Chapter 21
An Untouchable Placeholder
London
So far, Clara’s first official ball was not nearly as fun as she had expected.
The festivity was being held at the Viscountess Lady Coventry’s home.
The Coventrys were a large family, and Clara was well acquainted with the women.
The sisters had often hinted that Clara would be a good match for the oldest brother, Philip, and the ball had originally been planned for them to meet.
Now that Clara was intended for Lord Gallant, things were a bit different.
But am I intended for Lord Gallant? She wondered.
He had not actually proposed. Nor had they had any true outing together.
Technically, there was no understanding between them, though the queen had hinted there should be.
Do I encourage other suitors? Do I act as if I am already the future Duchess?
Clara had never been uncertain about her behavior in a social setting before, but she certainly was now.
She wore a pale yellow gown with a square neckline, a strand of pinky pearls around her neck.
Her sash was the same pink colour, as was her lace-lined fan.
Papa wore a brown suit, his dark hair finally speckling with grey.
Lord Merritt was just as popular as his daughter now that the political world was changing and everyone was fighting to have an earl on their side.
“Lady Clara! It is lovely to see you!” came the excited greeting of Miss Emily Astley. “Can you believe we are finally at our first ball?”
It was Emily Astley’s first time traveling to London, and though she and Clara had only met briefly, Miss Astley immediately assumed the role as Clara’s new companion.
Truthfully, they hardly knew each other, and Clara knew Emily was only trying to feed off her popularity.
It probably should have bothered her, but it didn’t. She desperately needed a friend.
“It is very exciting,” Clara did her best to sound chipper. “The next set should begin soon. Is there anyone you are hoping to dance with?”
Emily was a pretty girl, probably only eighteen, with a childish face.
Of course, her short height did not help either.
But surely, she would grow more, and she was stylishly blonde.
The Astleys were not a very prestigious family, but with Clara’s help, she could probably find a nice third son of a lord, or a prominent businessman to match her with.
“Oh, I am not picky,” Miss Astley whispered, “any future lord will do.” She scrunched her button nose playfully, but it was her green eyes that made Clara do a double take.
I have always loved green eyes.
“You are ambitious!” Clara whispered back.
“It will not be easy, but you have come to the right place.” She looped her arm around Miss Astley’s.
“Let me first bring your attention to the future baron, Marcus Smith. I am dear friends with his sister, Lady Alice Palmer.” While Clara loved Alice, the thought of marrying her brother held absolutely no appeal.
She had yet to see the man without a dribble of snot hanging from his nose.
In her heart, she knew it was not Marcus’s fault he had an aversion to everything, but she could not imagine being close with someone who’s mouth, nose, and eyes were constantly leaking.
Imagine kissing such a creature. The very thought made Clara shudder.
But if Miss Astley was hoping for a future lord, Marcus Smith was definitely the one with the smallest competition.
Emily seemed pleased with the introduction.
With Clara focusing not on her own concerns, but on helping another, she finally began to enjoy herself. As she danced with each gentleman, she did not think of them as a potential suitor for herself, but for the little Emily Astley.
All the dancing, matchmaking, and chatting was diverting, and Clara had nearly forgotten her troubles when the duke appeared. Lord Gallant was the highest ranking person present, and as such, the entire crowd stopped, mid-dance, to acknowledge his presence.
“Thank you,” Lord Gallant’s deep voice projected over the marble room. “Please, carry on.”
Clara had been dancing with Philip Coventry, but when the music started up again, the man stepped back. “Thank you for the dance, but I better not get in the duke’s way.” He looked frightened.
“Oh, I am sure he would not mind-” Philip did not wait for Clara to answer before he bolted off the dance floor. She held in an annoyed sigh as she attempted to escape the throng of dancers.
“Let me help you,” the duke whispered in her ear as he suddenly appeared at her side.
Seizing her hand, he led her from the ballroom and out onto the open back balcony.
“How is the ball so far?” he asked, looking around excitedly at the group of patrons.
His black suit matched his head of hair perfectly, and made him look quite handsome.
He truly was an amazing catch, Clara just wasn't interested.
“Well, it is my first ball, so I am not sure I am capable of assessing it.” One thing she did know was she would much rather be in the throng of it than off on the sideline.
Thankfully, Isaac seemed to feel the same way.
As soon as the next set started, they moved out to the dance floor.
He was a proficient dancer and a fun conversationalist, but he definitely was not her favorite dance partner.
Your favorite dance partner is not here, her brain mocked.
Clara’s mind was whipped back to the Twelfth Night celebration—finding the pea and Luke appearing in his knight ensemble.
And then the feeling of being loved and cherished by the baron as he gently led her throughout the dance floor.
There had been something so safe, and yet so pleasurable, as her best friend had whisked her around the ballroom.
Being in Luke’s arms had been thrilling.
But I am not finding anything about this ball thrilling, she mentally confessed.
Not one dance had come remotely close to dancing with Luke.
Everything seemed dull, forced, and pointless.
There was no point in dancing with the men, her choice had already been stripped from her.
She could converse with the women to some extent, but no young lady wanted to be chatting with Clara when they could be out on the dance floor.
Now that Isaac had appeared, she was even more unsure what to do. They danced a full set together before he walked her back to her father. Then he immediately found another partner. Clara stood on the sideline for half an hour, but the duke was here, and no one dared approach her with him watching.
He is not watching! She mentally argued.
He is dancing! Just like I could be! But what did it matter?
Her path had been chosen for her, and until Lord Gallant decided he was ready to wed, she would be left waiting.
A focal point, the talk of the town, but not yet a person of purpose.
The future Lady Gallant. The future Duchess of Preston.
But for now, an untouchable placeholder.
In the eyes of the ton, her worth was pending, in a situation that was out of her control.
“I would like to go,” Clara told Papa. There were still several hours of the dance left, but she wasn't in the mood. “Please, let's go.”
Spain
Luke was thoroughly enjoying the time with his family.
He helped his mother care for the children, assisted Alfonso in chores around the house, and fell asleep on the floor next to his little brother’s bed.
The hustle and bustle of his everyday life was gone, and it gave him plenty of time to breathe, relax, and think.
Slowly, the memory of Clara was becoming less painful.
He could finally think of her without reflecting on the rejected proposal.
As long as he did not think of her for very long.
John graciously accepted whatever role was thrown at him, but after three weeks the man must have grown bored.
Each day, his horseback ride stretched a bit longer.
What began as only an hour-long ride gradually became two or three hours away from the villa.
“Do you think he has found a miss?” Mother asked one day when John was out particularly long.
“I had not thought of that,” Luke answered in reply. “That would be interesting.” John had never shown any interest in a particular lady before.
A few days later, Luke spotted long, brown hairs on John’s riding clothes. Perhaps he is seeing someone. But it truly wasn’t any of his business.
After another month, Luke finally built up the courage to give his mother Clara’s letter.
He knew delivering it to her would give her the chance to ask questions he did not want to answer, but he could not put it off much longer.
Their trip was nearly halfway over, and while Clara’s rejection had been a sensitive topic, it had happened nearly three months before!
Surely he had a better grip on his emotions at this point.
“Lady Clara asked me to deliver this to you,” Luke said, pulling the envelope out over breakfast that morning.
“Ahhh,” Mother nodded. “We are finally going to discuss what is going on?” She did not wait for him to answer as she opened the letter.
It was fairly long and took several minutes to read.
Manuel had already finished his meal and was begging to play outdoors.
“Shoo,” Mother said with a wave of her hand as she folded the note back up.
The boy happily left the wooden table. John was out for his ride. Alfonso was at work, and little Isabella slept in the other room. It was just Luke and Mother, like it had often been in his younger years.
“What did she say?” Luke whispered. He wasn’t sure what questions his mother would want answered.
Mother ignored him and instead stood, walking over to her son and wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders.
“I am sorry, Luke,” she whispered into his hair.
“That was a very brave thing you did. I am sorry it did not end the way you wanted.” She patted his curly head, and Luke felt like a young boy again.
Like little Manuel, who ran to his mother to get a kiss for every small scrape.
“I really wanted her to be my wife.” His heart ached just saying the words.
“Of course you did.” Mother rubbed his back. “She is a sweet girl, but there will be other girls. You will see.”
But Luke’s heart had belonged to Clara for so long, he did not believe it could ever find its way to another. “What did she say in the letter?” A question that had been on his mind since he first laid eyes on it.
Mother released him and returned to her seat.
She picked up the paper and began to read.
The first page asked questions about Isabella and Manuel, and Mother’s life in general.
Clara expressed her joy to hear Mother could embroider once more, and shared several other ‘Clara-loving-people’ remarks.
The words were obviously from his love, and Luke’s heart both rose and fell hearing them.
And then Mother pulled out the second piece of parchment:
It is possible Luke has told you by now, but I wanted you to understand why I could not marry your son.
He is an amazing man. One of the best I have ever known.
In fact, he is my best friend, and I have loved him for some time now.
But my love did not match his, and I know I would not be a good fit for him.
Luke would be truly miserable having to keep up with my social schedule.
I wish I had realized his intentions, so I could have dissuaded him from proposing as he did.
It was beautifully romantic and sweet. My heart broke having to reject such a thoughtful gesture from someone I care so deeply for.
I truly am sorry for the pain I have caused him.
I never meant to hurt him. I am disappointed to not have you as a mother-in-law.
I respect you so greatly. Please, take care of Luke while he is gone. I worry for him.
Lady Clara Merritt
And in that moment, Luke discovered three months was not nearly enough time to mend his broken heart.
The sorrow washed over him again—Clara's rejection, losing the Merritts, knowing he would eventually have to go home to his big empty house.
“I would have done anything for her,” he whispered as the tears started prickling his eyes.
“No social schedule would be as miserable as being without her.”
Mother didn’t say anything as she stood from her chair, wrapping her arms around him once more, holding him protectively, just as Clara had asked her to.
And while Luke sobbed in his mother’s arms, he felt comforted.
Strengthened. Like he finally had the closure he had been seeking.
His problems did not go away, in fact, they were more out in the open than they were before.
But he did not have to fight this battle alone.
He had two families who loved him and wanted what was best for him.
Even if he had to be separated from them, just knowing they cared bolstered him in a huge way.
His tears dried quickly, but he continued to hug his mother until little Isabella began to fuss in the other room.
“I will get her,” Luke said tenderly as he led Mother back to her seat.
“Finish your breakfast.” So, the baron rocked his baby sister in the creaky wooden rocking chair.
The dark-headed baby girl, with the same green eyes as the rest of the family, cooed happily, and Luke cooed right on back as he playfully tickled her little round tummy.
The baby’s tiny giggle was infectious, and Luke giggled back.
It almost made him laugh thinking how terrified he had been of the children that first day. Now that he had come to know them, he found he much preferred children to adults.
His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Mother commented from the doorway, “You will make a great father.” Luke had not realized he had an audience. Soundlessly, she walked over and took the baby from his arms. Isabella clutched her mama’s brown curls as they both settled in.
“And I would love to have some grandchildren to spoil,” Mother whispered with a gleam in her eye.
A strange comment from a woman holding her own baby girl.
“Perhaps you should give love a second chance.” Though if she meant loving Clara or a new woman, Luke could not say, and he was too afraid to ask.