Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
“Good day, Clara,” Gerald said, nodding in greeting to the fair, lovely, beautiful… oh, there were so many superlatives and none of them seemed to do her justice, although he kept these words silent in the hope of choking the life out of them.
He was unsuccessful, however. He stared at her big eyes and long lashes, the rosy cheeks and individual strands of hair that were drawn together, joining to make a beautiful whole.
He studied her chin and the way her neck swept down to her collarbone, a smooth, pale surface like a distant snow-capped mountain.
This was supposed to be an illusion, a trick designed to distract the people of the ton so attention could be thrust upon Eleanor. He was doing all of this for his sister, not for himself, and yet it seemed to be he who was winning, although what a poor winner he was.
For the only trophies he had were two near-kisses and a blood-stained handkerchief.
“How is your thumb today?” he asked.
“Much better, thank you,” Clara said.
They were standing in the ballroom again, where the flowers were being arranged.
This spacious, vast room suddenly seemed cramped.
Gerald adjusted his collar and shifted his weight between his feet.
He couldn’t help but notice how closely he and Clara were standing, yet surely moving would only draw attention to it?
He wrestled with himself until so much time had passed that any decision he made seemed like the wrong one.
He had to keep better control of himself, he thought. Two times now he had allowed himself to fall into the allure of her beauty, to reach out for something that had clearly been denied to him.
The rules… he must think of the rules, else she would likely think him a cad. Flouting her wishes like this. It was beneath him. It was utterly scurrilous, and he was not going to lose sight of all the values he held dear for her. No, not he.
And yet she was there, in front of her, her slender arms waiting to wrap around him, her waist waiting to twist, her back waiting to arch, those lips that were softer than dew-covered petals waiting to…
Gerald clenched his fist tightly, immediately, pressing his fingers deep into his palm, hoping that the discomfort would be enough to distract him. If not, the next step would be to snatch up a handful of rose stems and hope the thorns would do the job.
“Will you be staying to help arrange the flowers?” Clara asked.
“I…” he paused, unsure if she wished him to stay or if this was an invitation for him to leave. Everything was so complicated with her. Even the simplest questions were wrapped in an enigma that he simply didn’t have the wherewithal to solve.
Before he could offer a reply, Eleanor burst into the room and offered her customary affectionate embrace to Clara.
“Is Agatha not with you today? I was so looking forward to hearing more of her stories.”
“She intends to stop by later. She enjoyed your company as well. I daresay you have made a firm friend in my Grandmother.”
“I am glad. She has such charming stories,” Eleanor said.
Perhaps if you have heard them only once.
“That is a lovely thing to say about my grandmother,” Clara said.
“I should begin arranging the flowers. Gerald, if you would like to be of help then perhaps you could start clipping the stems, and try to make sure that you get rid of all the thorns as well. It wouldn’t do for any of our guests to inadvertently get their clothes caught on one. ”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Gerald murmured. Clara turned her back.
They moved to opposite ends of the table.
He glanced up, watching her tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
It kept falling loose, teasing him, goading him to march around the table and take care of it himself, but then he would be placed in that impossible position again where he was gazing into her melting eyes and feeling as though he was falling into a chasm without end.
He snipped the stems sharply, letting the unwanted ends fall to the table in a chaotic pattern. Eleanor gathered them up carefully, using a letter opener rather than her fingers to bring them closer to her. She then scooped them in a box that the servants had left for such a purpose.
“Look at all these thorns. It seems impossible that something possessing such beauty could also wound so harshly.”
“Beautiful things can often be dangerous,” Gerald said without thinking.
“And what inspires you to say that?” Eleanor asked. Gerald’s gaze flicked up and he realized he had misspoken. His cheeks flushed, and he cleared his throat.
“I’m not entirely sure. It’s just an old adage, I suppose.”
“Really? You mean to tell me there is nothing in this room that is beautiful and dangerous? Not one single thing… or one single person?” Eleanor imbued these last words with a deeper knowledge, one that made Gerald’s skin crawl.
“I’m not sure what you’re implying, Eleanor, but I don’t appreciate the tone of your voice. It’s improper for a younger sister to tease her older brother like that.”
“I’m not sure it is, Gerald. I think that you simply don’t like it.”
Gerald pressed his lips together and snipped off another stem. It was quite thick, and he had to use more force than usual, but there was something satisfying about that.
“Then we must agree to disagree. If you are going to offer such unhelpful comments, then perhaps it is better for you to leave. I’m sure I can place those stems into a box,” he said.
Eleanor leaned into him and lowered her voice. There was a playful, smoky look in her eyes, one that he hadn’t seen before. It was as though she was becoming more of a woman with every passing day.
“Is that because you want to be alone with Clara?”
The question had such an effect on Gerald that he dropped the clippers. They clattered to the table, and he snatched them up, wishing he could pretend that nothing had happened.
“Not at all,” he hissed, glaring at Eleanor, who just looked pleased with herself. “I fear your imagination has been fueled by Agatha’s stories. You shouldn’t take too many of them to heart. She’s probably imagined most of them.”
Eleanor wore a look on her face that suggested she took the words personally.
“That’s not true,” she said indignantly. Gerald decided not to press the matter, although Eleanor wasn’t finished.
“I don’t know why you are acting as though it’s anything to be ashamed of. It’s quite wonderful. I never thought I would see the day.”
“What day? What are you on about?”
“The day when you fell in love, of course. You have been looking at Clara all this time, Gerald. In fact, you’ve rarely been looking at me. I’ve been rather worried that you might chop one of your fingers off.”
“Nonsense. I haven’t been looking at her at all.”
Eleanor chuckled and shook her head. “There’s no need to be so self-conscious about it. As I said, it’s delightful. I just hope that you do not ignore me for the rest of the season. I would hate to be neglected by my own brother, even if you think you have just cause.”
Gerald glared at her. Deep down he knew that her conclusions were correct. Perhaps not about love, but certainly about being distracted by Clara. He glanced down at the tool and noticed how close it was to his skin. He moved his fingers down the stem slightly, away from danger.
“Which season are you planning for the wedding? I always thought there was something romantic about getting married in the winter, especially if there’s snow, although of course we can’t guarantee such a thing. Does Clara have any preference? Perhaps I shall ask her.”
“You shall do no such thing,” Gerald said with such ferocity that Eleanor looked quite disturbed.
The smile fell from her face and it became clear that this was no longer a playful matter.
It never had been for Gerald. Intensity flared in his eyes.
Eleanor withdrew, and her shoulders became rounded.
“I don’t see why you should be so mean, brother.”
“Because I would like it to be a surprise,” Gerald lied adeptly.
What he truly wanted to say was that there would be no proposal because this was nothing but trickery. However, then he would have to go on and tell Eleanor that he had only done this for her benefit and she would likely find that patronizing.
“I see,” the feline smile returned to Eleanor’s face again. “How sly of you brother. I wasn’t sure you were capable of such a thing. Well, I’m sure marriage isn’t far from Clara’s mind, so you should ask her before the hour gets too late. The flame will only burn for so long, of course,” she said.
Gerald inclined his head, as though he agreed with her.
In reality, he was simply glad that they could stop speaking about the matter, and that he could focus on clipping the stems. Now that Eleanor pointed it out, he tried to be more conscious of how often he looked at Clara.
It was still more frequent than was socially acceptable, but as long as nobody noticed he didn’t think it would do any harm.
As for the effects on himself, well, it offered a moment of relief, soothing some deep anguish in his soul that he failed to notice until Clara had entered his life.
It wasn’t as though she caused it, more that she allowed it to become visible, and now he could not ignore it.
It was most troublesome indeed. The other thing that did not escape his attention was that Eleanor mentioned the proposal as well.
Gerald had already had to placate Alfred with a hint that one would be forthcoming.
At some point the house of cards they were building would all come falling down.
No doubt his reputation would take a hit, especially from Alfred, who would never forgive him for wasting his daughter’s precious time.
Would Lionel Mercer waltz in and pick up where Gerald left off? Surely he would not delay in making a proposal. If it wasn’t for Gerald, the man would probably have offered one already. Gerald had seen the eagerness in his eyes.