Chapter Nine
The next morning, as Pearce dressed and then took a light solitary breakfast in his chamber, he resolved to speak with Clara.
Despite his exhaustion, he had spent much of the night awake and staring at the dancing shadows on his walls as they acted out his worst nightmares.
Being back in his Scottish home—a place that had once been so full of life and love—would eat away at him if he did not have at least Clara’s acceptance, if not her complete understanding.
Even if he could not tell her why, he felt she deserved to know of his decision to remain childless. Perhaps then, their intimate life would be easier for him to manage once they both understood the boundaries.
But, Lord, what he wouldn’t give to be able to do away with those boundaries…
To be able to lose himself in her fully.
To sleep with Clara by his side each night, and wake to her each morning to do it all over again with the lazy dreaminess of sleep still slogging through their veins.
He had slept beside her at the inn, but that had been purely out of necessity, and both of them had remained mostly clothed. A disappointment, really.
One impression he had taken away from that encounter, however, was his wife’s energetic sleeping habits.
Even though he’d had more than a few drinks, he’d been aware enough to note how much she tossed and turned, how often she adjusted her pillow, how she kicked her feet to trap the coverlet between them and cocoon herself tight until she moved again ten minutes later.
Kempton had mentioned Clara was not an early riser by nature, and Pearce wondered if that might be from how restlessly she spent her nights—she exhausted herself even in sleep.
A flicker of a fond smile tilted the corner of his mouth before he banished it.
If he was going to be married, then he may as well give it an honest go.
It would take some large adjustments to his habits, but Clara was correct; he no longer had only himself to consider.
He’d promised Kempton that he would take care of his sister, and he had not done a very good job of it up to that point, allowing his demons to influence his behavior.
But he’d survived his first night back in the Edinburgh townhouse—too sated and exhausted to be completely overcome by the ghosts of his past—so he vowed to make the best of the situation.
He glanced at the clock and decided there was likely still time before Clara rose for the day. He requested his gloves and hat from Mrs. Tanner before slipping out the front door and onto Queen Street.
*
Clara awoke slowly to the sounds of an unfamiliar city outside her curtained window, stretching languidly as she listened to the clop of hooves and a voice speaking with a thick brogue.
Her dreamy peace lasted approximately three minutes before memories of the prior evening charged at her through her slowly awakening mind.
They came in flashes of images, sounds, and sensations so powerful that they made her skin flush from head to toe, heating her from the inside out.
She burrowed beneath the blankets, suddenly overcome by a confusing mixture of mortification and a pleasurable glow.
Women were expected to remain utterly chaste until marriage, but how was it fair that men could experience such awe-inspiring things while women remained ignorant?
She could hardly believe what she’d allowed—what she’d wanted!
—Pearce to do to her; that it had been Pearce, of all men.
The handsome, infuriating, worldly, sinfully knowledgeable man.
Never in all her life had she experienced something so transcendent, and she wondered, with shameless wantonness, when it might happen again.
She bit her lower lip and buried her face in her pillow to stifle a small squeal of disbelief.
Amelia had been correct; intimacy could be so overwhelmingly pleasurable…
then again, they hadn’t completed the act to her full expectations, had they?
He hadn’t allowed her to touch him, hadn’t removed a stitch of his own clothing, hadn’t possessed her with his body despite the obvious discomfort even her untutored eyes could recognize.
Clara could not help but wonder why, when it was his right and when it was something he so clearly desired, he would refrain?
There was a scratch at her door before Beth entered bearing a tray piled with her preferred morning meal.
A soft-boiled egg in a sterling silver cup, a tea service, bread toasted to golden-brown perfection, and a dainty serving of rich, warm chocolate.
It was an expensive little indulgence that she’d learned to love in London, and she always made sure to restock her supply when they traveled to Coylton Castle.
She wondered if the staff might have any issues continuing her ritual here in Edinburgh.
Beth set the tray on Clara’s lap and set about filtering through the wardrobe and drawers to locate the garments necessary for Clara to begin her day.
“The house is quite lovely, innit?” Beth chattered perkily, going on about how comfortable the servants’ quarters were despite being located in the basement.
“I’m quite looking forward to doing a bit of exploring when I have my off day. ”
“Be sure to take a footman or a local with you, Beth,” Clara cautioned.
Like any city, she knew Edinburgh could be dangerous if one wandered into the wrong areas.
She’d heard the ancient streets could be maze-like, too.
“I’d hate to have a search party sent out for you,” she added with an amiable smile before looking down once more and unfolding the pressed white napkin.
She was about to break her fast when she noticed a small green silk hinged box placed in the very center of the tray so she would not miss it. Her brows knit together in confusion. “What is this?” she asked her maid.
“Oh? The box?” Beth called distractedly from the wardrobe. “It was already on the tray when I retrieved it, and Mrs. Tanner made sure to tell me it was to be delivered with your meal. She did not say what it was and I did not think it was polite to ask—me being new here and all.”
Clara picked it up, slid aside the little gold hook latch, and opened it to discover nestled inside was a pair of diamond-and-emerald earbobs.
She gasped as the rich-green stones caught the light from the windows when Beth flung open the curtains to admit the late morning sunshine.
Each of the oval-shaped emeralds was surrounded by petals of small teardrop-shaped diamonds, creating a sunflower effect that was elegant in its simplicity.
The clarity and quality of the stones meant the jewelry must have cost a small fortune—one did not spend as much time amongst Society women without learning a thing or two about judging the worth of gemstones.
“My, but aren’t those stunning!” Beth gushed, having just seen what Clara was holding.
“They are, are they not?” Clara replied, a little in awe.
There was only one person who might have left them for her, and the thought made her heart do a little skipping jump in her chest. “Would you please prepare my morning gown with the green stripes?” she asked Beth.
She cared not that the earbobs should have been safeguarded and worn only for special events; they were beautiful, and she wanted to wear them. Why shouldn’t she?
And maybe she wanted to see if wearing her gift caused a glimmer of appreciation and pleasure in a certain pair of silver eyes.
*
Once she was fed and dressed, Clara located her husband reclining in a chair in the cozy library on the home’s main floor.
His booted feet were crossed at the ankle and resting upon the upholstered stool.
He was dressed as sharply as usual in a dark-gray coat, blue waistcoat, an impeccably knotted white cravat, and black breeches—every bit the distinguished lord.
At her entrance, he finished reading a few lines before marking his place in his book with a strip of embroidered ribbon and setting it aside.
She’d never watched him read before—other than when he idly skimmed a newspaper—and it felt very intimate.
When he looked up, she was surprised to discover that he wore a small pair of wire-rimmed spectacles on his nose.
“I did not realize you wore spectacles!” Clara announced, then immediately averted her eyes and silently chastised herself for the rudeness of her observation.
What if the reason she hadn’t seen him wear them before was because he hid them?
And there she went and pointed them out!
She peered at him from beneath her lashes and understood why—he somehow managed to look even more handsome with the spectacles.
Pearce quickly removed them and carefully placed them on the nearby side table. “I’ve always required them for reading both print and handwriting.” He seemed more than a little embarrassed at having been caught, and his sheepishness was utterly irresistible.
“But I have witnessed you reading the paper numerous times without the use of spectacles.”
“I have become very adept at feigning my capabilities when in public. I am usually able to parse out the larger print used for titles and headings, and then I can return to read what caught my interest later.”
“You’ve hidden your spectacles all this time?
” Feeling reassured that she hadn’t committed a truly grievous offense, she crossed the room and took up the chair opposite him.
Having stood when she entered, Pearce resumed his seat when she did and added, “They make me look and feel like the old man I am.” The words came out lightly, but she could tell he was anticipating a mocking reaction from her and intended to beat her to the chase.