He went instead to find his wife.
He found her in the great hall inspecting Mr. Russell’s sketches and making quick computations on a piece of foolscap. Their two guests were scooping up mutton stew with hard bread—the same meal everyone had had for weeks now—while alternately nodding or shaking their heads in response to some question from Clara. Neither looked happy to be there while Clara seemed completely oblivious to their discomfort.
“No, no,” Clara was saying as she wrote over one of Mr. Russell’s drawings. “This should be here. And this part is all wrong.”
“Clara,” Liam interrupted. Then he had to say it louder to get her attention. “Clara! I believe our guests would like to rest.”
She looked up. Her hair was askew, her mouth was pursed in a confused frown, and her mind was clearly on whatever computations were running through her head. And she looked blissfully happy.
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. She had her friends and an architectural puzzle to solve. Forget the management of his people, forget the fact that her friends right now wished to be in a bed, forget that he had given her physical bliss every night of the last few weeks. This right here was what consumed her. And Mr. Russell, as well, as she went to adjust another one of his designs and he all but spit out his food to correct her.
“You cannot do that,” he said sharply. “The stresses on the pulleys would be too much, not to mention the protection from the elements.”
“Oh?” she asked, as she turned back to the design. “Are you—”
“Sure? Of course, I’m sure.” Mr. Russell set down his bowl and took away her pencil. “You’ll not be touching another sketch until I see the entire castle.”
She blinked. “But you said you were hungry.”
“I am hungry!” he snapped. “And tired. And you know nothing about—”
“Perhaps,” interrupted Liam before the man lost his temper. “I could show you to your rooms now. You can plan on a thorough inspection in the morning.”
“Oh,” Clara said, obviously disappointed. “But I have so much to discuss with you both. I’ve made plans.”
“And we’ve made plans,” Miss Adams agreed. “And we can discuss them in detail in the morning, can’t we?”
“Yes, I suppose.” Then she brightened for a moment. “If you’ve written them down, I could look them over while you sleep.” She held out her hand as if excited for a treat. Liam caught her hand and wrapped it firmly in his own.
“Plenty of time in the morning,” he said. Then he gestured to the old kitchen. “Besides, everyone is waiting to be paid.”
She looked at the darkened windows as if she had no idea what time it was. And indeed, she probably didn’t. “Very well,” she finally said. “I’ll get the lockbox and my ledger.” She might as well have said, I’ll get a gun and shoot myself.
He wanted to take the obviously unwanted task from her, but it was the only leverage she had over his people. She controlled the coin. If he took that from her, then she would lose what gains she had made with them.
Still, one night couldn’t hurt…could it?
“Clara—” he began, but she cut him off.
“Come with me, Juliet! You can see what they’ve already learned. I’ve forced them, you know, to remember their letters and some have really taken to it.”
“Clara—” he tried again, but Miss Adams held up her hand to silence him.
“Very well,” she said. “My lord, if you please help Mr. Russell, I’ll learn what I can from Clara.” She rolled her shoulders as she stood up. “The sooner I get to know my charges, the better.”
“Exactly my thought,” Clara declared as she linked arms with her friend, her words flowing quickly as she all but skipped away. “It’s been a task, I tell you, getting them to learn a few letters, but in figuring, they’re very accomplished. Basic arithmetic has been instilled from birth, and a few can do complex…”
Liam watched the two women go. He had no idea she’d been testing his people’s ability with mathematics, and yet she’d obviously evaluated them. Meanwhile, Mr. Russell was gathering up his papers.
“You’ve caught her, that’s for sure,” the man grumbled. “But keeping her is another problem altogether.”
“What?” The word came out sharper than he intended. The last thing he needed was this Sassenach criticizing how he handled his own wife. Unfortunately, the man hadn’t been born with the brains to hear the warning in the word.
“You forced her hand, didn’t you? You’ve got her dowry now and felicitations. But you won’t hold her here. Not for long. She’ll get bored and come back to London.”
“Where you’ll be waiting with open arms?”
Mr. Russell shook his head. “I’m not one to bed another man’s wife. But I’ll take her time. I’ll take her attention and her ideas. She’s brilliant, you know. And it’s a damned shame that you’ve trapped her here in this dark hole of the world.”
“My home is not a dark hole,” he said with a growl.
“It will be to her.” He pursed his lips. “I give it three months. It’ll take that long for her to figure out how things are done here, meddle in them until she has it running how she likes, then…poof.” He popped his fingers open. “She’ll leave you for people who can think.”
“The hell she will. She’s my wife!”
“As if Clara ever paid attention to that.”
He wanted to punch the man in the face, but even he knew that would be childish. After all, the man was correct. From the first moment they’d met, Clara had defied convention, declared that she would never marry, and—now that he’d forced the issue—had decided she was a demi-rep. He was the one who kept her innocence intact. And he was the one who would tie her to his bed rather than let her abandon him for better—more educated—company.
“She will not get bored with me,” he declared firmly. He said it like a vow, but two hours later, he realized he’d already lost her.
