Chapter Twenty-Three
London
Clem gripped the pages of the week-old newspaper that carried the announcement of her engagement to Rufus, glaring at the black and white item as though it were an accusation.
She closed the paper and dropped it beside her with a sigh.
There was nothing else she could have done to prevent its publication.
According to her parents, the end of the war removed her only objection to marriage. They had been patient and more forbearing than most parents would have been, and she had been more fortunate than most young women to have been allowed such choice and the time in which to make it, but—
She sighed. If only Will’s boat had departed on time. If only the weather had been fair the day he left France. Fate had been unkind to them.
No, not Fate.
Talking with Rufus over the past months had given her a new perspective and understanding of how life worked. Life wasn’t fair or equal, and it certainly wasn’t controlled by women of any rank in society.
Nor did the fault lie with the ship’s captain or the weather.
Blame lay squarely on the heads of a government whose policies had allowed Bonaparte to escape in the first place.
A short huff of laughter escaped Clem. Truly, she was beginning to sound like Rufus with her political opinions.
He shared them freely with her now and she prayed Will would want to discuss such topics with her when they were married.
What would Will think of a wife who expressed herself in such a way?
The fact remained; if their government had had the foresight to send Bonaparte to St. Helena in the first place and not treat him as though he still had a right to rule Elba like a principality, she and Will might have been married already instead of caught in this charade with Rufus.
But with the promise of hope in sight, Clem spared a thought for their friend.
For twenty long months, he had been her protector, fending off unwanted suitors and doing who knew what in the background until Will returned, but what of his own life? Had Rufus met anyone he wished to marry during that time but couldn’t?
Because of her.
Guilt landed squarely on Clem’s shoulders and weighed down her heart.
She was deliriously happy now Will was home and, despite the mess her life was in, she wanted to help Rufus find the same joy.
Thinking about the many young women with whom she was acquainted, she lost herself in wondering if one of them might suit her friend.
Mama entered the parlor in a flurry of silk skirts and lavender, pulling on a glove as she walked.
“I am off to speak with the minister about setting the wedding date and our preferred Order of Service. There is much to be done with the joining of two noble families. The creation of such unions is special. Are you sure you don’t wish to come? ”
Clem could feel her forehead tighten and consciously smoothed it as she turned and smiled at Mama. “I’d prefer to wait if you don’t mind, Mama. Rufus said he is going to call.”
For a moment, brief enough that Clem wondered if she’d imagined it, sadness darkened her mother’s eyes.
It struck Clem how fleeting the time they had together was before she left her parents’ home forever, and how much she would miss her mother.
“I promise we can spend time together tomorrow. Mama, I am going to miss you so much when—when I—”
Mama hurried over, and Clem stood, stepping into her mother’s embrace. “And I, you, daughter,” she said, holding tighter and longer than usual. Then, with an uncharacteristic sniff, Mama released her and became busy with the contents of her reticule.
“I shall see you at dinner, Mama.”
“Convey my greetings to Lord Marsden.” Having taken nothing out of her reticule, Mama pulled the strings tight and glided from the room, elegant and gallant as she threw herself into wedding preparations.
Shortly thereafter, Rufus was announced. He came alone, which in the past had offered them privacy she appreciated as Clem tried to winkle information out of him. Now, she was unable to stop her gaze from darting past his shoulder, seeking Will in his company.
“He’s been called to the War Office. I’m sorry. You’ll have to make do with me today.”
Hating herself for making Rufus feel less than welcome, Clem rose and crossed the room to set a hand on his arm. “Forgive me.”
“Don’t worry about it, Clem. You have a lot of time to make up together. So, what would you like to do today? I know Will told you how important it is to continue with our charade. Do you have wedding preparations I can help with?”
She shook her head and led the way to the sofa, allowing herself to drop onto it rather than gracefully sitting as she usually would. “Mama is seeking solace in such work. Today, she is visiting the minister and planning the service.”
“I thought I would find you eager to have plans in place for when you and Will are able to wed.” As at ease in her company as she was in his, he seated himself, crossed one long leg over the other and set an arm along the back of the sofa.
“Our plan merely requires a simple substitution of the bridegroom.”
“It’s not simple. Surely you know a wedding between two aristocratic families is quite different to a wedding in which the lady will be considered as marrying beneath her.”
Rufus’s gaze sharpened. “I know that is not how you see it. In truth, I believe you are concerned about preparations going ahead for the wrong wedding while we are trying to disengage.”
“‘Disengage’? What an interesting way to describe taking apart our engagement. But no. I know that will be a challenge, but it has only just struck me that my marriage will mean the end of the close relationship I have with my mother. I have been so focused on Will’s return, I hadn’t thought about how our marriage will change my life. ”
“There will be many changes, but you will be with Will, and it will be an exciting new chapter of your life. I am happy for you both.”
Tipping a sideways gaze at him, Clem searched for a sign he wished the same for himself. “What about you, Rufus? We touched on the subject earlier this year, but is there someone you wish to be with?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw that she’d only seen appear in moments when they were speaking of marriage.
“I have a duty to my title to marry and sire an heir, but honestly, Clem, how can I do so when I am incapable of loving a woman as she deserves?”
Clem sat quietly, thinking carefully before she answered.
“Mama gave me good advice, which I wish to share with you. I had always thought she and Papa were in love when they married because they are so deeply in love today, but she said they began with friendship and respect, and a commitment to make a life together. Surely you will find a woman with whom you can form a friendship, who can converse intelligently with you.”
“You have described our relationship, Clem, but intelligent and lovely as you are, I do not wish to marry you. I never considered the possibility.” His smile was self-mocking, but she refused to allow him to wallow.
“That is because you know Will and I are in love, and you have never imagined being married to me.”
“Actually, I have imagined it.”
“You have?” Her worst fears from January crashed back over her. When had his feelings for her changed? How had she been so blind? “I never knew. Rufus, I’m so sorry. Really, I—”
His hand rose, and her rush of an apology stopped abruptly. “I imagined it because I had to. Just last week, when your father put me on notice before Will returned.” A shadow passed through his gaze, and Clem thought back to the rest of their conversation in the More Chapel earlier that year.
“Are you concerned about how your war experiences still affect you?”
“I would not inflict my problems on any woman.” He covered her hand and met her gaze. “I know you will be kind and patient with Will if he sometimes struggles with his return to normal life, but you are special, Clem. You love him, and you are a strong woman.”
“I am not unique, Rufus.”
His smile was small and tight, but he allowed her hand and the subject to drop. “On that topic, we will agree to disagree. Going back to my earlier enquiry, what do you wish to do now? Ice cream at Gunther’s, a drive in the park?”
“Both?” Clem peeked up at him and fluttered her eyelashes, the picture of a demure young woman, which, as she’d hoped, drew a laugh from Rufus.
“Minx.” He tapped her nose and stood. “Call for your things and let’s be on our way then.”