“I know the way out from here,” she said calmly once the footman had escorted her out the front door and past half a dozen curious guests who paused in what they were doing to watch her walk down the front steps.
“But the duke–”
“I know the way,” she repeated. “Please release my arm. I promise I will not cause any more trouble.”
“Yes, my lady.” With a short, courteous bow the footman let go of her arm and stepped away.
Lifting her shoulders and straightening her spine Clara descended the stairs with all the bearing of a young queen, her gaze unfaltering as she stared straight ahead. She could hear people whispering about her, just as she could feel their eyes on her back. Ignoring them she continued on, forcing herself to walk past the large stone fountain, past the long line of carriages, past the tall oaks that stood sentry on either side of the drive, their tall trunks and broad leaves casting dark, rippling shadows across the neatly raked stone.
She was nearly to the road when she heard her name like a whisper on the wind, faint at first but growing stronger and stronger until it was an echoing shout. Recognizing to whom the shout belonged she set her jaw and kept walking, a bit faster than before.
“Clara! Clara, wait. Clara! Bloody hell.” Cursing his frustration under his breath Thorncroft broke into a run and Clara, after a quick glance over her shoulder, did the same.
How silly they must have looked, sprinting pell-mell down the drive! Clara in her fancy ball gown and Thorncroft in his formal black attire. She picked up her skirts as she ran, revealing slender calves and trim ankles incased in pale pink stockings. Her heartbeat accelerated, the sound of it roaring in her ears, deafening Thorncroft’s demands for her to stop which was all well and good for she was done listening to him.
She had given him not one, but two opportunities to hear her out! And both times he had sent her away. She knew some of the blame was her own, but she refused to bear all of it herself. They were both responsible for their own shortcomings and if Thorncroft refused to acknowledge his then she could not make him do so any more than she could make the rain fall or the sun shine.
The tiny heel of her slipper suddenly caught, making her stumble forward. She cried out as she fell, instinctively throwing her hands out in front of her face as the stones came rushing up, but before she struck the ground she was swept up by two powerful arms and secured against a strong, familiar chest.
“Easy now,” Thorncroft’s voice rumbled against her ear when she began to struggle. “I’ve got you.”
Kicking her feet out she glared up at him through tousled curls pulled free from the elegant coiffure Emily had fashioned. “I do not want you to have me!” she snapped. “You don’t deserve me. Put me down, Andrew, or I swear I will–”
“You’ll do what?” he interrupted, arching one dark brow. Ignoring her flailing arms and legs he held her as effortlessly as he might a pillow filled with feathers. “Scream?”
“Maybe I will!”
“And who do you think would come to your rescue?”
It was a fair point, which only made it all the more infuriating. Grinding her teeth together she said, “What do you want? You told me to leave and I left. Was I not walking fast enough for you?”
A scowl creased his brow. “You shouldn’t have been walking at all. Where is your coach?”
“I don’t know.”
“Clara–”
“I don’t!” she insisted. “Now please put me down. I am not a – a damsel in distress in need of rescuing, nor am I a child in need of coddling.”
His gaze shuttered he carried her to the edge of the drive and slowly set her down on the grass. She’d lost her shoe when she tripped and her toes curled inward as the cold dew immediately soaked through her thin stocking. Noting the way she was standing Thorncroft turned and searched her missing shoe amidst the stones. Finding it a few feet away, he retrieved it and presented it to her as though it were a priceless piece of jewelry. But when she tried to take her shoe back from him he suddenly lifted it out of reach, causing her fingers to close on thin air.
Clara sighed.
“I do not know what game you are playing at, but I am tired and I just want to go home.”
“In the ballroom you said you never married him.” He studied her intently as though trying to pull the truth from her very skull. “What did you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“But the letter I received–”
“My stepmother lied to you, Andrew.” Clara’s smile was small and impossibly sad. “It is what she does. It is what she has always done. I do not know why.”
“Then you were never engaged?” A glimmer of hope lit his eyes, only to be quickly extinguished when Clara shook her head.
“No, I was. Or at least I think I was, in as much as one person can be engaged to another without giving their consent. It was my stepmother’s idea. Her way to get me out of the house once and for all. I had never met the man she wanted me to marry, let alone approved of him. All I knew was his name.”
“Mr. Robert Ingle,” said Thorncroft.
“Yes, Mr. Robert Ingle. May I have my shoe now?”
“Not yet. Is that why you were going to London? To meet him?”
Clara nodded.
Awareness flickered in his dark gaze. “But you met me instead.”
“I met you instead,” she whispered.
“And when you needed me the most I sent you away with her.” He spat out the word as though it tasted foul. Dropping her gaze to his chest Clara bit her lip.
“That was my fault. I should have told you earlier, but I was afraid…”
“Afraid of what?” he said quietly when she hesitated. Reaching out he trailed his fingertips down the side of her face. She closed her eyes when he cupped the soft curve of her jaw, thumb gently rubbing color back into her pale cheek. “Afraid of what, Clara?”
Her eyes opened. “Afraid of losing you. Afraid of having you go back to how you were before.” She could feel her throat tightening, but she forced herself to continue. “Afraid of waking up and realizing it was all a dream.”
Her shoe fell to the grass as he wrapped both of his arms around her trembling shoulders, drawing her in close, his hands supporting the back of her head as his fingers dove into the thick tangle of her curls. He murmured her name once, twice, and when she finally gathered the courage to look up at him she was stunned to see tears shining in the corners of his eyes. It was the most emotion he had ever shown her, at long last giving her a true glimpse at the man he kept hidden beneath his thick coat of armor.
“I never should have doubted you.” His voice, hoarse and raw and vulnerable, pulled at her heart. “For that I will always be sorry. To think of the pain I must have caused you…” He hissed out a breath. “Can you forgive me, Clara?”
A smile wobbled across her lips as she met his damp gaze. “I already have. Can you forgive me?”
“Always.” Slowly, gently, tenderly, he lowered his head and brushed his mouth across hers. “You fixed me, Clara. I was like a broken clock with my gears and my springs torn all asunder. And then you came along with your bright smile and your silly little laugh and you fixed me. You brought light in a world haunted by darkness and shadows. You made me want to be better, Clara. You made me better.”
“What – what are you doing?” she gasped when he stepped back and knelt down on one knee.
“Something I bloody well should have done the day I met you.” Overhead the clouds suddenly shifted and moonlight streamed down, illuminating Thorncroft’s solemn expression as he patted the breast pocket of his tailcoat. “I have a ring, but I do not want to give it to you.”
Clara’s pounding heart stuttered a beat. “Oh. That’s – that’s fine, I suppose. I mean, I was not expecting–”
“I do not want to give it to you,” he interrupted, “because it belonged to Katherine, and when I ask you to be my wife I want it to be with something new. You are not a replace
ment, Clara. You never were. Katherine was a part of my past I will always treasure but you… you are my future. I love you, Clara Witherspoon, and I swear to love you until the end of my days.”
“I love you too you foolish man,” she said as tears born of pure happiness flooded her eyes.
Thorncroft lifted a brow. “Have I ever told you that you’re not very good for my self-confidence? It is not every day a duke gets down on one knee and proposes to the love his life, you know. The least you could do is refrain from calling me names.”
He started to rise but Clara, with a tiny gasp, pressed her hand on his shoulder to push him back down. “I thought you were going to propose!” she cried.
“I am. As soon as I have a ring. We can pick one out together. We’ll go tomorrow if you like.”
Her bottom lip puckered out. “But I do not want to wait.”
He grinned up at her. “Typical woman. What would you have me do, wrap a blade of grass around your finger? I will if that’s what you want but a ring of grass is hardly befitting of a future duchess.”
“Use my shoe,” she said impulsively.
Thorncroft blinked. “Your what?”
“My shoe! Do not move.” Crouching down she felt along the grass until she found her dancing slipper. “Here it is!” She shoved the shoe with its star shaped sapphire into his hand. “Use this.”
“It is a rather nice shoe,” Thorncroft remarked as he turned the slipper over. “Is this really what you want?”
“It is.”
“Very well.” He cleared his throat and dropped his head for a moment. When he lifted it again his gray eyes were completely cleared of the storms that had haunted him for far too long. In the dark, swirling depths of his gaze there was nothing but a deep, endless love. The same love Clara felt in her own heart. “Lady Clara Witherspoon, will you do me the honor of accepting this shoe and becoming my wife?”
“Yes!” she cried. “Oh yes. A thousand times yes.”
“I need your foot,” he reminded her when she kept all ten toes planted firmly on the ground.
“That would help, wouldn’t it?” On a whimsical laugh Clara extended her calf and Thorncroft gently held her ankle while he slipped the shoe on. When it was in place he kissed the sapphire jewel before rising to his feet.
“That’s it then, I suppose.”
“No, my love,” said Clara, her blue eyes shining as bright as the stars twinkling up high in the heavens. “It is only the very beginning.”
And so it was.
EPILOGUE
Clara and Thorncroft were married on a bright, sunny day in the middle of August. The wedding was an intimate affair. Only close friends and family were in attendance. Most noticeably not invited? Lady Irene, Gabriella, and Henrietta.
Shortly after the ball Thorncroft paid a discreet visit to his future in-laws. In no uncertain terms he told them they were to leave Windmere and never return. At Clara’s insistence he reluctantly bought them a townhouse in London and gave both of her stepsister’s generous dowries.
It was more than any one of them deserved for the horrible way they had treated Clara over the years, but it eased her mind to know they would be well taken care of and she need never think of them again, which she didn’t.
For her wedding she wore a beautiful gown of soft ivory designed by none other than Mrs. Periwinkle. Per her groom’s request she left her hair down in a long tangle of coppery gold curls. Her brilliant smile was all her own. Oh, and her shoes?
White with sapphire stars, of course.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jillian Eaton grew up in Maine and now resides in Pennsylvania. When she isn't writing, Jillian is doing her best to keep up with her three very mischievous dogs. She loves horses, coffee, getting email from readers, ducks, and staying up late finishing a good book.
She isn't very fond of doing laundry.
www.jillianeaton.com
Read on for a sneak peek at the first book in the Swan Sister’s Series, FOR THE LOVE OF LYNETTE, available now wherever e-books are sold!
Lynette Swan doesn’t want a husband. But if she has any hope of keeping her sisters out of the poor house she needs to find one, and fast. Courtesy of a past scandal, however, finding a man willing to marry her is easier said than done and soon Lynette is so desperate she’s willing to consider almost anyone. Even Lord Nathaniel Blackbourne, the rake responsible for ruining her reputation…and breaking her heart.
For the Love of Lynette
Swan Sisters, Book One
Chapter Three
“Are you awake yet?”
Blinking drowsily at the sound of a deep - and painfully familiar - masculine voice, Lynette’s dark lashes fluttered on her pale cheeks as she slowly drew herself up from the dregs of unconsciousness and began to take note of her surroundings, first and foremost being the other occupant in the room with her.
Nathaniel Blackbourne.
Feeling the heavy weight of a blanket slung low over her hips she dragged it up to her chin before daring to open one eye and then the other, as though revealing one half of Nathaniel at a time would somehow lessen the blow of discovering that it all hadn’t been a bad dream and he really had saved her from being run over from a carriage and now she was…well, come to think of it Lynette hadn’t the faintest idea where she was.
Somewhere in his house, she would imagine, as nothing in the bedroom looked familiar. Although why he would bring her to his own private residence instead of taking her home was a mystery. As were the current whereabouts of Delilah and Temperance. She remembered them shouting at her to look out and the panicked expression on both of their faces as she stumbled and fell in front of an oncoming carriage, but after that her memory dimmed and save looking up to see Nathaniel’s vivid green eyes glaring down at her as he cradled her in his arms on the side of the road she could recall nothing.
Of all the men in London, why did he have to be the one to save her?
Resentment burned in her eyes as she turned her head and scowled at him. Lounging comfortably in a large upholstered chair with his legs sprawled out in front of him and his chin perched in the palm of his hand, he met her gaze and lifted a brow.
“So you are awake. About bloody time. I have been waiting nearly an hour.”
Arrogant brute, Lynette fumed as she struggled into a sitting position. As a young, impressionable girl of seventeen she’d been helpless to resist his charms, but now she was a woman full grown and she knew exactly what sort of man was hiding behind that charming smile. He was a rake and a rogue and she hated him.
She hated him.
Clutching the blankets against her chest with one hand as she leaned back against the ornate wooden headboard, she used the other to push her dark, tangled hair out of her face. The ends were still damp, which meant she couldn’t have been passed out for very long although it was impossible to judge the time given that every curtain in the bedroom was drawn and the only source of light came from two matching candles set on either side of the bed.
“What am I doing here?” she demanded. When she spoke her voice was hoarse and a dull ache reverberated inside of her head, as though some invisible person was wielding a hammer against her skull. She felt horrible, although she supposed, all things considered, she could have felt a great deal worse had Nathaniel not dragged her away from the deadly wheels of the carriage. Filled with conflicting emotions, she glared at him, hating that he was still every bit as handsome as she remembered.
Surely time and a life poorly lived should have dulled his appearance, or at the very least added a thin veneer of verdigris. Instead, devil take him, he’d grown even more attractive with age. His hair was a bit longer, but the length helped to counterbalance his strong features and broad jaw. His eyes were still the same sharp emerald green that had captivated her all those years ago. At the moment they held a glimmer of amusement, although he would have done far better to display at least a hint of remorse or at the very least shame for the horrible way
he had treated her.
At her question his tawny brows drew together over the bridge of his nose and his mouth settled into a firm, flat line of thinly veiled annoyance. “You are here because I saved your life. You are welcome, by the by.”
Were Lynette in possession of Temperance’s unpredictable temper and penchant for saying whatever wild thought flew into her head, she might have made some scathing remark about how Nathaniel had ruined her life. But unlike her sister she was able to keep her emotions tightly contained and even though she would have much preferred to pick up the vase sitting on the bedside table and send it flying at his head, her expression remained completely neutral as she said, in a rather monotonous tone, “Thank you for saving my life. The effort you extended on my behalf is greatly appreciated.”
“There,” Nathaniel said with a smirking curl of his lips. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
Was he trying to incite her anger? For what possible purpose? Surely he didn’t think the actions he’d taken today made up for his actions all those nights ago by the fountain? If so, she was going to need to quickly disabuse him of such a notion. “Saving me from the carriage does not excuse nor erase your abominable behavior. You took advantage of me, Lord Townsend. And you did not even have the decency to own up to what you had done, but instead slithered away like the snake that you are. You might be able to fool others, but not me. I know who you are and what you have done and this – this new act of yours will not stand!”
It wasn’t exactly what Lynette had wanted to say if she ever crossed paths with Nathaniel again, but it was close enough. Chest heaving, head pounding, pulse racing, she waited with bated breath for his retaliation.
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