Alicia looked away with embarrassment. “I am sorry, Clara. I… I do not know what I was thinking. Forgive me.”
Clara felt immediate guilt for having snapped at her friend. It was not her fault that she thought such things of the duke, and Clara had certainly not given her any reason to think otherwise.Nor has the duke given me any reason to think otherwise, for that matter.
It was two days after the Whitcombe Ball, and to say that things had taken a turn for the worse would be an understatement.
Her everyday routine had reverted to how it had been when Clara had first moved here, perhaps even worse, as the duke nowseemed determined to keep Clara at arm’s length. Before, she had felt his walls slowly breaking, and the night of the ball had seen his defenses almost shatter entirely. But one question was asked, and he had changed back to the cold, emotionless, hollow man whom the rest of the ton knew.
That is not him. He wants it to be. He is desperate for it. But I know there is more to him than that. I just don’t know why he is so insistent on keeping those walls up.
Clara’s only solace had been found in the garden. Thankfully, the wares and equipment she had ordered came that next morning, giving her a chance to dedicate all her time and energy to fixing the garden and bringing life into it. It would be a huge task. It might take months. But months she had… and then some.
As she worked, however, she continued to glance at the western tower, often spying the duke in the window watching her. When she did, he would duck away, and he wouldn’t return for some time. But he was there…He sees me. He knows I am here. He just refuses to admit it.
“It is not your fault…” Clara dusted off her dirty hands and rose from the flowerbed. Then she started toward Alicia, who took a quick step back. “I am not going to dirty you,” Clara laughed.
“Better to be safe than sorry.”
“Here…” She wiped her hands clean on her dress. Or as clean as she could. “How is that?”
Alicia narrowed her eyes. “Just don’t try to hug me.”
Clara rolled her own eyes. “And here I was, about to open up my deepest emotions to you. Now, I don’t think I will bother.” She crossed her arms and pretended to be upset, looking away.
“Clara…” Alicia winced. “I…” She hesitated… then started toward Clara. “I am sorry, and you know I am here to – oh!” she cried out as Clara spun about and pretended to grab at her. She stumbled back and almost fell, which had Clara laughing hysterically. “That is not funny!”
Clara held her sides. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Are you sure about that?”
Alicia narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, cheeks red, eyes steaming. “And to think, I was about to feel sorry for you.”
Clara stopped laughing, tilting her head and pouting. “I am sorry, Alicia. Truly, I am. The truth is…” She pressed her lips together, the humor fading, the sadness returning as it had been doing these last two days continuously. “The truth is, I could use a laugh. It has been so long now, I had wondered if I’d forgotten.”
“No, no…” Alicia’s anger left her. “Is it truly that bad?”
“It is not what you think,” Clara made sure to tell her. “I… the gossip alarms me, but I believe you over the ladies of the ton. So he must not be an evil man, despite what people say.” She lookedat Alicia, making sure she believed it. “It is more than…” She bit into her lip. “He is just so distant. So… not there. He is like a shadow, always within reach but impossible to ever get a true reading of. And worst of all…” She sniffed, unable to help herself. “He treats me as if I do not exist.”
Alicia looked caught between wanting to hug Clara and not wanting to dirty herself. In the end, she went to her, choosing to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Forgive me, Clara, but…” Her brow tightened. “Is that not what you wanted? This marriage was never going to be a warm thing. I thought you might be glad that he treated you as such?”
“I thought so too,” Clara admitted. “And for a while, I wanted it. But it is not that simple, Alicia. And the duke…” She looked to the tower as if expecting him to be watching her. “He is not what people think. Not by half.”
Alicia studied her friend. “Clara. Are you… do not tell me…” She leaned back as if in surprise. “Are you falling for His Grace?”
“What? No,” she said a little too quickly.It is not a lie. But it is not the whole truth either. As things stand, I exist somewhere in between.“It is not that I am falling for him – he has not given me a chance!” she cried, suddenly frustrated. “The other night, at the Whitcombe Ball, I saw his true self. And what was more, he sawme, Alicia. He saw me like nobody ever has.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that… I am not even sure,” she chuckled bitterly. “All I know is that this marriage can be so much more than what it is. The Whitcombe Ball was proof of it. Do I wish to fall in love with the duke? Do I think such a thing is possible? I cannot say. But what I do know is that unless he gives me a chance, and himself for that matter, this marriage is as dead as…” She looked around and indicated vaguely. “As this garden.”
Alicia studied her friend with a serious frown. Hand still on her shoulder, when she spoke, she did so slowly. “It seems to me that you have two options.”
“Which are?”
“One is to accept that the duke is as he claims – as everyone else claims, for that matter. If he is treating you like this, it is for a good reason. Ride this marriage out. Do not get close. And when the year ends…” She shrugged. “Be glad that it has.”
Clara’s shoulders slumped. The advice was smart, but it was not what she wished to hear. “And the other choice?”
“Make him see you,” she said softly. “If you think there is a chance that he can. You claim there is more to him, make him understand this side of himself. There is a good reason for this so-called side of him to come out. Personally, I do not believe it exists. But…” She smiled and gave Clara’s shoulder another squeeze. “I want to see you happy, Clara. That is all I ever wish for.”
It was easy advice to give, but harder advice to follow. How could Clara possibly coax that side of the duke out once more? It was there. She knew it was. But after the Whitcombe Ball, she sensed that his determination to hide it from her had grown beyond even what it had been previously.
