Chapter 18 - Claire
True to Michael’s word, he arranged a promenade through the park with Lord Sheldon the following afternoon.
It was as perfectly boring as Claire could have hoped.
The man’s face was as bland as his tan-colored suit, his smile as dim as the muted sunshine struggling through the clouds.
His countenance reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite place what it was.
“Are you quite sure this weather is appropriate for a walk around the park?” Lord Sheldon said, pointing his furrowed brow toward the scattered clouds overhead. “It does look like it might rain.”
A toad, Claire thought, suddenly. That’s what the man reminded her of. With the corners of his rather wide mouth perpetually downturned, he looked like a very dissatisfied amphibian.
“I am willing to take a quarter hour’s worth of chance on the subject,” Claire said kindly, “in order to get to know you better, Lord Sheldon.”
She had worn one of her very favorite day dresses for the occasion, a lavender ensemble that she hoped wouldn’t be wasted.
Lord Sheldon’s smile looked forced, his eyes barely crinkling with the effort. “It’s only that I don’t care for the rain, you see.”
He smoothed his lapels nervously. Claire thought it ironic that his coat was indeed a finely worked tweed.
“We are in view of the front door of my brother’s townhouse; I don’t see that there’s any grave concern.” She said the words lightly, but if anything, his frown only deepened.
“It is a grave concern. That’s the perfect word for it. My third cousin took ill after he had been rained upon, and he never was the same after that.”
Claire blinked, feigning her concern, even while measuring the distance from where they stood to her front door. Not because she was concerned about rain, but because ten minutes into this conversation with Lord Sheldon was already ten minutes too much, in her opinion.
“Did he recover?” she asked politely.
He shook his head forlornly. “Indeed not. He is plagued with the sniffles whenever the weather turns.”
Despite her best efforts, Claire’s eyebrows leapt upon her forehead. “That’s a very common affliction, is it not?”
He frowned again. “Perhaps because it’s exceedingly common for people to underestimate the rain.”
“Ah, well, look.” She pointed at the clouds. “There’s a break. Surely the sun is going to shine through at any moment.”
Lord Sheldon shook his head as if sunshine would be even worse than the rain, but Claire didn’t give him the opportunity to expound on his moroseness regarding the weather.
“I do find such solace in nature, for here one can listen to the birdsong and smell the sweetness of the air and the flowers. Do you enjoy flowers, Lord Sheldon?”
Claire’s smile was holding on by a thread. She felt a tick developing in the corner of her left eye. However, she’d chosen the subject of flowers on purpose, for who could have anything negative to say about those?
Apparently, she’d underestimated the pervasiveness of Lord Sheldon’s gloom.
“They make my nose itch something frightful. I’m allergic to all of them; even being amongst them makes me afraid I will break out into hives.”
“Is that so?”
Claire feared her smile was more of a baring of teeth now.
She’d never met someone who could turn a mildly sunny day into some sort of fight for survival.
If Lord Sheldon was determined to look at the entire world through a rainy windowpane—even when the weather was nice—the best she could do was not join him.
“Please,” he said, “allow me to escort you back to the safety of your brother’s house, for I fear I just saw a speckle of rain upon the path.”
Claire looked to where he gestured, but saw nothing more than the same dry path they’d been walking.
However, as she was keen to conclude their meeting, she nodded.
He offered his elbow gingerly, and she took it with a mere press of her hand, checking that Mara was close behind them to observe every possible rule of propriety.
Lord Sheldon was the last person she’d want to be trapped into marriage with because of a scandal.
They ascended the steps and Claire was dismayed to find she was mistaken—Lord Sheldon hadn’t been offering a happy conclusion to their interlude.
Instead, he followed her back inside and readily accepted her begrudging offer of tea.
For some reason, she led him into a different sitting room than the back parlor she’d been favoring as of late.
She made polite conversation until the tea tray arrived, then steeled herself as she poured. Claire had thought their meeting at an end; it was a keen disappointment to realize she had to hoist this banal conversation upon her shoulders and trek another mile.
“Are you enjoying the Season, Lord Sheldon?” she asked politely.
“It is well enough as far as Seasons go. I confess I much prefer a library to a ballroom, however.”
“Oh?” Claire’s eyebrows raised with a sudden hope—perhaps Lord Sheldon had a keen interest in books—or anything, for that matter—that might make him more interesting. “Do you enjoy reading?”
“Not particularly,” he said, his tone mulish. “I fear I was forced to read so much at school that I lost the taste for it.”
Claire blinked. His answer made her feel quite untethered. Hadn’t he been the one to bring up the library? She sipped her tea in flummoxed silence.
“Mother says I should marry soon,” Lord Sheldon said.
What on earth did one say to that? It took all her self-possession not to gape at him. Or scowl.
Instead, she politely said, “Is that so?”
“She says I should look for a lady who isn’t too young. One who would be appreciative of the estate and my title. Someone who will be thankful to be raised up and included in our family tree.” Lord Sheldon blinked at her expectantly.
Claire wondered what expression she wore—for the life of her, she couldn’t tell.
It felt as if her face had become slightly deadened from his words.
It was a new experience, to be sure. Not only the numb face, but being told that she was being singled out because she would naturally feel grateful for the attention of one such as he.
Claire did the only thing she was capable of at the moment—she gave a tremulous, wincing smile that felt much like a grimace, and a single nod.
Lord Sheldon nodded back as if they’d come to some sort of accord. “Mother will be very excited to meet you. Though we must choose a day when there isn’t any weather. She doesn’t like the rain any more than I do.”
He chuckled to himself as Claire looked balefully out the window to the beautiful day outside.
When Lord Sheldon left, with many promises to return, Claire escaped to her small back parlor, ordered a fresh tea service, and stared out the window at the very pleasant day. The sun had broken through the clouds, and couples were promenading happily through the park.
Based upon their short conversation, Lord Sheldon was obviously well within her grasp.
All Claire had to do was reach out her gloved hand and take him.
Yet he was insufferable. Not to mention he was far too boring, even though that was precisely what she’d requested from Michael.
In fact, she’d asked for a husband as boring as boring could be.
Lord Sheldon exceeded that requirement. The man wasn’t interested in anything that she could tell. She had verbally poked and prodded him for the past half hour and hadn’t discovered any signs of life whatsoever.
Yet he was titled, prudent, wealthy, and had never been called a rake, even jokingly.
According to her list, he was perfect.
Claire frowned as she reconciled herself to at least one more afternoon spent nodding at Lord Sheldon’s forlorn predictions and sad memories. If ever there were a person who could suck the joy from a moment, it was Lord Sheldon.
Yet, because of her list, she would give him another chance.