Edward had known men like that --- had sat across from them at dinner tables and in the chambers of Parliament without ever thinking to challenge them. It was simply the way of things among families of standing, and he had accepted it without much thought.
But watching Clara refuse --- watching her stand there, small and dignified and utterly immovable, with her brother looming over her and half the room pretending not to listen --- had stirred something in Edward that he could not quite put back to rest. She had not asked for permission. She had not waited for someone to rescue her. She had simply spoken the truth of what she wanted, clearly and without apology, and let the consequences fall where they may.
It had been, he reflected, exactly the sort of thing Lady Alice would have done.
And that thought brought him round to the question he had been circling for weeks now, the one he kept picking up and setting down again like a letter he could not quite bring himself to open.
What was he going to do about Lady Alice?
He had hesitated because the timing was wrong. She was consumed with helping her cousin and he had been consumed with helping Josiah, and neither of them had the attention to spare for courtship. But that was not the whole truth, and Edward was honest enough with himself to admit it. He had hesitated because he was afraid. Afraid that she would laugh at him, or worse, that she would look at him with that sharp, appraising gaze of hers and find him wanting. Afraid that she would see through his title and his estate and his carefully cultivated composure to the uncertain man beneath, the one who had never quite believed he was equal to the life he had been born into.
But Josiah had been afraid too, and it had not stopped him. Josiah had endured months of separation, had faced Lord Tyrone's wrath, had weathered Clara's forced letter and his own broken heart, and still his love had not wavered. If his friend could show such courage, such determination, could Edward do any less?
He stopped by the fireplace, his reflection staring back at him from the mirror above the mantel --- a man he barely recognised, his eyes bright with an emotion he had spent weeks trying to deny. Tomorrow, he would stand by Josiah's side as the confrontation unfolded. He would do his duty as a friend and witness.
But when it was over --- when the truth was revealed and everyone's futures were settled --- Edward would find LadyAlice. He would tell her how he felt. Not with the practised ease of a man proposing a sensible arrangement, but with the stumbling honesty of a man who had been entirely undone by a woman who corrected his historical facts in public and made his heart race with a single accidental touch.
It was, he realised with a small smile tugging at his lips, exactly the sort of reckless romantic gesture he had always told himself he would never make.
Moving to his writing desk, Edward pulled out a sheet of paper and uncorked the ink, the sharp scent of it filling his nostrils. He would write to Josiah first, confirming his attendance tomorrow.
And then he would spend the rest of the evening trying to find the right words to say to Lady Alice. Whatever happened tomorrow, he would not let this chance slip away.
21
The garden behind Lady Alice's townhouse was quiet at this hour, the only sounds the distant clatter of carriage wheels on the street beyond and the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. Clara stood beneath the old oak tree, her cloak pulled tight against the chill, the rough bark pressing into her back as she leaned against the trunk. Her heart was pounding and she could not seem to make it stop, no matter how many steadying breaths she took.
She should not be here. If Tyrone discovered she had slipped out, there was no telling what he would do, especially after this evening's public humiliation at the soiree. He had not spoken a single word to her in the carriage home, his silence more frightening than any of his threats had ever been.
But she could not face tomorrow without seeing Josiah. She could not walk into that drawing room and confront both of her brothers without first hearing his voice and feeling his hand in hers. Tomorrow would bring the truth, and the truth, she was beginning to understand, would not be kind.
The garden gate creaked open and there he was. Clara's breath caught as he came through the gate and his eyesfound hers immediately, his expression softening with such undisguised relief at the sight of her that her own eyes burned in response.
"Clara." He crossed the distance between them in three strides, his hands finding hers. His fingers were warm despite the cool evening and she clung to them, feeling her composure begin to crack at the edges now that she was finally with someone before whom she did not need to pretend. "You should not have risked coming."
"I could not stay away." She squeezed his fingers and tried to smile. "Tomorrow, everything changes."
"For better." His voice was firm, certain in a way she could not quite match.
"Mayhap." She let out a long breath, looking down at their joined hands rather than at his face. "I keep thinking of Miss Jennings. Of what she told us, of how she wept. And then I think of Thomas's letters --- how he wrote to me with such feeling, how he spoke of a lady he had begun to think well of." Her throat tightened. "And all the while, he was the one who had wronged her. He was the one who made her promises and then cast her aside. How could he write to me of shame and suffering when he himself was the cause of it?"
Josiah was quiet for a moment, his thumbs moving gently over her knuckles. "You loved him very much," he said, carefully.
"I did." The admission cost her something, she could feel it --- a small, painful shifting in her chest. "Of my two brothers, Thomas was always the one I felt closest to. David was always commanding, always determined to have his own way, but Thomas was kind and quiet and I thought --- I truly thought --- that he was good." She shook her head. "And now I must stand in a room with him tomorrow and hear him try to explain what he did to that poor woman, and I do not know if I can bear it."
"You can." Josiah released one of her hands to tilt her chin up, gently, so that she was looking at him. "You are the woman who stood in the middle of a crowded soiree this very evening and announced our engagement whilst your brother fumed and Lord Atherstone gaped at you like a landed fish." The corner of his mouth lifted. "I do not think there is anything you cannot bear, Clara."
She could not help but laugh at that, even though it came out rather watery. "Lord Atherstone did look rather like a fish, did he not?"
"A very affronted fish." He was smiling properly now, the warmth of it reaching his eyes, and Clara felt some of the tightness in her chest begin to ease. "I confess, I had every intention of stepping forward to announce our engagement myself but you were so magnificent that I could do nothing but stand there and admire you."
"You did stand there for rather a long time."
"I was enjoying the spectacle." His smile faded to something gentler, more serious. "Clara, I have been thinking a great deal about Miss Jennings and about what your brother --- what Lord Tyrone --- chose to do when he discovered Thomas's behaviour."
Clara looked at him, waiting.
"When I was pacing outside the cottage, after you went back inside to speak with her alone, I found myself thinking that Lord Tyrone's actions were not entirely without reason. A Marquess has his family's reputation to consider and Miss Jennings is a paid companion from a family that has already suffered one disgrace. It would have been..." He paused, as if searching for the right word. "Logical, I suppose, for Tyrone to send Thomas away quietly and provide for Miss Jennings rather than insist upon a marriage that would lower the family."
