She set down her toast, appetite fleeing. “I have not had the time yet, but I should like to.”
“I am afraid I have kept Miss Finch quite busy,” Henry cut in.
Clara’s gaze bounced between them, finally landing on Juliet. “Well, if you ever tire of Henry’s company and Charity is unavailable, do let me know. I’m always happy to take a stroll with new friends.”
New friends. The words struck a chord inside more deeply than they should have. How long had it been since someone had spoken to her with such kindness, as though she was someone worth knowing? And just how quickly would that sentiment change if this woman learned the truth of her situation?
“That’s very generous of you, Miss Whitmore,” she murmured.
Clara waved a hand dismissively, the gold bracelet on her wrist catching the light of the oil lamps. “Oh, please, do call me Clara. I daresay we’ll all be on first-name terms soon enough.”
Her throat closed. Juliet couldn’t help but miss the ease with which women of means like Clara moved through life, their days filled with tea and companionship. The type of life that had been snatched away from her thanks to her father. And it was moments like these that brought that loss into sharp focus.
“How long will you be staying, Miss Finch?” Clara asked.
She fought the urge to glance at Henry. Doing so would be a dead giveaway that her presence relied solely on his command. “It is hard to say, but I do not think it will be very long.”
Clara smiled. “Very practical of you. As my mother always says, houseguests and fish are best enjoyed while still fresh. Anything longer leaves a bad smell instead of good memories.” She laughed merrily, then engaged Henry in a conversation about some mutual friend on a neighbouring estate. She drew both her and Charity into the conversation every now and then with a comment or a question. And the tightness in Juliet’s throat turned into an ache. How lovely it was to relive her former life, if only for a few fleeting moments. How kind it was of Clara to include her.
Charity leaned close to Juliet and whispered, “She would make a fine sister-in-law, wouldn’t she?”
Juliet’s heart twisted painfully. Clara had warmth, charm, connections. As Juliet studied the easy rapport between them, she could only agree.
“Yes,” she whispered back, the word catching just slightly. “She would.”
Yet in that moment, she couldn’t help but wonder what her life would have been like if her circumstances had been different. Once upon a time, she might have had a chance to marry a gentleman like Henry. A sigh leaked out of her. That was not her life anymore.
Clara turned back to them. “Charity, are you ready for our ride?”
Henry’s jaw hardened. “I regret to say your ride has been postponed … indefinitely.”
“Oh?” Clara’s smile faltered. “Why? Is something amiss?”
He flashed a smile of his own. “Nothing to concern you.”
“Too late.” She frowned. “I am already concerned.”
Oh dear. It wouldn’t do to have this woman know about the trapline that’d thrown Henry from his horse. Juliet forced a light laugh. “You know men. Always fretting about some small thing. Would you not agree, Charity?”
“My brother is rather overprotective.” She shrugged one slim shoulder.
“There is no question that you are his pet, darling.” Clara leaned back in her chair, cocking her head at Henry. “But as I have come all the way here, I think it only fair to know why I am to be deprived of riding with your sister.”
A muscle near his eye twitched as he exchanged a glance with Juliet. She gave him a subtle shake of her head, trying to warn him of the dangers of giving too much information. A seemingly innocent conversation could turn into an unintentional weapon in circles where gossip and curiosity were constant companions.
Even so, he pressed on. “There was an incident in the woods last night. Something spooked my horse.”
Clara’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
Juliet’s stomach clenched. He should not have said anything. Revealing such a thing might cause more problems than it solved.
“Nothing to be overly troubled about.” He stretched out his legs, crossing one ankle over the other as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “But I think it best to avoid the woods for now.”
Clara’s porcelain brow furrowed, and Juliet could see the wheels turning behind those brilliant blue eyes. “Well then, if we cannot ride, perhaps a walk in the garden instead?” She turned to Juliet. “And naturally you must join us, Miss Finch.”
Juliet froze. The invitation had been so unexpectedly kind that she was momentarily at a loss for the words to turn down the woman. How exactly did one navigate the delicate balance between being a houseguest and a disgraced poacher? She looked to Henry for guidance, but before he could say anything, the door to the breakfast room opened and Mrs. Hamby, the housekeeper, stepped inside.
“Pardon me, sir, Miss Finch.” She nodded at them in turn. “There is something I believe you both ought to see.”
