by Emma Evans
Clara did not reply but the thoughtful expression remained on her face for a few moments as they entered the house.
“You have a visitor, my lord, in the drawing room,” the butler said at once, after offering his congratulations to them both. “The wedding breakfast is still being laid out in the dining room.”
Nodding, Simon pulled off his gloves and handed them to the butler. “Thank you. This visit will not take long.”
The butler melted away, leaving Simon and Clara to make their way to the drawing room. Simon felt Clara’s tension, aware that his wife was very anxious about seeing her brother again but yet filled with a pride that she was determined to speak to him with a degree of firmness and determination that he was quite sure Lord Crawford had not seen before.
Opening the door, he allowed Clara to step inside before following close behind her. Lord Crawford, who had clearly been pacing the room, hurried towards Clara at once, his hand reaching to grasp her arm.
“Lord Crawford,” Simon said loudly, catching the man’s attention. “I think it best you not touch my wife.”
Lord Crawford’s dark eyebrows rose into his hair, his dark green eyes filled with astonishment.
“Won’t you sit?” Simon continued, gesturing towards the chairs gathered close to the fire. “Although I’m afraid our visit cannot be of long duration. We have the wedding breakfast to get to.”
Lord Crawford blinked furiously before turning to face his sister.
“Clara?” he whispered, his voice thin. “Are you trying to tell me that you have wed without my consent?”
Simon was about to answer for her but then saw his wife lift her chin, her stance firm.
“I do not think that I require your consent, brother,” she replied at once, not backing down from his angry stance. “Lord Thackery proposed and I accepted. We are only this very moment back from the church.”
Watching Lord Crawford carefully, Simon saw how his jaw worked, his anger evident.
“I do not think we have anything much to say to one another, Crawford, do you?” Clara continued, stepping a little away from both her brother and Simon as she gestured towards the door. “And I would very much like to get to my wedding breakfast. I hear it is to be something of a feast.”
Impressed by his wife’s bravery, Simon waited patiently for Lord Crawford to move towards the door and exit the room, keeping his eyes trained on the man. Lord Crawford, however, did not move. He did not so much as blink. Instead, he simply stared at Clara, his eyebrows knotting together.
“I think I have made the situation perfectly clear, Crawford,” Clara said, lifting an eyebrow. “There is no need for you to remain here. In fact, I do not think there is any particular reason for us to see each other again, do you?”
“You will not do this to me, Clara,” the Viscount hissed, stepping closer to her. “You will not!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, brother,” Clara replied, as Simon moved quickly forward to stand by her, only to be blocked by Viscount Crawford. “You need to leave.”
With every fiber of his being desperate to be near her, Simon stayed exactly where he was, determined to allow his wife to show her brother her new strength and determination in the face of his anger and fury. He had to stop himself from taking control of the situation, knowing that it would do more harm than good. This was Clara’s time, a time to show her brother that she would no longer live in fear of him.
“Lord Franks has paid a very great sum for you,” Viscount Crawford finished, now almost face to face with his sister. “I cannot allow you to refuse him.”
“And yet, I am,” Clara declared, even though Simon could see how her fingers whitened on the door handle. “I am married now, Crawford, and there is nothing you can do.”
A warning began to scream wildly in Simon’s mind as he hurried forward, only to see Viscount Crawford pull a knife from his belt, the blade flashing as it caught the sunlight.
“What are you doing, Crawford?” he heard Clara exclaim, his eyes fixed on her and not on the blade. He had to get to her, had to save her from her brother.
Lord Crawford grasped Clara’s arm roughly, just as Simon reached her.
“If you will not wed him, then I shall make you a widow!” he shouted, turning his body towards Simon and slashing wildly with the knife. The blade whistled past Simon’s ear as he stumbled back in shock, falling over a small footstool and hitting the floor hard. Viscount Crawford meant to try and kill him in an attempt to free Clara from matrimony in whatever way he could. The man was clearly desperate.
As Simon fell, he heard Clara scream. Trying desperately to right himself, he saw her grasp at her brother’s arm, twisting this way and that in an attempt to stop him from attacking Simon again.
“Clara!” he shouted, coming back towards Lord Crawford without the slightest fear in his heart. “Clara! Be careful!”
Everything seemed to slow. Lord Crawford turned towards him again, the knife still held tightly in his hand. He raised his arm high and Simon tensed, ready to dodge out of the way—only for Clara to pull her brother back, hard.
She used enough strength to make Lord Crawford stumble, and stumble he did. With a cry of frustration, he whipped around to Clara and, without hesitation, slammed the knife down, hard, into her soft flesh.
The scream of pain that escaped from her lips tore Simon’s heart asunder. Lord Crawford stared down at his sister as she fell to the floor, breathing heavily—and Simon took the opportunity to tackle him to the ground, just as the door opened and Lord Guthrie and Sophie came hurrying in.
They stared, aghast, at Clara and then at Simon.
“Guthrie!” Simon shouted, as Viscount Crawford struggled beneath him. “Here! Sophia, ring the bell and send for the doctor at once. I will see to Clara.”
Lord Guthrie did not hesitate but planted his rather large fist into Lord Crawford’s face, knocking him into a daze.
“Go,” he said grimly, as Lord Crawford slumped onto the floor. “I’ll see to him.”
Simon did not hesitate but ran to Clara, his legs wobbly and his hands shaking as he came to where she lay. Blood had soaked into her wedding gown, although the knife now lay by her side on the floor.
“Here,” Simon muttered, grasping the delicate shawl that had fallen from her shoulders, wrapping it into a ball and pressing it hard against her shoulder. “I know it will hurt but this will help.”
She sucked in a breath and Simon couldn’t help but wince.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, brushing one hand across her brow. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought he would leave, truly. I never expected him to have a knife.”
Clara’s eyes fluttered closed, her face pale. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered, reaching for his hand with an effort and letting hers settle on his own. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”
The ache of worry in his heart began to take hold as Clara’s eyes remained closed, her hand limp against his.
“Clara?” he said loudly. “Clara!”
There was no response.
Chapter Thirteen
“Clara?”
Frowning, Clara tried to open her eyes, pain exploding all through her as she tried to move.
“Don’t,” came the same voice, a hand taking hers. “Don’t try to move. The doctor said you’ll only hurt yourself all the more.”
Struggling against the pain, Clara forced her eyes to open, blinking furiously as the room came into view.
“Thackery,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and lips cracked. “What happened?”
The smile on his face was one of relief, telling just how worried he had been over her.
“Here, drink this,” he said quietly, lifting a glass of water to her lips. “It’ll help. The doctor left some laudanum for you, should you want it.”
Trying to shake her head no, Clara waited as he lifted the glass and drank thirstily, the cool water helping to refresh her.
“N
o laudanum,” she replied, her voice already a little stronger. “I don’t want to grow confused.”
Lord Thackery smiled at her and put the glass down. “You do have a strength about you, Clara, albeit one that’s hidden deep within you. My goodness, how I’ve been worried about you.”
The memory of what had happened came back to her in a flash. “My arm hurts,” she whispered, glancing over at her bandage-covered shoulder and wincing as she did so. The nightgown she wore was loose at the neck, leaving the left side of her neck and her entire shoulder bare and open to his view. Clara flushed as she looked at herself, wondering about what exactly had happened.
Lord Thackery pressed her hand lightly. “I’m afraid you had to get a few stitches, my love. It’ll leave a scar, most likely. Couldn’t be helped.” His fingers gently ran along her collarbone before brushing softly against her neck. “Not that I mind in the least, Clara. You are even more beautiful today than when I first saw you.”
She shivered, her eyes lifting to his.
“The doctor says you fainted due to shock and loss of blood,” he finished, one hand holding her free one whilst the other lingered on the nape of her neck. “I have never been more afraid in my life, Clara.”
She shook her head, her lips trembling. “What’s happening to him?”
“The constabulary have him, but I’m afraid there won’t be too much of an indictment,” Lord Thackery said with a heavy sigh. “You know what they’re like when it comes to prosecuting the nobility. He will be made to pay some kind of compensation and then sent on his way, but I have had my steward look into his affairs. He will report back to me soon about the state of your brother’s finances. I think that he was somewhat desperate to have you marry Lord Franks, in exchange for a great deal of money. That tells me that he is not as solvent as he once was.” His eyes burned with a sudden, fierce anger, his fingers tightening on her own. “I cannot believe that he attempted to take you by force.”
Clara, still remembering the devastating fear she had felt over her brother’s determination to make her a widow, clasped Thackery’s hand tightly. “I was afraid he would kill you,” she whispered, a single tear falling from her eyes and landing softly on her cheek. “I couldn’t let him do that, not after all you’ve done for me.”
“My dear Clara, you have a lion’s heart within you,” Thackery murmured, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “You were trying to defend me and yet you are the one who has been so gravely injured. Had it been any worse then I would have been…” He trailed off, shaking his head at her and then kissing the back of her hand again.
Warmth spread up her arm and into her heart as she settled back against the pillows, her eyes closing again.
“Rest, my love,” she heard Thackery whisper. “I will be here when you wake again.”
Clara slept most of the day and all of the following night. It wasn’t until the late morning that she woke, feeling refreshed and in a great deal less pain.
“Good morning, Lady Thackery.”
The maid addressing her in such a way gave Clara pause, her face frozen in a half-smile as she realized that this was now who she truly was. No longer would she be Miss Dynes; she would from this moment on be Lady Thackery. She was a Viscountess. It was more than she had ever dreamed of.
“Might I come in?”
Sophia’s face appeared at the door and Clara welcomed her in at once. The strain on Sophia’s face showed immediately and Clara held her hands tightly to show her that she was, in fact, quite all right.
“I have been so worried,” Sophia exclaimed, tears pouring from her eyes as she clung to Clara’s hands. “I thought… I thought you might…”
“I am quite well,” Clara said softly as the maid handed Sophia a handkerchief. “It is just a small wound, I believe. In fact, I fully intend to get out of bed today and join you in the drawing room. You have a ball this evening, do you not?”
“I cannot go!” Sophia cried, her eyes wide. “Not when you are so ill!”
“I am not ill,” Clara declared firmly. “And of course, you must go. This is your Season, Sophia, and I will not allow my brother’s actions to spoil your happiness.”
For a moment, Sophia looked as though she might argue, but then, to Clara’s relief, she simply sighed and wiped her eyes with the handkerchief.
“You are very brave, Clara,” Sophia whispered, shaking her head. “You stood up to your brother in a way I had never expected.”
“It was because of you that I found the strength to do so,” Clara replied, squeezing Sophia’s hand. “I have learned that I need not be afraid of my brother. You were right to say so. I should thank you for your wisdom, Sophia.”
Her charge’s eyes lit up with surprise and appreciation. “Truly?”
“Truly,” Clara replied, picking up her tea cup with her good hand and taking a long sip. “I shall no longer be in fear of my brother, even though he has done this to me. I just wish I knew why he was so determined to have me marry Lord Franks.”
Sophia nodded slowly. “Do you think he will try again?”
A small swirl of worry coiled in Clara’s belly. “I am not sure,” she replied honestly. “He did behave as though he were in a desperate situation and I am not certain that he will give up after only one attempt.” She sighed and shook her head. “After all, the constabulary very rarely prosecute the gentry.”
Slowly, a smile began to make its way across Sophia’s face. “Well, at least you have Thackery to look after you now. I am sure he will be quite wonderful to you and certainly more than able to protect you.” Tilting her head, she looked at Clara with a small measure of envy in her eyes. “I only hope that I may be able to find a gentleman who looks at me in the same way as Thackery looks at you, Clara.”
Shaking her head, Clara tried not to let the blush rise to her cheeks. “No, Sophia, he is simply a good man who has done a good thing in giving me the life I always dreamed of. Practicality, that is all.”
Laughing aloud, Sophia got to her feet and patted Clara’s hand. “My dear Clara, if you believe that then I shall truly believe you a simpleton when I know for certain you are not. Anyway, I shall leave you now to rest. You look tired and I would not have you worsen because of me.” She bussed Clara’s cheek and quit the room, leaving Clara with a great deal more on her mind than before.
Chapter Fourteen
Ten Days Later
“No, you absolutely must not.”
Clara smiled as her husband gave her a stern look, ignoring it completely. “Thackery, I am entirely recovered, I assure you.”
“It is not that which worries me,” he declared, looking as steadfast as before. “It is the fact that your brother cannot be found, and goodness knows where he has gone!”
Sighing inwardly, Clara tried to speak calmly and concisely, aware that Thackery was reacting to her request to go to this evening’s ball out of nothing but concern for her. “Thackery, I cannot stay tucked up in here simply because Crawford is hiding somewhere. He may well have gone back to the country for all we know, especially since he now has a very large debt to pay!”
Thackery had managed to discover that Clara’s brother, Lord Crawford, had been given nothing more than a hefty fine and a stern warning over what he had done to Clara, which he was not in the least bit pleased about. However, it was to be expected for the constabulary did not deal fairly with the gentry, mostly due to fear of reprisals. There had been no scandal from this matter, however, for it had all been very carefully hushed up. As far as anyone else in the beau monde knew, Clara and Lord Thackery were now happily married and would be spending the remaining few weeks of the Season helping Sophia find a suitable match before leaving on their honeymoon.
But now, however, Crawford appeared to have dropped off the face of the earth. There was no sign of him in London and Thackery had made discreet enquiries as to whether or not he had returned home and found out that he was not there either. Clara tried to tell Thackery
that it may have been that Thackery’s steward had simply reached Crawford’s estate before Lord Crawford did himself, but that had not erased any of the concern from Thackery’s mind.
“Regardless, I still do not want you to attend this evening,” Thackery said firmly. “I worry for you, my dear.”
His tone was tender, his eyes gentle and Clara felt herself glow inwardly—although her determination remained.
“Thackery, I have spent my life hiding from my brother’s ire,” she replied as he came closer to her. “I will not continue to do so. I must go to the ball this evening, especially when we already accepted.”
“They will barely notice,” Thackery muttered, flopping down into a chair beside her. “The ball will already be full of guests.”
Clara could not help but let her gaze linger on him, her heart warming as he caught her eye. In the last ten days, they had spent more time together than ever before and Clara had learned so much about him. He was kind and good-natured, preferring quiet over noise, which now explained his penchant for staying in instead of rushing off to whatever ball or recital they had been invited to next. She learned that he had remained in town simply for Sophia’s sake and that he had never had much thought about matrimony, seeing it only as some far-off responsibility.
Of course, that had worried her for a moment, but he had soon reassured her, evidently recognizing the worry in her expression. It appeared that he was beginning to know her more too, for she would often catch him studying her as she looked up from either a book or her conversation with Sophia. When he smiled at her, she felt her heart fill with a deep affection for him, an affection that was steadily growing into something more.
The fact was, he was physically affectionate towards her too, which only added to her feelings of devotion. Even now, he took her hand and pressed it lightly between his own, and Clara felt her breath rush from her body, lightning firing its way from his skin to her heart.