Chapter 11
Eleven
Alaric was the first to climb into the carriage.
It was only the second time they had ridden together, but if the last time was anything to go by, Clara knew what to expect.
That he would shuffle across and sit in the corner, turn his body away, get back to ignoring her as he counted down the minutes until they were home.
There is nobody else to watch us now. So, why would he feel the need to keep up the act as he had done so at the ball? Unless… was it all an act?
“Here…” Once inside the carriage, Alaric turned back and offered his hand to Clara. She looked at it as if she did not know what it was for, surprise as much as hope filling her. “If you will allow me.”
That single gesture might have answered all of her questions, were Clara not painfully aware that they weren’t alone on the drive.
There were other couples leaving the manor.
The staff of Lord and Lady Whitcombe, too.
Still, this might have been all part of the performance.
And because it was, Clara smiled and took the hand as if it were a most natural thing.
His grip was firm and powerful. He guided her into the carriage with ease.
Once she was in, he leaned over her and closed the door, trapping them inside.
Her heart was racing with nerves, for she did not wish to be presumptuous and sit beside him.
But then the duke did something she could not have expected.
He sat down in the middle of the seat and patted the space beside him.
She frowned. “Are you… Are you certain?”
He tilted his head. “Honestly, no, I am not.”
“Me either,” she said honestly, her smile unsure, her actions just as much. But she sat herself right next to her husband, so close that their hips were touching. And then she held her breath, as if to breathe too loudly might scare him away.
The carriage pulled into action, and the next few minutes were filled with an uncomfortable silence. Not uncomfortable because that was how she felt beside Alaric. But uncomfortable because they were both so clearly puzzling through the events of the night.
It had felt real to Clara, no matter what the cause was.
Until tonight, too, she had been unsure what she wanted.
Convinced, she had been, that it was in her best interest to ride this marriage out, pretend the duke did not exist, and then leave when the year was done.
Freedom was there for her; all she had to do was stick to that plan.
Now, things were not so easy. Tonight had changed her.
It had been a window into the man she knew Alaric to truly be.
Not the evil, cold, dispassionate duke that he worked so hard to play at.
There was a kindness to him. There was joy, buried deep inside.
He refused to admit it. He was at pains to hide it.
But he had let it shine tonight, and it had felt so very real.
Still, Clara could feel the shadow of his hand on her waist from when they danced.
It made her body tingle as she pictured it.
Still, she could feel the press of his body.
It made her chest flush warm as she remembered.
And still, she could see that look in his eyes as they danced, how he admired her, how he was no doubt feeling the same as her.
They sat together, but the silence grew so that it strangled.
“Did you enjoy tonight?” she ventured desperately, wanting to return to the same sense of comfort they had shared at the ball.
He grunted. “It was… less unbearable than I had imagined it would be.”
She turned and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Is that all?”
Another smile, still unsure, but it was there. “I enjoyed myself,” he said softly… his hand, ever so carefully finding its way onto her thigh. “More than I thought possible.”
“So did I,” she said. “I didn’t even have to pretend.”
“I did,” he said, which had her leaning back, stomach dropping. “But only at first,” he made sure to follow up. “By the end…” He chuckled under his breath, and his hand on her thigh squeezed gently. “It was a fun evening, Clara. Dare I say that I am glad you were there with me?”
“Who else?” she shrugged and winked.
She looked at him through the darkness of the carriage.
She held his stare. She fixed him with one that she hoped told of how real she was being.
She was through with walking on eggshells around him.
She was done living in a state of isolation and loneliness.
Had tonight not proven that they could work? Why fight it any longer?
I know why… It struck her suddenly. Strange that it had taken this long for the realization to dawn.
She supposed it made enough sense, seeing as the duke was so used to being on his own that he had forgotten how to have fun.
Or rather, he did not wish to. That was why he was this way, she began to realize.
Guilt, it felt like. Possibly even shame.
And it was only when he found himself in the company of another that he allowed himself to relax.
The question was on the tip of her tongue.
She did not wish to ask it, because she knew it might be taken the wrong way. But Clara found in that moment that she had to know. If this marriage was to work, she needed to understand the man to whom she was married.
“Can I ask you something…” She looked away from Alaric, unable to meet his eyes.
“You can,” he said simply.
“Tonight. I know that some of it was pretense, but it did not feel that way. It felt as if…” Her heart was racing. Her body was running so hot she thought she might catch fire. “As if you have done that before.”
“Gone to a ball?”
“No.” She turned and looked at him now, her expression pleading. “How relaxed you were. How much fun you seemed to have. And the way that you danced…” She smiled. “Was it that way from your first marriage?”
The effect was immediate, and she knew she had gone too far.
His hand left her thigh; he snatched it back as if he had been bitten. His body turned rigid, and he even shuffled away slightly. And behind his eyes, where there had been a smile for her, there was now a shadow. A darkness much like that he held when she had first met him.
“Why would you ask me that?” his voice growled.
“I…” She hesitated. “I thought that… I wanted to know.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my husband, Alaric…” She was not scared, nervous rather, for she knew that to say the wrong thing now would see this perfect night crash and shatter before them.
“And I know that this marriage is supposed to be for convenience. I know you say you want nothing to do with me. But tonight…” Her chin was trembling.
“Tonight felt real. And I want to know why.”
“Why what?” he hissed.
“Why are you so scared to admit it?”
Alaric considered her in the darkness. Again, she could see that fight raging behind his dark eyes. She could feel it coming from him like a cold storm that threatened to break. He wants to tell me. I know he does.
“Do not ask questions that you might not like the answer to,” he said. “You know well enough what is said of my first marriage.”
“I don’t believe a word of it.”
He scoffed. “Perhaps you should. Perhaps it would be better if you did. It would save you a lot of time.”
“But –”
“No,” he cut her off. “We are not having this conversation. Not now. Not tomorrow…” He scowled at her in warning. “Not ever. Is that understood?”
She forced herself to match his scowl with her own determined stare. But it was a pitiful thing, like a flower wilting in the heat. He would not be bullied in this. He would not be convinced. And if she pushed too hard, it might be the end of them as she knew it.
“Alright,” she said softly. “I am sorry.” She reached for his hand, but he snatched it away. And then, he turned and faced the window.
That had Clara gasping, a pain stabbing through her chest. She had been so close. Right on the cusp of breaking through his defenses. But a wrong move was made, and she felt that she was right back to where she started.
They rode the rest of the way home in a stony silence.
It was a state that she was all too used to.