Gabriel stared at her for a long moment. "That boy is…"
“Long gone, yes, I am fully aware as you have already mentioned on more than one occasion."
“Please allow me to assist you.” She almost begged.
He was quiet for so long she thought he'd refuse. Then, quietly: "One month?"
"One month."
"And then you still leave in spring?"
Something twisted in Clara's chest. "Yes."
"And we maintain... professional boundaries?"
"Of course."
"And you'll stop looking at me in that manner?”
“In what manner?”
"As if you believe I can be saved."
"I will make an effort to do so.”
"You're a terrible liar."
"I'll try harder."
He drained his brandy. "Fine. One month. But when it fails…and it will fail…you don't blame yourself."
"It won't fail."
"Your optimism is exhausting."
"Your pessimism is exhausting."
Clara stood, brushing dust from her skirts. “We shall start by excluding your indulging in spirits before noon.”
"That's tyranny."
"That's logical"
“I see no difference.”
“I shall require funds,” Clara said.
“For the necessaries, of course, a sufficient staff, household supplies and most definitely new attire for yourself.”
They stood there, the morning sun streaming through the dusty windows, illuminating all the work ahead of them. One month to convince the world that the Duke of Ashbourne was perfectly sane, completely functional, and absolutely not being slowly saved by his temporary housekeeper.
"Clara?"
"Yes?"
“I am much obliged to you Clara. Your support in that moment was invaluable, and I shall not soon forget your courage.”
“She was impertinent and Insufferable.”
