would not refuse her father, but neither would she allow him to pressure her into a marriage she did not want. He could invite whomever he wished, and she would speak with them, be polite, if not friendly, depending on the man and then simply go home. Though last night had been a late one, she would leave there at a decent time.
Writing her reply, she nodded to David. He stood and took the missive to her father’s footman in the foyer.
As the day passed, she worked with Mrs. Dunbar and was alarmed that several more children had stopped attending in the most recent weeks. While her attentions had been turned exclusively to her own concerns. She asked to have Chalmers check into the matter once more. They’d lost a child here and there, but over the last few months, it had escalated. It was reaching such a number that it was possibly a matter for the police’s attention now.
Hours later, as she arrived at her father’s townhouse, she was no closer to discovering why so many children were not coming to the school.
“I did notexpect to see you here, Sir Iain.”
Of all the possible men to be in attendance, his presence shocked her. Her father had only considered those men with hereditary titles when he’d begun seeking a husband for her the first time. He’d not been interested in money over titles at that time.
“Clearly your father values my opinions, Lady Clare.”
