Kiss the Wallflower: Books 4-6

by Gill, Tamara

  “Visiting that dreadful sister of his, I assume. Remember, Clara what fun we had during Lady Graham’s first Season?” Julia turned to the women about them. “We did not like them you see. Mr. Grant was quite rude and cutting toward Lady Clara and so we ensured we never went out of our way to befriend her or make her welcome. We succeeded too.”

  “Except Miss Grant became the Marchioness Graham. So I suppose we did not in truth,” Clara said, wanting to remind Julia that Miss Grant had become a marchioness while she had only married an earl. As for Clara she had not married anyone.

  Clara looked down at her gown of blue muslin with a silk underlay. It was so very fine and pretty, and she’d made the extra effort tonight knowing Stephen would be in attendance. All day her stomach had fluttered at the thought of seeing him again. He did not disappoint. He was as handsome as she remembered and after all they had suffered through together, she wanted to go up to him and speak to him again. She wanted to know how he was. Was he happy? Did he miss her as much as she missed him?

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. She was not happy. Had not been so for a very long time and could not remember the last time she laughed. Certainly it would’ve been back when they were at Chidding Hall together.

  “Why Mr. Grant is back in London is anyone’s guess. It’s not like he has a fortune. He’s a son of nobody knows who. Surely he does not think to make an advantageous marriage within our sphere.”

  Clara cast a glance his way and from the way women of her acquaintance were lapping up his every word she concurred that Lady Davenport was wrong about that. He would make an advantageous marriage, especially for a woman of wealth who wanted the connection of nobility. Mr. Grant was, after all, the brother-in-law to one of the most influential marquesses in England and one of the wealthiest.

  “You’re wrong, Julia. Mr. Grant I should imagine will marry well and soon if his popularity is any indication. Do not be so judgmental. If you keep scowling, those lines between your brows will become permanent.”

  Julia gasped and yet her eyes were as cold as ice. “Clara, how could you say such a thing to me? I thought we were friends.”

  Clara shrugged, taking in all the sets of wide-eyed women staring at her after her words. None of them did she care about. Certainly, she did not care what their opinion of her would be, or if they would include her in forthcoming events should she follow her heart. Only one person did she care for and she’d thrown him away as if he were worthless, when in truth, this world she occupied, the fickle and fake friendships she’d made over the years, those were what was really worthless.

  Not the genuine man who had aided, supported and loved her all of those weeks in Kent.

  He did love her. That she was sure about more than anything else in the world, but did he love her still? He’d never said the words, but they were there, every day he showed his affection by being her pillar of strength, her support, in every touch and look, not to mention his wicked kisses.

  “We are friends, Julia, but I find that my behavior over the last few years toward Mr. Grant and his family was shameful. He’s a good man, just as his sisters did not deserve our slights and wicked remarks. We, all of us, owe them an apology. We should not like to be treated in such a way.”

  “No one would dare treat us in that way,” Julia said, smirking as if Clara were making a joke.

  “Not to your face at least,” Clara said, dipping into a curtsy and leaving. She ignored the startled gasps from her friends, and sought out Lady Graham. She owed her an apology first and foremost and then she would find Stephen and remove him from the ladies who thought to win his affections. They were not his to give to anyone else for they were hers and hers alone.

  Clara found Lady Graham standing beside her husband, the woman’s eyes clouding in unease as Clara came up to them. She dipped into a curtsy, smiling a little to try to put the woman at ease. How awful of her to have treated her ladyship so appallingly simply because she had once harbored hopes toward the Marquess being her husband.

  “Good evening, Lady Graham. My lord,” she said, coming to stand beside her.

  Her ladyship threw her husband a look of bewilderment before smiling at Clara. The gesture did not reach her ladyship’s eyes and Clara sighed, hoping she could make things right between them. No matter what had happened between her and Stephen, she did want her feud with Lady Graham to come to an end.

  “Good evening, Lady Clara. It is good to see you back in town.”

  Clara nodded, glancing back out toward where she’d left her friends. Most if not all of them had noted her location and many were watching with rapt attention. No doubt they expected Clara to be her usual, cutting self.

  Clara turned to face her ladyship. “This may seem a little strange, and out of nowhere, but I wanted to apologize to both you and the Marquess. I have been abominably rude in the past, cutting and frankly a trial to be around, and neither of you deserved my atrocious behavior. This is quite forward of me I know to be so outspoken, but for whatever it is worth, I am sorry for my actions in the past and I want you both to know that it will never happen again.” Clara glanced back to where she’d seen Stephen last and she shivered at seeing him watching her, his dark, contemplative gaze fixed on her person.

  Lady Graham reached out and clasped her hand, squeezing it a little. “Thank you, Lady Clara for your apology. It is most readily accepted and I do hope we’re able from this night on to be friends.”

  Clara turned back and smiled at her ladyship, pleasure coursing through her at her ladyship’s words. “I would like that too, my lady. Very much.”

  * * *

  Stephen watched to see his sister’s reaction to Clara coming over to speak to her, but from the delight and animated conversation they were now having after a stifled start, they looked for all the world to see as if they were old, reunited friends.

  He narrowed his eyes, wondering at it. Inane chatter floated about him regarding the weather, gossip and the latest betrothals to be announced about London from his shadow for the evening, Miss Huxtable. He couldn’t understand why she had taken a liking to him all of a sudden or why she and her gaggle of friends found his conversation so very interesting.

  Stephen stifled a sigh, wanting to escape and yet not knowing how he could without causing offense.

  “Do you not agree, Mr. Grant?”

  His gaze shot to the women about him, each of their gazes set on him as if he was about to impart some grand advice they could not live without. “I do apologize, what was the question?” He shook himself out of being distracted by the woman who bothered him to no end and concentrated on the conversation at hand.

  “We were discussing the merits of marriage. That a woman of wealth marrying a gentleman of little means is looked upon more favorably than a man of wealth marrying a woman of little wealth or connections. Do you not agree?”

  Stephen swallowed, well aware that each of the women who stood before him were heiresses, but with fathers who were lower ranked on the nobility ladder. He supposed his connection to the Marquess Graham, one of the richest lords in England had something to do with his newfound popularity.

  Not to mention he’d heard whispers about town that his association with the Duke of Law’s daughter had been noted.

  “I must admit that I have not given the notion much thought, but I think that if a couple were to marry, I would hope that they cared for, if not loved, each other. I dislike the idea that wealth or connections would sway the union.” Such as it had with Clara and him. He clamped his mouth shut lest he say anything else. The women before him did not know what had transpired between him and Clara, nor did they know their conversation grazed very close to his own truth.

  That his love had been thrown back in his face simply because he was not titled. That Clara was worried what society would say about her marriage to him.

  He knew what they would say. That he’d married her for her money and that she had married beneath her status. That his fam
ily had carried on their coup of marrying titled rich people of the beau monde.

  Little did it matter that his sisters adored and loved their husbands and long saw past their husbands’ titles to the men who were beneath all that finery. Stephen had seen past Clara and the decoration piece she was when in town to the woman beneath. The one who had a heart, cared deeply and loved passionately.

  Now that he was back in London he wasn’t sure if there was any future between them. Tonight was the first time he’d seen her in four months and the sight of her almost brought him to his knees. Her gown of blue muslin draped over her body like a second skin. Her lithe figure and creamy white skin were as perfect as he remembered and he ached to take her in his arms, to pull her close and kiss the little freckle that sat directly beneath her ear.

  He wanted her, but he wanted her to want him too. Love him for who he was, even if that was someone who was not of her stature.

  He sipped from his glass of wine when the Earl Darwin bowed before her, asking for her hand in a dance. He gritted his teeth, finishing the drink instead of storming into the middle of the ballroom and ripping her from his lordship’s arms.

  Stephen inwardly groaned when the first strains of a waltz commenced and Clara smiled as his lordship pulled her into his arms. For a moment his gaze fixated on the bastard’s hand as it held her waist before he bowed to the women about him. “If you’ll excuse me.” He strode from the room, heading toward the terrace doors. Anywhere but where he could see Clara smiling and enjoying herself in another’s arms. A man’s arms whom she deemed worthy of her rank. A man who by fortune of birth was an earl.

  “Mr. Grant. Are you well? You left us so suddenly.”

  He let go of the balustrade he was leaning on. Damn it, he cringed at the sound of Miss Huxtable’s voice behind him. Why the devil had she followed him? He looked up the terrace and spotted only one other couple. Relief poured through him that they were at least not alone.

  “I’m very well, thank you. The room is simply a little warm.”

  Her gaze flicked over him in an assessing manner and he raised his brow at her candor. “You should return inside, Miss Huxtable before you’re missed.”

  She sauntered up to him and he glanced back to where the other couple had been only to see that they had disappeared. He took a step back, his legs hitting the stone balustrade and halting his escape.

  “Mama will not miss me.” She grinned and he inwardly cursed. “Will you waltz out here with me?”

  “Miss Huxtable, go back inside at once before you ruin yourself.”

  Stephen’s gaze whipped to the doors and to where Lady Clara stood, a disapproving frown on her normally pretty visage.

  “My lady,” Miss Huxtable said, dipping into a curtsy and scuttling back inside as if the devil himself was nipping at her silk slippers.

  Stephen leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms. “Lady Clara. It’s been a long time.” Too damn long. He took in every delicious morsel that was Clara, soaking her up after months of not seeing her, hearing her voice. He’d missed her more than he’d thought he would. Stephen had told himself it was for the best that they parted when they did. Before too many emotions became involved. Before anyone lost their heart. But seeing her standing before him, a look of disapproval on her face, well, it only hammered home how much he’d been fooling himself.

  No matter what she thought or the words spoken on his lack of breeding, he was in love with her. Had been in love with her for quite some time if he were honest with himself.

  She stepped out onto the flagstones, coming to stand before him. “What do you think you’re doing out here with Miss Huxtable? If her father caught you in such a position, he’d have you married within the week.”

  He shrugged. “Miss Huxtable is a sweet girl. I’m sure marriage to her would not be a trial.” The narrowing of Clara’s eyes brought forth a wave of pleasure. He wanted her to be annoyed. Wanted her to see what she’d lost.

  Him…

  Chapter 14

  Clara fought not to scratch Stephen’s eyes out over his blind stupidity. Did he not realize that if he compromised a debutante he’d be forced to marry her? Clara pushed away the knowledge that she only cared about such things because if Stephen married someone else it would mean he could not marry her.

  She sighed, hating that she’d pushed him away. That she’d hurt him with a truth that held no sway on her anymore. Having been back in society these past weeks had proven to her that she no longer cared what her friends thought of those ranked lower than them. Those with more or less funds at their disposal.

  Walking out onto the terrace this evening and seeing Stephen with another woman… Now that she did care about. It had taken all her years of learning to behave like a lady should to stop her from grabbing Miss Huxtable by her curls and hurling her back inside with an almighty push.

  “Miss Huxtable is not for you.”

  He scoffed, shaking his head. “Let me guess as to why, my lady. Because I’m not rich enough to satisfy her father? Some people, you forget, do not let such facts influence their choice.”

  “I suppose you mean that I allow such prejudices to influence my choices.” She moved along the terrace and heard him follow her. “I suppose I have allowed such opinions to do so, but it was only because of the circumstances of my birth and my upbringing that guided me into that way of thinking.”

  “Does not change the fact that yet again you’ve stepped into my life and halted what could possibly be a future for me. Miss Huxtable is a delightful girl and who didn’t seem to be inclined to care about my lowly birth. Perhaps it would be best if you returned inside and had Miss Huxtable join me again on the terrace.”

  Clara unfisted her hands at her sides, and fought to calm her heart. How dare he threaten her with such actions? She ought to call his bluff and return to the ballroom and do exactly what he’d asked. She cast a glance at him at her side, his hands clasped behind his back as they strolled along a darkened portion of the terrace. “How changeable men are. One moment you were courting me and here you are, at a ball in London and attempting to court others if my observations of you this evening are correct.”

  Stephen barked out a laugh, the sound condescending. “That opinion could be said of you as well, my lady. Four months past you were in my arms, all heat and passion, and here you are doing the same as I, since I’m not worthy of your hand.”

  Clara glared at him. “I ought to marry a lord, someone rich and titled, heaven knows plenty have been trying to court me.” All true, since her return to town, her multiple estates and money had been a beacon of light for those who would court such wealth. All of the gentlemen had paled in comparison to the one who stood beside her. How she had fallen for the man who had vexed, challenged and rudely rebuffed her at times astounded her still, but she had and now no one else would do for her.

  She wanted him.

  Not that she was willing to spout such truths. The sight of him with Miss Huxtable had halted that notion. For the moment at least.

  “Such an outcome would certainly make your friends happy.”

  Clara took a step back as he advanced on her. His eyes bored into her and left her steps unsteady. He looked so angry and annoyed and God help her, she was glad of it. Glad he was showing some emotion after all this time apart. She had thought him completely lost and indifferent only today after four months of not seeing him. His reactions to her words certainly gave rise to hope.

  A hope that after what she’d said to him, she did not deserve to have.

  “It would. It would make them extremely happy,” she taunted.

  Another step forward. Another step back. Clara slipped around him and started for the corner of the house. They did not need to be seen arguing and she had little doubt that was exactly what they were about to do. If not worse than they already were.

  This side of the house they only had the moonlight to guide their way and Clara stood at the terrace balustrade, looking
over the shadowy gardens beyond.

  “Do you mean that?” he asked, his words low and tremulous behind her.

  She shut her eyes, knowing it was the time for truth. “No. I do not.”

  * * *

  Stephen leaned forward, unsure he’d heard Clara right. No? Did that mean... He turned her to face him, her beauty catching him by surprise for a moment before he steeled himself to find out the truth. “What does that mean?”

  He didn’t let her go. Couldn’t if he were honest. He’d wanted to touch her for months now, to hear her voice, to be with her as they had been in Kent. His hands slid down her arms, the softness of her skin as smooth as the silk gloves she wore.

  She glanced up at him and he read the longing in her eyes and he wanted to comfort her. To tell her the truth about their time apart, but he could not. Not yet.

  “I was wrong, Stephen. So very wrong, and now I fear it is too late.”

  “No.” It was never too late. Not for what he hoped she was about to say. “Tell me, Clara. Tell me what you’re thinking.” Or he would expire if she did not.

  “Our parting has been one of the loneliest times I’ve ever endured. After you left I threw myself into looking after my estates, the staff and farms, but I could not get you out of my mind. I realized I made a mistake in sending you away. In fact, I came after you the day you left, but you could not hear me calling. And now tonight, seeing the many women fawn at your feet, well, I knew I had to tell the truth before it was too late.”

  He bit back a grin at her words, not quite believing what she was saying. “And that was?” he asked.

  “I was wrong how I spoke to you all those months ago in Kent. After what Lord Peel wrote about us I was frightened I’d be ruined and my prospects along with it. But then being back in town I realized that I held more power than I gave myself credit for. Daughter to the late Duke of Law and all that position entails makes me immune to a lot of Lord Peel’s nastiness. People know my character, and they will not believe his lordship’s words. While some of my friends may slight me in society over my choice of husband, those who do are not the ones worthy of my friendship.”