Chapter Twenty #2
“I believe he has returned to England, but . . .” Her voice trailed off, and her gaze settled on Rufus for a long moment.
He said nothing. Finally, she turned her attention to Clem.
“Your mother called to see me earlier. She advised me to expect an announcement of a felicitous nature in the papers tomorrow. Your father also wishes to announce the joyful news at our fundraising ball. An announcement of the very best kind.”
For a moment, Clem thought she was referring to Will, until she realized Lavinia and Rufus were locked in some unspoken communication.
Lavinia blinked and broke from his gaze, turning back to Clem. “My congratulations to both of you. I hope you will be very happy.”
Clem nodded and folded her hands in her lap. For the life of her, she couldn’t put two words together. It was left to Rufus to thank Lavinia for her good wishes. Clem’s mind spun around a single fact.
Will has returned to England, but he hasn’t come to ask me . . .
Her heart shriveled until it was no more than an empty husk. She accepted a cup of tea, which she held without sipping a drop.
Small talk followed, but Clem struggled to follow the conversation, and shortly after, when Rufus stood to take their leave, she followed, keen to escape and sort through the mess of emotions whirling inside her.
As they passed the silver salver where calling cards were displayed, she glanced down.
There, poking out from beneath hers was a familiar card, plain by the standards of the ton, but its businesslike script suited the owner.
Mr. Wm. Ravenshoe.
That one simple truth repeated over and over in her mind. Will was in London and hadn’t called on her.
Around her, the summer afternoon was bright and golden, and the trees along the street rustled in a gentle breeze. But Clem was miserable beyond belief. She held Rufus’s arm as they climbed into his carriage. They left the house, and her carefully nurtured dreams of a life with Will, in the dust.
Sprawling in an armchair by Lavinia’s fireplace, Will brooded long into the night. His arm ached, and his heart ached worse than he’d ever thought possible.
“Clem and Rufus?” Will shook his head. Linking the names of the woman he loved and his best friend in the context of matrimony was like being caught in a hideous maze.
Lavinia tipped her embroidery towards the firelight and studied the stitches she had set. “I must confess I never thought I’d see this day. I was sure Clementine was waiting for you.”
“I’ve been gone more than twenty months, Lavinia. Plenty of time for her to forget me and move on.”
“Do you think her inconstant in her love?”
He poured more brandy into his glass and held it in front of the firelight.
It glowed with warmth Will suspected wouldn’t be enough to thaw his frozen heart.
“Twenty months with scarce a word from me. I tried to write to her. Countless times I tried, but what could I say that would reassure her? I was in the heart of enemy territory. If a letter had been intercepted, my cover could have been blown, or worse, I might have put Clem in danger.”
“How would a few words from you endanger Clem?”
“Do you think England was the only country spying on its enemies? Boney’s spies were active in London. They probably still are, but he won’t escape again, no matter how much his supporters might wish it. One return from exile is more than enough.”
How he hated the little emperor for keeping him from Clem.
“But, my dear cousin, Clem didn’t get married in the twenty months you were gone. That must tell you something?”
“What? That my timing stinks?”
“I find it odd that suddenly, the day you arrive back in London, her mother visits me to share the good news.”
“Clem couldn’t even wait for me to come back from hell before she took up with—” He drank his brandy and set the glass down with a bang. “My best friend. They were sitting together on our bench by the lake.”
Lavinia looked up from her embroidery. “I kept waiting for them to tell me it was a jest. Clementine looked shocked when I offered my congratulations. I’m not at all certain her parents had told her, but I was surprised by Marsden’s reaction.
For a man about to embark on his nuptials, he seemed—grim.
Perhaps grimly determined is a more apt description. ”
“Grim? Why would he be when he’s marrying the sweetest woman in all of London? I’ll give him grim when I—”
“Oh, thank goodness! I thought you’d given up on Clementine.” Lavinia set her embroidery aside and leaned forward. “There is something not quite right about this situation. I think you need to talk to Rufus, and the sooner the better.”
“If I talk to Rufus, I’ll punctuate my remarks with a right hook. Why would you think I would ever want to speak to him again?”
“Because you love Clementine, and I am as sure as I can be that the marriage her parents envisage for their daughter is not the marriage Clementine—nor Marsden for that matter—wishes for herself.”
Lavinia’s words should have reassured him, but he had heard their conversation. He had glimpsed Clem through a narrow slit in the door. Her beloved face, even in profile, was as beautiful as ever. He should have been seated beside her, in the place occupied by Rufus.
Was there any hope for him and Clem, or had her affections been transferred to his best friend?
Former best friend, he thought savagely. A man gives his all for his country and loses everything.
Vacillating between wanting to see Clem and needing to keep his distance now that he knew she was engaged, he tossed back the rest of his glass of brandy and then rose to refill it.
As the level in the bottle sank, his thoughts turned to his friend. Perhaps he would visit Rufus. If nothing else, at least he’d have the satisfaction of feeling his fist land on that damned smirking face.