"I said not now!"
He slammed the library door behind him. Edmund and Clara stood in the entrance hall, staring at the closed door.
"Well," Edmund said finally. “That was a most startling occurrence.”
“Does she have the power to carry out her threats? Can she have him declared incompetent?"
"Possibly. She has connections, money, and influence. And Gabriel has been... obviously struggling."
"He's not incompetent."
"No, but he's not exactly flourishing either."
Clara straightened her shoulders. “ We have a mere four weeks to render him presentable.”
Edmund turned to stare at her. "We?"
"You're his friend. I'm his..." She paused, not sure what to call herself.
"Yes, you certainly are his something," Edmund agreed. "The question is what, exactly?"
"Employee."
"Employees don't hold their employer's hands during family confrontations."
"It was a humanitarian gesture."
"It was intimate."
"Edmund…"
"I'm not criticizing. I'm observing. And what I observe is that you care about him."
"He's infuriating."
"That's not a denial."
"He's impossible."
"Still not a denial."
"He's…"
"The boy you used to meet in the garden?"
Clara froze. "How did you…"
"He talked about you. At Eton. Before he stopped talking about anything personal at all." Edmund's expression was serious now. "You're Clara from the roses."
"That was a long time ago."
"Not so long that you've both forgotten."
"We were children."
"You were friends. Real friends. The kind that's rare and precious and…"
"And over. It's over."
