But I cannot simply vanish into the walls either. I cannot spend this year being treated as if I do not exist. That was my life before I came here… never again. No matter what.
She smiled for her friend, feeling a warmth growing deep inside that told her she knew what she had to do. She did not know how she was going to do it. She did not know if it was even possible. But she would at least try.I owe it to myself. And to the duke, for that matter.
“Alicia…” She smiled for her friend. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Alicia. Anything – no!” Alicia cried as Clara grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “Clara! My dress! It is ruined!”
At that, Clara burst into laughter. It felt good to do so, and she hoped so much that it would not be the last time that she did.
Thirteen
Clara crept through the hallway of the western wing for the first time since arriving at the castle. It was much like the rest of the home, she decided quickly. Empty halls. Closed doors, each one locked. And few torches to light the way. She listened for the sounds of the staff, footsteps, idle chatter, anything to indicate that she wasn’t alone in this world. There was nothing but silence…
Still, she continued, soon finding herself outside Alaric’s office door. There, she hesitated.
Is this the most stupid thing I have ever done? He has made it so clear that he wants nothing to do with me. And where I know that is only a half-truth, what if by disobeying him I force his hand completely?
That was the fear. If she simply gave the duke space, he might soon come around as he had been doing before the ball. But if she went barging in right now, unannounced, walking whereshe had been told not to walk, who knew the damage she might cause?
But she was also sick of not knowing.
She was done being treated as less than a shadow.
Through with being ignored, she needed to be seen and noticed. Even if the consequences were dire, at least then Clara would know where she stood. And so, taking a deep breath, she knocked once on the door.
Silence at first. Then, a hesitant “Yes?”
She did not call out or announce herself, taking the question as a bid to come in. Another deep breath, shaking with nerves, she opened the door and stepped into the duke’s office.
Alaric wasn’t sitting at his desk as she suspected. He was on the single sofa, positioned before the hearth, facing the flames as he sipped at a glass of whiskey. Coat off. Sleeves rolled up his forearms. Leaning back with his legs spread open. He looked… defeated, to Clara’s eyes.
This was confirmed when he turned to see her walking into the office, and did not rebuke her with anger or frustration. He frowned as he studied her. “I thought I told you the western wing was off limits.”
“You did…” She closed the door behind herself, which only heightened the tension that sat upon her shoulders.
He scoffed and turned back to watch the flames. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you would disobey me. You…” He laughed bitterly. “You have a unique ability to frustrate me. Do you know that?”
“Disobey you?” She crept deeper into the room, close to the back of the sofa. “That would require you to speak with me first.”
Another scoff, and he took a sip of his drink. “Is that not what you wanted? I thought it was clear enough to the two of us what this marriage was meant to be.”
“As did I,” she said. “Only then…” She considered what to say and how to say it. Not to force the issue. Not to be too subtle either. A tough line to walk. “Things change. The Whitcombe Ball –”
“Was necessary, and you know why.” He had another sip of his drink, staring into the flames. “It was not a window into whatever it is you think this marriage might be. Believe me when I say it, Clara…” He sighed, and she could see his shoulders slump. “You do not want that. You might think that you do…” A shake of the head. “You should be thanking me.”
“Thanking you?” she laughed. “For what exactly? For ignoring me? For treating me as if I do not exist?”
“For saving you…” A dark chuckle escaped his lips, and she could see the disgust he held for himself. “Saving you from me. Funny, isn’t it? You asked to be saved, and that is exactly what I am doing. And now that I have, you don’t want it.”
“Do you even care what I want?”
He considered the question for a few moments. The crackle of the wood in the fire broke the silence between them, but it did not diffuse it. She stayed back from the sofa, knowing to give Alaric his distance. Where indeed he had been avoiding her for two days now, she could see that his thoughts had not been nearly as disciplined.He has been deciding something. What do you know about me? About us. And still, I do not think he is sure.
“It does not matter what you want,” he said finally. “What matters is what I want. A harsh truth. But a truth nonetheless.”
“And what is it that you want?” She took a step closer, closing the distance between them. “Tell me that. Maybe then… if I know…”
“What do I want?” He looked at her again, and she saw the pain in his eyes. Not anger. He wasn’t dismissive of her or upset that she had come to him. If anything, there was a sense of relief behind them, that continual fight as he tried to figure through his emotions and come to an answer which he assumed from the beginning he would not like.
