Page 32

Clara moved to the right even farther.

“For heaven’s sake. Give that to me. Mother, do help me, as it appears we are the only two who have a useful bone in our bodies.”

Clara smiled to herself—even more so when she caught sight of the amusement in Mr. Cole’s own expression which he also had to keep hidden from Miss Bowles.

She extended the bough to Miss Bowles, who snatched it away, then stalked with her mother toward the balcony.

Clara remained where she stood near the oversized chairs, Mr. Cole coming to join her in the next instant, though he appeared as if he was merely looking at the remaining boughs of hawthorn stacked on the chairs.

He turned his back to the Bowles, then spoke in a whisper as Miss Bowles and her mother argued in loud voices over where to place the next kissing ball—above the window or dangling from the balcony.

“You seem to delight in vexing Miss Bowles, Clara.”

“A maid would never, sir.”

“Perhaps a typical maid would not. But you are not a typical maid, are you?”

Clara ignored his questioning look, standing on ceremony for when she was needed next. This was the worst part of servitude. She despised literally waiting on someone.

“Where did you learn such tactics to so subtly earn the ire of another?” Mr. Cole pressed.

“Practice. And Observance. But why do you ask? You seem talented in that regard yourself.”

He stifled a laugh. “Apparently, I am not as adept in the art as you would imagine.” He dropped his voice even lower, continuing to focus on the boughs on the chair with feigned, focused eyes as he picked up one to examine it. “I cannot seem to be rid of Miss Bowles no matter what I do.”

Clara’s eyes snapped to his. “You wish to be rid of her attention? Yesterday, it appeared as if you were living for it.”

“As you said, that was yesterday.”

She shook her head. “Well, no doubt you’ll find someone else to pursue soon enough.”

His eyes found hers, but this time, he was the one to look away first.

“I trust you have not forgotten that you owe me two favors,” he said next. “Perhaps another now, as well, as I did not alert the house of one of my cravats seemingly producing a spontaneous message written in coal upon it.”

He gave her a playful reproachful look, but she merely smiled with innocence. “Perhaps my favor to you will be to not inform Miss Bowles that you’re attempting to be rid of her,” she returned.

He pulled back with an impressed look. “Now the claws have come out like a wounded badger.” He lowered another branch, then picked up one more. “But I am unconcerned. If you tell her, I shall be free. So by all means, inform her.”

“Mr. Cole? Mr. Cole!” Miss Bowles shouted from above. “We are in need of your aid!”

Mr. Cole cringed. “Of course, Miss Bowles. Allow me a moment to sort through this hawthorn, and I shall join you directly.”

When Miss Bowles looked away, Clara lowered her voice further, barely moving her lips as she spoke. “On second thought, I’ll keep the knowledge to myself. You deserve to have her attention on you.”

He feigned a look of affront. “What in heaven’s name have I done to earn such purgatory?”

She gave him a dubious look. “If a man expresses interest in a woman one moment, then denies it the next, he can ask for but nothing less.” She raised her chin. “Nor can he expect anything less when he behaves so abysmally as to seek only physical affection and nothing more.”

“Is there something wrong with seeking physical affection?” he asked, his head quirked to the side.

He appeared sincere, but Clara wasn’t sure if he was capable of such an action.

Miss Bowles and Mrs. Bowles had taken to arguing again, which Clara was grateful for. As much as she wished to annoy the woman, she didn’t want to incur her wrath by having Miss Bowles notice Clara speaking with Mr. Cole.

“Not within the bonds of a relationship,” Clara replied in a whisper. “But gentleman ought to speak with a woman first before seeking physical affection.”

“Why?” he pressed.