“It is almost ten o’clock.”
“Help me to get washed and dressed so I can receive them. No, first run down to Mrs. Finley and say she is to most definitely put them in the morning room with breakfast, and if my grandmother refuses, then in the library. I will be down soon.”
Jocelyn ran off. Clara found her nightdress among the tangled sheet and coverlet and pulled it on. Was it her imagination that the whole bed carried a scent this morning? She sniffed, then flushed. There was no mistaking what had happened here.
She rushed to the dressing room. Hot water already waited and she began to use it, not waiting for Jocelyn.
Jocelyn returned and grabbed a towel. “They may be coming up here. Mrs. Finley is holding her ground, but the dowager is staring her down and I do not think it is a fair match.”
Why, of all the—“Do something with my hair, quickly.”
“I cannot manage more than a knot now.”
“Then make a knot. But first close the door to my bedchamber. Bolt it. If my grandmother so much as takes a step in that direction, you are to throw yourself against the boards and refuse to move no matter what she threatens.”
The knot was barely done when they heard voices on the stairs. Jocelyn ran to the wardrobe, grabbed an undressing gown, and threw it across the chamber to Clara. Clara drew it on and buttoned it with shaking hands.
“My good woman, you will move, or my son will move you,” the dowager threatened darkly, her voice booming right outside the dressing room door.
“I am telling you she was still abed and instructed me to ask you to wait until she dressed, milady.”
“I do not wait on my grandchildren. Rather the opposite. Can you believe your sister’s boldness, Theo? She intrudes on my chambers while I dress, but I am not to do the same, it appears. We will have none of that. Stand aside, I say.”
“Go and invite them in through this door, Jocelyn, before Mrs. Finley is cast down the stairs.” Clara did not like her grandmother’s tone. Not at all.
Jocelyn opened the door and stood aside. Grandmamma sailed into the room with a rumpled and yawning Theo in her wake.
Any sternness left her grandmother once she set eyes on Clara. A happy smile stretched her face. She came over and bestowed a rare kiss on Clara’s crown. “No, do not get up. Tell your maid to continue if she was about to do something with that terrible hair. A knot? I would be the first to say you are due for a new style, but that is not it.”
“Good morning, Grandmamma. Theo.”
Theo grunted. As soon as their grandmother sat, he threw himself onto a small divan and stretched out his legs. Grandmamma whacked those legs with her parasol. “Show some respect, Theo. We are not at some tavern. Forgive him, Clara. I seem to have had him woken not long after he returned from a night of doing who knows what.” The way she skewered Theo with a glare suggested one who knew what, or at least suspected.
Clara was not above seeking an alliance for what she thought would be an unpleasant conversation. “He is young, Grandmamma. You cannot expect him to behave like a fifty-year-old man.”
Theo sent her a glance of gratitude.
“Fortunately he also lacks the discretion of one, or I might have never learned how your courtship with Stratton progresses apace. Well done, Clara. Well done, indeed.”
Clara glared at Theo. He shrugged, helplessly.
“What did Theo say?”
“In his delight and relief at seeing your rendezvous with Stratton in the park, he told me all about it.” She leaned forward. “And I do mean all, Clara.All.”
“Yes, we rode in the park together. I did not think you would want me to cut him. Nor is rendezvous an accurate way to describe it.”
“You do not have to dissemble with me, dear. I know about accidental meetings that are not true rendezvous.” She gave a big wink.
Clara dared not respond. She could not be sure what Theo had seen or not seen. She had assumed that after he spoke with them, he busied himself with his friends. But what if, on seeing them ride toward privacy, he had followed? What if he had seen more than riding and talking? What if he had seenall?
She peered at her brother, hoping to discern just how bad her situation might be. Unfortunately, he had dozed off.
“Let him sleep,” her grandmother said. “Now, tell me. Has Stratton given you any valuable gifts?”
Only a very fine horse and a night to remember for the rest of my life. “What do you mean, valuable? Like a nice lace handkerchief?”
“Oh, my, no. You are so very green. With your advancing years, I often forget that. Valuable like expensive jewelry.”
