Chapter 34 - William
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR- WILLIAM
"Itruly did hurt her," William said.
Claire didn't look up from where she scratched a pen in one of her journals. William had come directly to her bedroom after that terrible interlude with Dahlia at the café.
She didn't lift her head. "Is this where I'm supposed to pretend I don't know what you're talking about? Should I feign shock and say, 'Who, William, who could you possibly have hurt?'"
He sighed and slumped onto the sofa, staring into the low crackling fire. In his peripheral vision, he saw Claire glance up and frown.
"Apologies, William. I've had a trying day."
He nodded absently. "I suppose I didn't realize the depth of the injury. I thought perhaps I had grazed her feelings; I didn't realize I had damaged them beyond repair."
"Did she say that?" Claire cocked her head.
"She might as well have. She's angry with me."
A slow smile spread over Claire's face. "Anger is far better than disinterest."
"Is it?" He huffed a laugh. "It did not feel like it at the time, believe me."
"If Dahlia Warrington were not interested in you, she would treat you much like she does her other suitors. She wouldn’t care if you were around or not.
She would barely notice. As it is, every time you’re in the same room together, one of you provokes the other.
That isn't disinterest. She feels something for you. "
"That hardly matters if what she feels is hate."
Claire laughed, a rough rasping noise that made him think she was severely out of practice. "It's not hate either. I've seen the way Dahlia looks at you, and it's not hate."
"Have you seen the way she looks at me lately? Because I saw how she looked at me today. It certainly felt like hate."
"You hurt her.”
"I've already said as much." He sighed. "I don't mean to snap at you. Where do I go from here?"
"You need to give her something that those other men cannot. Something that they're not willing to give."
"What do you mean?”
“I have no doubt that you can buy her thoughtful trinkets and flowers and all the other things that might come commonly with courting. The trouble is that all those other gentlemen can do the same. But your advantage is that you're willing to go beyond that, aren't you?"
"Of course. I want to marry her. I've already said as much."
It felt vulnerable for him to admit it again, even to his sister, when things were going so poorly.
He wanted to scowl. Perhaps he was the spoiled, petulant child that Dahlia claimed he was, for he certainly wanted his way in this matter.
Though not at her expense, he quickly added.
It just put him in a foul mood that things were not going well.
"You must give her something that none of the other men can give," Claire repeated. "You must give her parts of yourself."
"I would shave off my left arm if it accomplished something, but I hardly see how disfiguration would achieve the goal."
"Don't be purposefully obtuse. I don't find you nearly as amusing as Dahlia does.”
“I assure you she's not amused with me at all at the moment.”
“Share parts of you that you’ve not shared with anyone else.
Tell her the truth about who you are, about what you do, about what you want in life.
Women as intelligent as Dahlia are never satisfied with a facade.
She's going to want to be close to you, and know that you feel closer to her than anyone else. She will want to know that she knows you better than anyone, and that you know her.”
“How do I accomplish that?”
“Think about it, William. Use that big brain of yours for something other than business for once. What does Dahlia want that only you can offer her? What parts of yourself are you willing to open to her honestly, even though she very well might reject you once you do?"
As she spoke, William's eyebrows drew together. He pressed his lips tightly. It sounded as if Claire were speaking from experience. It sounded as if she were talking more to herself at the end than to him. Yet the words still applied. It was excellent advice.
Finally, he nodded. "There are things that might raise questions about our family, were they to ever get out."
Claire shook her head and looked toward the ceiling. "More questions than our eldest brother being the biggest lecher this country has seen since King Charles the second? Really, William, unless you are a secret highwayman, I hardly think that anything you have to expose will be all that shocking.”
He frowned.
She continued, “You forget you weren't here when the bill collectors came pounding on the door.
Do you think they were delicate with our feelings?
Do you think they cared that other people heard and saw and spread the word about our family's downfall?
Of course not. They used such tactics on purpose.
They arrived during visiting hours in order to pressure us to pay them the money that we didn't have, because Richard was a rake of the first caliber. "
"He wasn't a rake." William shook his head. "Rakes know a thing or two about romance. Our brother was a drunk and a whoremonger. One does not need to romance a whore. The clink of gold in your pocket is all the wooing they need."
Claire scrunched her nose. "I may be more worldly than our younger sisters, but please refrain from speaking of such things to me. Especially when it sounds like you have some personal experience on the matter."
He rolled his eyes. "Of course I don't—don't be disgusting.
I would have sooner drank the bilge water.
My only point is that you keep calling our eldest brother a rake.
And he wasn't, not by a long stretch of the imagination.
He was a dissolute reprobate who gambled and drank and whored away our father's fortune.”
“You may be right.”
“Of course I am.”
“If only you felt as confident when it comes to Dahlia.”
“If only.” He sighed.
“Hope isn’t gone in that area, William. I disliked Dahlia Warrington ever since she came to society with her perfect looks and her perfect dresses and her perfect luck. Then I caught her in the gardens with my brother, who by all accounts abandoned me for years starting that very night."
"No wonder you hated her.”
"I didn't know the whole story. Now that I do, I'm inclined to like her very much.
" She shook her head. "That's not the reason I brought that up. I only meant to say that I’ve been watching Dahlia closely over the years, waiting for her to trip up, waiting for a ghost of a rumor that I might repeat.
It's not something I'm proud of, but it's true.”
“What is your point?”
“She has never, ever been involved in a scene like she had in the gardens with you. It wasn’t hate when she looked at you then, and it isn't hate now. You simply have to decide how hard you're willing to work to get what you want."
"I love her.”
Claire smiled softly. It was an odd expression for her, and she suddenly looked five years younger, more like the sister he remembered than the one he'd come home to.
"Then show her that. Show her who you truly are."
"Even if it affects your chances of marriage?"
"My chances for marriage are very slim indeed. But they always have been."
"What of your other sisters?"
She huffed a laugh. "I wouldn't worry about them if I were you."
"Pardon?"
"Never mind. The point is, if you tell yourself that you aren't willing to court Dahlia Warrington properly because of your sisters, it's a lie. It's a shield to keep yourself from being hurt. After all, failure doesn't hurt as badly if you were never truly trying in the first place.”
He gave a thoughtful hum. “True.”
“Besides that, Dahlia has already proved that she’s not a gossip. Even if she currently doesn’t like you very much, she likes the rest of us Prestons too much to intentionally harm our reputations."
“You’re right.”
But what could he possibly offer Dahlia?
He didn't think he had much, if anything, to offer her that she couldn't find somewhere else.
Exclusivity was a huge factor in life and in business, and he didn't have it here.
Sure, he was wealthy, handsome enough, clever, witty, willing to court her…
but those were all things that Lord Pearson and a dozen other men possessed.
If he bared all his secrets to her, would that be enough?
"Of course I'm right," Claire snapped. "Now, if you're quite finished with your mooning and brooding, I should like to get back to my journals."
She waved him off. William made a rude noise and hefted himself from her sofa, but he left her bedroom with renewed purpose.