by Renée Dahlia
‘I see. Unfortunately, I am not familiar with the details of that particular act—’
‘Because all your rich clients have governesses and then send their boys to Eton. The education of rich boys has never been a problem, and most of those boys don’t realise how privileged they are.’
‘Privilege. You use that word with relish.’
‘Does it bother you to have to confront that idea?’ She leaned forward with her hands on the table between them.
‘You can’t accuse me of privilege without seeing that I also have some disadvantages,’ he said.
She tilted her head to the side, then threw her hands up. ‘If we are going to have a competition about privilege and disadvantage, I believe that you, at least, have the advantage of being able to vote. This discussion isn’t about you or I, it’s about the broader issues that face British society. Why do men always think a conversation is about them?’ Her upper lip curled for a fraction of a second and she looked out the window. He admired the way she contained herself so rapidly, but he wanted to draw her back into the conversation, to keep debating with her. So, he said the one thing that would grab her attention.
‘I won’t promise not to kiss you again.’ He had to clench his teeth to prevent a smile when she twisted back towards him with her eyes wide.
‘I don’t think it is wise to make such promises.’
‘Therefore, you would like me to kiss you?’
His reward was a slightly flustered look in her eye.
‘Please keep your distance until we have resolved these ludicrous charges against Father.’
Chapter 13
She thanked Clemton as she walked in the front door of her parents’ house, in time for the evening meal. Voices mumbled out into the hallway, making her glad that she’d gone home first to remove all the travel grit and change into a fresh gown. She wanted to run and hide from the conversations that would come next. She told herself it had nothing to do with Ravi and his rather extraordinary kiss. The rapid debate they’d had afterwards had kept her pulse beating, drawing her into his world. Thankfully, Ravi had also gone to his house to change out of his travelling outfit and she had gained some breathing room.
She wore a warrior’s outfit, ready to do battle with society, and Mother’s expectations. She halted in the hall as she caught an unwanted voice. Mr Thackery was here? She cursed under her breath, then dragged in a deep gulp of air, and lifted her chin. She forced herself to walk confidently into the drawing room. Father and Mr Thackery stood in one corner, while Mother hovered nearby. Ravi lounged in an armchair on the other side of the room, watching everyone. He’d obviously arrived before her, a typical man able to change quickly and still look amazing without much work. No, scratch that. Most men didn’t look amazing, but the way Ravi’s suit fitted him only highlighted how much she needed to keep her distance. He was dangerous to her, far too much risk was wrapped up in the way her body reacted to his. She dragged her view away from him, then marched with her chin in the air over to her father.
‘Good evening,’ she said, keeping her gaze firmly on her father and trying to ignore the unease that sent cold skipping over her skin as Mr Thackery stared at her.
‘Mr Thackery, have you met my marvellous, brilliant daughter?’ said Mr Carlingford.
‘Yes, I have had the pleasure, sir,’ he said.
She bit the inside of her cheek to prevent a sneer.
‘Excellent.’ Her father turned to her, and continued. ‘I have just given Mr Thackery a promotion. He has an idea for centralising several of our units into large scale combined shops, so he will be taking on that challenge for us.’
She nodded, and tried not to let the sudden rush of angry heat in her cheeks spill over into words that couldn’t be taken back. That had been her idea.
‘He is simply brilliant,’ said Mother, in the gushing voice she used for society. The back of Claire’s neck prickled at the praise.
‘Excuse me, Father. Can I have a quick moment?’ she said, and walked to the far corner of the room. She’d prefer to do this in his office, away from the gaze of Mr Thackery and her mother, but that would be too obvious. She reached the corner of the room, and turned. The chill on her skin dissipated as her Father had followed her.
‘Yes?’ he whispered.
‘About Mr Thackery …’ she started to explain, but her father interrupted her.
‘He is a good match for you, Claire. There is great potential there,’ he said. She crossed her arms over her chest as a shudder of horror made her stomach churn.
‘No. He’s a fortune hunter of the first order. I would never pick someone so obvious. He’s taken my idea, and presented it to you as his, simply so he can fool you into thinking that he is a matrimonial target.’ Her father glanced around the room, and Claire did too. Her mother stood close to Mr Thackery, maybe slightly too close, while Ravi looked far too relaxed. A tendon in his neck tightened and Claire realised that he was alert and had purposefully arranged himself into a relaxed pose so the room would ignore him. She bit the inside of her lip to keep her smile to herself.
‘Perhaps he is the wrong one, but I do want to see you settled with someone, Claire. I know better than anyone that a large bank balance is no comfort on a cold night,’ he said. Her eyes widened at the unusual sentiment from her father. It must have been the surprise of his comment, but her response came out louder than she intended.
‘If I was to marry anyone, it would be Ravi.’ Her mother gasped, and Mr Thackery patted Mother on the shoulder. Claire’s cheeks flooded with heavy heat as she realised that the entire room had heard her response. Heard her use his given name.
‘That can be arranged,’ her father whispered.
She shook her head. Bollocks. What had she done? Mother was right, her big mouth would get her into trouble. She swallowed down the thick lump of hot bitterness in the back of her throat and prepared to stand her ground. A sharp pinch made her flinch, and she spun towards the pain with her heavy skirts swishing around her legs. Her mother’s fingernails dug into her upper arm.
‘Come with me,’ whispered her mother, pulling on her arm. Claire ground her back teeth, and let her mother drag her from the room. Now she was in for it. Her mother’s nails clenched harder as they paced together down the hallway. Claire’s blood roared in her ears—perhaps she shouldn’t have said that, but she didn’t deserve to be treated like this. Like a child. She grasped her mother’s hand, and freed her arm. She stepped backwards and rubbed the sore spots on her arm.
‘Mother,’ she said in a firm voice.
‘You can’t,’ her mother hissed back.
Claire frowned and tilted her head to the side.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Don’t play the confused brat with me. You simply can’t marry him, he’s a, a—’
‘Don’t say it,’ Claire spat. Her mother’s upper lip curled.
‘Have you no thought for the prospects of your brother?’ said Mother. Claire swallowed back a noise that was part curse and part ugly laugh. She wanted to scream at her mother’s words, but she took a quick breath and tried to sound polite.
‘I believe I said I wasn’t going to marry anyone,’ she said.
‘Yes, you are. You will marry Mr Thackery, not some random man you’ve pulled off the streets. You obviously chose him to be as unsuitable as possible. I see through you, and your need to upset me.’
‘I rather believe that I hadn’t thought of you at all in this equation,’ she said. Her nostrils flared.
‘That much is obvious. You’ve always been a terrible daughter, selfish and uninclined to consider my nerves. It is your only duty to marry well. To elevate this family, and give your brother the best opportunities.’
‘Does Father see it like that?’ Claire wanted to remind her mother that while she had the emotional advantage in the house, she wasn’t the sole authority over her. Perhaps she should marry Ravi, at least then she’d be the mistress of her own house. Or not. Damn it,
she was already the mistress of her own house. She loved the life she’d built before this latest mess had begun. A longing for the past, only a month before, built as an icy ache in her chest.
‘Don’t put on that attitude with me, Miss. It’s past time that you gave up all that nonsense and did your duty to the family. And Mr Thackery fits the bill.’ Claire wanted to ask why, but had heard this all so many times that she knew better than to allow Mother to elucidate on that idea.
‘Like I said—’
‘You will not! If nothing else will sway you from family duty, think of the children.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You can add milk to coffee, but it’s still coffee underneath,’ said Mother with a sneer.
‘You make that sound like an insult,’ said Claire in her coolest, most politely veneered voice.
‘It is. You can’t marry him.’
‘I quite like coffee. It’s rich and complex in flavour, and no matter how much milk you add, it retains a zest for life that makes everything worthwhile.’ As Mother spluttered, Claire obstinately wanted to stretch out the implied lie about marrying Ravi. She did like him, there was obviously a spark between them, and she truly believed her own statement about him. It wasn’t just a comment to fight back against her mother’s awfulness. While her mother gasped like a waterless fish, she went for her knife.
‘Mr Howick’s father is Lord Dalhinge. He’s a peer, hence he’s higher on any hierarchy than your Mr Thackery. Perhaps he is a cup of milk with a dash of chocolate for extra flavour. How could I possibly resist?’ She’d tried to make her voice as sarcastic as possible, but she couldn’t fool herself. She heard the truth underneath her words, and it filled her chest with tight anxiety. How would she resist his sharp intelligence, his acceptance of her choices, and his …? She gulped. She already found it hard to resist his masculine appeal. She bowed her head, and walked away from her mother with her gaze firmly on the hallway carpet.
‘I’m chocolate? Addictive, rich and impossible to resist.’ Ravi’s voice rumbled with humour and she stumbled to a halt. She looked up, deep into his brown eyes and saw laughter in the crinkles around the edges, while his dark irises shone and twinkled.
‘Mother is a determined pest. She wants me to marry Mr Thackery,’ said Claire. She swallowed and mumbled, ‘I had to say something to ward her off.’
‘And I am a handily placed alternative?’ he asked.
Claire nodded as he appeared to understand her need to distract her mother from her unwanted goal. ‘She objects to you.’
‘I heard.’ He shrugged. The laughter in his eyes disappeared, replaced by a careful bland expression. She couldn’t respond. ‘Many people do,’ he said carefully.
Her big mouth, full of sassy words, departed and left her standing there, uncertain. A moment passed, then he pinned her with his gaze, eyes narrowed. What was he thinking? Her words on the day they met flashed before her, and she swallowed.
‘If you think I insulted you, then you didn’t hear everything,’ she said. He simply raised his eyebrows and waited. Her pulse thumped in her temple. ‘I have nothing to apologise for. I’m not going to marry you or Mr Thackery, or anyone, but at least you are kind. I defended you against Mother’s insults. That’s all.’ His jaw clenched, a muscle under his ear pulsing.
‘Forget it. We have work to do,’ he said. He turned on his heels and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the hallway wondering What next?
‘You’ll catch more flies with honey,’ sneered her mother from behind her. She whipped around to glare at her. How much had she heard? She gave her head a quick shake. Never mind.
‘I don’t want to catch anyone. Not Ra … Mr Howick. Not your Mr Thackery. No-one.’ If she repeated it often enough, maybe people would start to believe her. Maybe she would believe it too. She brushed past her mother, and her continual stream of cruel words that cut the air when they were alone, and marched far away, through the house to the kitchen. She breathed in the yeasty goodness of fresh bread, and the mingled scents of the evening meal that should be served shortly. She hovered outside the kitchen, not wanting to enter and disturb the preparations, but not wanting to go anywhere else in this large house. At least she could get a few moments of peace from Mother here, as Mother would never lower herself to grace the servant’s part of the house with her presence. Had Mother always been so dreadful, or had it come on slowly with time? A pot clanged, and Cook’s curses rang out. A chuckle caught in her throat. She wasn’t ten anymore, new to England and confused by the complex rules of the old world. She shook out her arms, straightened her gown, patted her hair, and commenced the long walk back to the drawing room. Time to smooth matters over with Ravi, and get on with the job of solving the problem of who wanted Father removed from the business. And while she was at it, she needed to get Mr Thackery removed from her life too. That slimy toad.
The low thrum of voices emanating from the drawing room slowed her steps. Don’t be a coward. She ran her thumb and forefinger along a ribbon on her expensive gown, and stepped into the room with a flourish, a small twist of her hips making her gown sway and shine under the sharp new electric lights. Mr Thackery and Ravi conferred at the opposite side of the room while her father stood alone in the far corner. Both Ravi and Mr Thackery looked up at her entrance, their eyes raking her body. She smiled, a calm smile outside, and a giddy grin inside, as fashion gave her a moment of power. This was why she loved fashion, an audacious dress of bold colour infused her bones with brazen confidence. She could be everything her father believed she could be, even if the rest of the world would stand in her way. She dragged her gaze away from Ravi, resplendent in a dark grey suit that highlighted his broad shoulders and lean, strong body. He had put on his glasses after their charged discussion in the hall, and his black hair curled loosely across the top of his ears where the metal of his glasses glinted in the light. Glasses on, or glasses off, apparently her desire didn’t care as a warmth built inside her.
She walked towards her father, ready for another battle. Her stomach dropped as her body noticed a change in her father. For a second there, confusion flashed across his face as she approached, then he lifted his chin and his expression returned to its usual strength. With a slow intake of breath, she kept away the frown that threatened to give away her worry.
‘Father,’ she said as she joined him. She kept her body angled away from Ravi and focused her attention on her father. He’d aged in the week she’d been away. Was this why he was pushing her towards taking over so fast? She’d thought she had plenty of time before they needed to have that argument. She blinked, and ran back over the last few weeks. He’d been more adamant than usual about her chosen path.
‘Father, are you ill?’ she whispered. A frown flashed on his brow, and his moustache twitched.
‘Do you ask because you are upset at my earlier comments regarding Mr Thackery?’
‘I did think you’d have more sense than to thrust someone so obvious in my direction.’ She waited as Father paused.
‘Your mother was only twenty-two when I married her, and now you are far past that. It is time you gave some consideration to how you want to spend the rest of your life.’
‘That’s ironic given that you told me earlier today that money is not a warm companion,’ she said with one eyebrow raised.
‘Claire, I wouldn’t push you into something you didn’t want. And I understand—’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes. You may not realise it yet, but the world is a lonely place when you don’t have someone to share it with.’
‘I’d rather be alone than have someone like Mr Thackery.’
‘But what about Mr Howick? You said you’d have him, and I find he is a sensible young man.’
‘Father!’ Her face heated and she stepped backwards. She sucked in a short breath, and waved her hand as dismissively as she could manage, but she couldn’t disguise the slight tremor. ‘Ravi, I mean, Mr Howick isn’t suitable.’
‘Why not? Because of his mother’s heritage? His father was an Earl, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes. That’s not why. It’s because …’ She paused as the embarrassed heat spread to the tips of her ears and down her neck. ‘Because we bicker too much.’ She rattled out her terrible excuse as quickly as possible.
‘Oh, Claire. How little you know? Your mother and I used to have the most wonderful debates,’ he said with a touch of whimsy in his voice.
It took all her control not to blurt something rude and incredulous. Really, her mother? The same person who continually told her to keep her big mouth shut? Her confusion must have been written all over her face, as Father blinked twice. Clemton saved them both from having to answer by announcing dinner.
Chapter 14
Claire walked into the dining room beside Father, only to find that Mother had arranged for her to be seated opposite Mr Thackery. Ravi had been seated on the same side as Mr Thackery, but with a spare seat betwixt them. Was this Mother’s unsubtle way of putting Ravi in the place Mother felt he ought to be?
‘Mr Howick, perhaps you should move closer to the rest of us?’ she said. Mother, and her impeccable timing, arrived in the room at that moment.
‘He shall stay there, where I have placed him.’ Mother sat at the other end of the table, facing Father who sat at the head of the table. Ravi shook his head, a tiny movement that Claire hoped only she saw.
‘Thank you for your hospitality this evening,’ said Ravi. Clemton and his team of footmen brought the soup course, an asparagus soup with one of Cook’s yeasty bread rolls on a side dish. No wonder she’d been drawn to the kitchen earlier, as these must have only just come out of the oven. Claire cut hers in half, and a puff of steam and scent rose to meet her nostrils. Her mouth watered, not just at the smell of fresh bread, but at the memory of the carriage ride this morning with Ravi. She glanced at him, and the corner of his mouth quirked up.