Chapter Five #2
“Lady Clarice it is. As I was saying, I can’t believe that you and Letitia are widows.
Being young and widowed isn’t easy. I’m going to offer some advice.
People, mostly gentlemen, treat you differently, and whatever you do, do not dance with the Duke of Westport.
Come up with an excuse. He is a horrible creature. ”
Clarice and Letitia exchanged glances before Letitia said, “I disliked him immediately, but thank you for the warning.”
“Yes,” Clarice chimed in. “The first thing I thought when he leered down the front of my gown was that he was a vile creature. Much like my dead husband.” She slapped her hand against her mouth and mumbled through her fingers. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Yes,” the countess said, “but your secrets are safe with us. Even though Emmeline and I are no longer young widows, we consider both of you to be one of us now. I’d say the more, the merrier, but I wouldn’t wish widowhood on anyone.”
“Except for Clarice,” Letitia said with a frown. “She is glad to be widowed.”
“Letitia,” she groaned, “please don’t go around saying such things. People will think I’m a horrible person.”
Letitia reached out, took her hand, and squeezed it. “You are a wonderful person. One of the kindest I have ever met, never forget that.”
Having never had a female friend until she met Letitia, Clarice fought back a lump in her throat. “Thank you. That is very kind of you.” Tears threatened her eyes. “You are all very kind.”
“Please call me Emmaline, and the countess Lilly, when it’s appropriate to do so. Friends shouldn’t have to be so formal and use titles while in private conversation. After all, we did become acquainted last summer at the Waterford house party.”
“We did, and I was so very glad when you and Blackstone got married. Not to mention when Caldwell did. Everyone thought he was interested in me, but he never was. We became good friends during those two weeks and nothing more. Although I haven’t seen him since.
” Clarice glanced around the large room, hoping for a glimpse of Caldwell.
She had missed him. He was so easy to be around.
It was the first time in years she hadn’t had to hide her feelings from someone.
“He said he was attending tonight,” Lilly remarked as she looked around. “But you know Caldwell, he’s always running late.”
One moment, she was laughing about Caldwell, and the next, Clarice couldn’t find a speck of air to breathe. Her body stilled, and everything in the room faded away, including all occupants, except for the one man standing across the room, staring directly at her.
Samuel Radcliff.
She had always known she would run into him eventually, and she thought she had prepared herself for seeing him, but her mind and body had other ideas.
They were frozen and unable to work. After what seemed like hours, which was actually only seconds, she gasped for air, her body quivered from head to toe, and her knees wanted to buckle, threatening to send her tumbling to the floor.
Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Instead, blindly, she grabbed the nearest arm and held on for dear life.
“Clarice,” Emmeline said, her voice sounding far away and muffled. “Are you unwell?”
After taking several gulps of air, she replied, “Yes. No. Maybe. Samuel . . . the Duke of Stanton is staring at me.” She bravely looked directly at him, and when their eyes connected, he turned his back on her. “Well, he was looking at me.”
Emmeline looked concerned, as did Lilly and Letitia. “I know you two have a past. Would you care to go outside and get some fresh air?” Emmeline asked.
Fresh air sounded wonderful. Could she really make it that far without collapsing?
“Yes. Thank you.” Knowing she needed support, Emmeline wrapped her arm through Clarice’s and the four of them casually strolled out the double doors onto the veranda, which was surprisingly empty, except for one couple just beginning to descend the stairs into the gardens.
Clarice stood with her hands on the railing, and Letitia came to stand beside her. “Just breathe slowly and steadily. That will help your heart slow down and ease your shaking body.”
“Thank you,” Clarice replied, feeling grateful to have these friends supporting her.
As everything started to return to normal, she said softly, “I always knew I would run into Samuel again one day. I believed I would act calm, sophisticated, and worldly. When in actuality, I broke into a million tiny pieces inside.” She exhaled shakily. “Do you think anyone noticed?”
Lilly said calmly, “Worrying about what others think about you is pointless. And honestly, I don’t believe anyone in the ballroom was paying attention to you, so the answer to your question is no.”
“Thank you all for being so kind to me. During my marriage to Chesterfield, I felt very alone. He went out daily and most nights, but we never socialized together as a married couple. He didn’t allow me to have visitors or visit anyone.
I was essentially a prisoner in his home.
I never even saw my mother. It wasn’t until after his death that Letitia and I became friends. So thank you.”
“We are your friends now,” Lilly said with a sad smile. “You went from no friends to one friend to now having three. Please reach out to us at any time.”
Clarice fumbled with her reticle’s opening, took out her embroidered blue-and-green floral handkerchief, and dabbed her tears away.
“Thank you.” As she pulled herself together, she knew what she had to do.
She needed to speak with Samuel. If she didn’t, these panicky, overwhelming feelings would never end.
She would be a bundle of nerves at every social event she attended, wondering if she would run into him.
Nothing would change, and she wouldn’t be able to move on until she faced the past and made peace with it.
*
The moment Samuel’s eyes landed on Clarice’s beautiful face across the room, he locked his knees because they nearly buckled, sending him tumbling to the floor.
Last Season, he managed never to run into her.
Too bad his luck had run out. It wasn’t that he blamed her for anything that happened between them, or for what her father did to him.
However, seeing her brought back all his bad memories along with the good ones.
Damn his traitorous heart inside his chest. It wanted to reach out and join with hers, even after all the years that had passed.
Seven, to be exact. Seven long, lonely years spent with his thoroughbred horses, wiling away the time.
His horses meant everything to him. Most people he could take or leave, except for his two friends from Eton, who had stood beside him forever.
Without Archibald Fitzroy, the Viscount Greyson, and Mr. Jacob Hunter, he would have given up on life a long time ago.
He credited them with saving his life. Credited them for being able to get up in the morning.
For him continuing to breathe on a daily basis.
No finer friends existed anywhere in the world.
“Don’t look,” Samuel said, “but Clarice is here talking with the Duchess of Blackstone, the Countess of Langford, and another lady I don’t recognize.” He nearly smacked Hunter on the back. “I said, don’t look.”
“You realize that when someone says ‘don’t look,’ the person automatically looks.”
“He’s right, Stanton,” Greyson interjected.
“Yes, well. Anyway, what the bloody hell am I supposed to say to her if the opportunity arises?”
“How about you start with, ‘Good evening, Marchioness. How nice to see you again’,” Greyson said seriously.
Samuel groaned. “Yes. Greetings are easy. What if she asks about other things?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Hunter added. “No sense worrying about what you’ll say until the time comes. And when it does, I have faith in you that you’ll say all the right things.”
“I’m glad you have faith in me, because mine just ran out the door.”
“You can relax now,” Greyson said. “She went out on the veranda with the other ladies.”
Samuel took a deep breath and exhaled; instantly, his body calmed.
However, his mind did not. It played through all the different scenarios of what he could or should say to her.
To this day, he honestly didn’t know if she knew what had happened to him.
And he didn’t want to burden her with that guilt by sharing the story if she didn’t know.
Still, someone was bound to tell her eventually.
The ton loved to gossip and spill secrets.
“Don’t look now,” Hunter said, his eyes wide and anger flickering across his features. “The blackguard himself, the Earl of Portsmouth, just entered the ballroom.”
Samuel swayed, and his friend Greyson reached out his hand to steady him. “He has some nerve,” Greyson droned.
Hunter said angrily, “I heard he’s looking to marry again, hoping for a male heir.”
“Christ,” Samuel raked his hand through his shoulder-length, dark hair. “What father would marry his daughter to a man like him?”
Hunter snorted, “You would be surprised what some will do to procure a title for their daughter.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Samuel mumbled as he swallowed.
“I need to be alone for a minute.” Without making eye contact with anyone, he exited the ballroom and wandered down a corridor until he found the first empty room, a small salon.
He was drawn to a large window overlooking a small garden lit up with lanterns and full of flowing plants and trees.
With his arms crossed behind his back, he rocked back on his heels and stared outside, no longer seeing the pretty garden, but recalling Clarice and him when they were young, sitting in Stanton Hall’s gardens with their heads together in private conversation.
Soon, he felt a presence behind him, making every nerve ending in his body take notice. “You followed me?” he said without turning.
“So you do acknowledge that you know who I am?”
Her voice, soft yet tense, made him realize how much he missed hearing it. “Did you truly believe I would ever forget you?” The sudden, painful dryness in his throat took him by surprise.
She sighed. “No. As I have never forgotten you. How have you been?”
Her question had him fighting back laughter brought on by nerves and sadness. He cleared his throat and mumbled, “I’ve been well. And you?”
Soft, nervous laughter trickled into his ears. “I’ve been good. Are you going to keep staring out the window, or will you turn around and look at me?”
“Forgive me,” he said, his body tensing in preparation for facing her.
When he did, he almost stumbled. Their eyes met—hers still a warm brown, but guarded and more worldly.
No longer the innocent eyes he remembered.
He briefly looked her up and down, realizing she had changed very little in seven years.
Would she think he looked the same? Perhaps on the outside, but never on the inside.
“You look beautiful.” Pink shaded her cheeks. He’d always loved making her blush.
“Thank you. You look much the same.” Her hands fiddled with her fan, opening and closing it.
Her eyes were cast down, and her body shifted from one foot to the other.
Eventually, she calmed, lifted her head, and looked deep into his eyes.
It was now his turn to squirm under her scrutiny.
“After I was widowed, I kept hoping you would visit me.”
Oh, how he’d wanted to. During her year of mourning, he didn’t dare; over the past year, though, he fought with himself about doing just that.
But when she was rumored to be involved with Mr. James Caldwell, he gave up on the illusion that they would ever be together.
No sense lying to her. “I thought about it many times. But I didn’t want to interfere with your relationship with Caldwell. ”
He observed her body language and facial expressions, hoping she would reveal some of her secrets. Because he had no doubt she possessed some. Deep, dark secrets. She gave away nothing. “Caldwell and I were friends and nothing more. He is happily married now.”
“There were rumors.”
“Humph. There are always rumors. Some are true. Some are false. Those rumors were false.”
“Did you know your father is here tonight?”
Her mouth opened and closed, her eyes widened, and she groaned as she shook her head from side to side.
“No. But truthfully, I knew he would be here. Nobody misses the Westport Ball since it’s the official opening of the Season, especially not someone seeking a young bride.
” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Thinking about my father replacing my mother with some young debutante disgusts me.”
“Many older titled men marry young ladies solely for the purpose of producing a male heir. Usually, the bride’s family is happy to overlook the age difference if it means marrying into the family of a wealthy, titled lord.
” Her face flicked to his, and the anguish he glimpsed in her eyes and on her face made his insides tighten at the thought of speaking such callous words.
“My apologies,” he hurried to say. “That was rude and uncalled for.”
“You must hate me!” she exclaimed.
He inhaled and exhaled to steady himself for the conversation that was about to begin. “I could never hate you. It’s not in my power to do so.”