“Think nothing of it,” Alaric said formally. “It was necessary, as I explained.”
“Still…” She eyed him hopefully, trying to see through the mask of coldness that he wore. “We did not have to attend. I cannot help but think a part of you was looking for an excuse to do so.” She tried for a coy smile, an effort to catch his eyes so he might see her. So his remote gaze might soften and return to his wife.
Alaric looked ahead, his posture stiff, his expression stern. “The Whitcombe Ball did much to dissuade rumors about the state of our marriage, but it was not enough. My hope is that after today, the lie will be confirmed without question.”
“The lie?”
“That we are in love and happy,” he said simply, still not looking at her. “If today goes well, this is the last time we will need to bother with such folly.” A firm nod. “It must go well.”
Her face dropped, not caring that she did not wear a smile as the first of the guests spotted them. This had already been discussed, of course. When he had called her into his study two days ago to inform her of today’s plan, he had been as rigid and distant as possible. Determined, it had seemed, for her to understand that today was to be performative and in no way indicative of how he felt about her. It was crushing to say the least.
Nonetheless, Clara had held out hope.What else do I have but hope?Hopeful that when the day came, and he saw her appear in her gown, his eyes would light up, that a smile would cross his face, and this grim determination to act aloof and distant would melt away as it had done the night of the Whitcombe Ball.
No such luck.
So it was that Clara came to the Merryweather garden party without nearly the same level of excitement she had felt at the Whitcombe Ball. For all she had tried and all she had done, the duke refused to break and let her in. If anything, he had grown even colder toward her, not so much pushing her away as throwing her. For a time there, oh, how close she had felt to being let in. But he was stubborn. He was determined. And worst of all, he was well practiced.
“Your Grace!” Through the throng of partygoers, an elderly man approached the two of them. Clara did not recognize him, but that wasn’t a surprise. “It is so wonderful of you to make it.”
“Lord Merryweather,” Alaric said with a stiff smile. “Not at all, we have been looking forward to it.”
“Is that so?”
“Greatly.”
Lord Merryweather turned to Clara. “And Your Grace…” He took her hand and gave it a kiss. “It is lovely to finally make your acquaintance. I have heard of your beauty, but I see that rumor hardly does it justice.”
“Thank you,” she said warmly. “That is very kind.”
“Tell me,” Lord Merryweather began. “How does married life suit you. It has been so long since I was freshly wed, a dream now it feels. I hope your time has gotten off to a tremendous start.”
“It has,” Alaric spoke before Clara had a chance. “We are happy and in love. It is a dream, as you said.”
“I bet it is!”
That Lord Merryweather had been comfortable enough to approach spoke volumes to how quickly Alaric’s reputation was changing. No doubt word of his congenial nature at the Whitcombe Ball had spread, confirming to many that he was not the wickedly evil man so many thought him to be.
It is a lie,Clara could not help but think. All of it. Last time, it felt so much more real that I did not even have to try to pretend. This time, it feels wrong to do so. Dishonest in ways that make me feel sick.
“Of course, it is not all roses,” Clara said with a smile. “Any marriage has its faults, as I am sure you know.” Beside her, she felt Alaric stiffen.
“Is that so?” Lord Merryweather mused.
“That is not to say that our marriage is fraught with…” She glanced at Alaric, whose upper lip had turned stiff. “…danger. Heavens no,” she laughed. “But getting used to a new home. Anew husband. Needless to say, the fairytales I read as a girl were perhaps a little exaggerated.”
“Indeed…”
“Excuse me…” Alaric smiled at Lord Merryweather as he slowly pulled Clara away. “We should not keep you from the other guests.”
“Yes, yes,” Lord Merryweather agreed. “Just wished to greet and give my congratulations.”
“And it is well appreciated.”
Lord Merryweather eyed them both curiously for a moment before turning and ducking back through the garden. As soon as he was gone, Alaric turned on Clara and fixed her with a scowl that spoke to his anger.
“What do you think you are doing?” he hissed under his breath.
“I do not know what you mean,” Clara said innocently.
