“Father, I am –”
“Silence!” he bellowed. “You have done enough, and now it is on me to save you. To save myself,” he growled. “As I see it, we have two options – two which you should be grateful for!” He widened his eyes at Clara as if she might rebuke. “The first is to wait forthis to blow over, which is unlikely. And by the time it does, you will be a withered old maid, good for little, a burden until the day I die. Or the second…” He took a deep breath. “If I were to send you to a convent to take up residence with the church –”
“Father, no!” Clara cried, not caring if it angered him further. “You cannot do that!”
“I can and I will,” he snapped. “Although it will be seen as an admittance to some wrongdoing, it will also be viewed as an acknowledgement of repentance. If I am lucky, it will do much to save our name from the stink that you have brought upon it.”
Clara was left speechless. Her world was crashing down around her. Standing there as she was, her father continued to speak, but she did not hear a word.What does it matter what he says? The decision is made, and I know him well enough to know that fighting him would make things worse.
But how could they possibly be worse? Although she did not truly enjoy her life in its current state, it was still a life that had been her own. A life that had existed with hope, for so long as she was the daughter of a lord, there had always been a chance that one day things might improve. That she would marry. That they would fall in love. That she would find happiness in a world of darkness. A dream… one that she was now forced to wake from, faced with a reality from which there was no escape.
She slunk from her father’s office moments later, trying to reckon with what had just happened. If there was any chance of changing his mind.No, he will not change his mind, sheadmitted sullenly.The only way is if he has no choice but to change it. But who could force such a thing? No one in this world is capable of…
Clara stopped short. Her eyes widened as the realization struck her. Her heart swelled, and hope broke through the gloom. An idea had come to her suddenly. A most outrageous and daring one, beset by danger and likely to make things even worse.
Worse… no, nothing could be worse. And that alone was why she knew that she had no choice but to try. She was not such a weakling as people thought. There was some fight in her still. Fight she would need if she was to do this, if she was to stand a chance.
I have lost my mind. Better that than losing my life…
Alaric Wolfe, the Duke of Ravencourt, stormed through his castle as his anger brewed to levels of such rage that he truly wondered if the walls about him might suddenly collapse. Each step taken seemed to shake the ground, and the sound of thunder rolling in the distance could only have been caused by his wrath.
I was a fool to have left here. A fool to have shown my face in public after all this time! What good could it have done! Perhaps I deserve what has happened, for misery and torment suit me like a well-tailored suit.
In Alaric’s hand was a crumpled letter that had been delivered an hour earlier. It was written to him by a friend, the Duke of Eastmoor,warning of the rumors that had begun to circulate about the ton. They were concerned about his actions at the Ashworth Ball, why Lord Ayles had been seen fleeing from him, and what his intent had been concerning the Lady Tremayne.
Alaric was used to rumors being spoken about him. That was nothing new. What frustrated him was that he had worked so hard to be forgotten and ignored by the ton these past few years, actions that were now for nothing! He had opened himself to the scathing judgment of his peers, and he knew that these rumors would just be the beginning.
And so, he stormed through his empty manor in a temper. There were but a handful of staff who remained in his employ, and they hid from him as was the smart decision.
They fear me. Which they are right to do. The reasons are wrong, but the result is correct.
It was because the staff hid that when Alaric heard someone hammering on the front door of his manor, nobody moved to answer. He was walking through the foyer when he heard it, coming to a stop and glowering, for he was certain it must be a nosy peer come to snoop out the truth. For years, he had locked himself away, avoiding visitors and guests because they knew they were not welcome. And now, a single night out and all his hard work had been dashed to pieces.
The hammering continued, and Alaric roared with anger as he stormed across the foyer and threw the door open. His intent was to scare whoever had come, a warning for others not to do the same. But as the doorway swung open, and when he saw who was standing on the other side, Alaric found himself struck speechless.
“Oh, good, you are home.”
It was Lady Tremayne. Perhaps the last person he had expected to see. She was wearing a thick cloak pulled over her head, shivering from the cool winds of the storm, and her white face stood out from the dark fabric of the cloak. Her eyes were wide and dark—with fear, no doubt, terrified by where she had found herself. But it was undoubtedly her.
“You!” Alaric gasped. “What are you…” He looked outside, checking that she was alone. “What are you doing here!”
“I am not sure. I…” She grimaced. “I had no other choice.”
If Alaric didn’t know any better, he might have said he was dreaming. He had taken an assessment of Lady Tremayne at the ball, deciding quickly that she was a typical lady of the ton, not worth his time, and worth even less of his attention. Oh, no doubt there was an edge to her, and he had been impressed that she’d braved his presence where nobody else would dare.Still, a wallflower by any measure.
As to why he had chosen to save her on the balcony? That, Alaric could not say. It was his guilt, he supposed, that he had turnedher away so quickly. She had come to him for help, and he had dismissed her—not because he thought her foolish, but because he was too cowardly to help.
She was wrong about me, for I am no savior. I have proved that well enough already…but lingering memories of his past mistakes forced his hand, and he felt a desire to prove them wrong. Which he had done, only for the consequences to do as they so often did: wreak havoc and destroy.
“Any choice but coming to see me was a better choice,” he said.
She shook her head. “You would not say that if…” She trailed off with uncertainty. Then she looked past him, fear present in her eyes, but mixed with a sense of determination that told him she would not go easily. “Might I… may I come in?”
“Surely, you are not serious?”
“I wish I were not. But as I said, I have no choice.”
“You cannot be seen here,” he warned her, moving to block the door further. “Do you have any idea the trouble your actions have caused me?”
