Chapter 14 #2
“You are very enthused for someone who has never met the woman you are so keen to marry me to,” William said dryly. “I assume it is six of one or half-dozen of the other to you whether she is a respectable woman or a shrieking demon?”
Silas laughed. “Of course not. I am getting ahead of myself. Naturally, you must marry whomever you choose.”
William nodded, but there was something to what Silas said. A match with Lady Cassandra could be the difference between freedom and the gallows for him. And of course, it would benefit the dukedom as well. And that was what William wanted.
The conversation turned to other avenues—Silas had a great deal to say to his captive audience of one—and Clara’s name came up more than once as he recounted the mundanity of his time at the lodge. Each time, William felt that same sting of jealousy. He resolutely pushed it aside.
Clara herself emerged after an hour, a few tendrils of her blonde hair escaping from her white cap as she approached. The loose blonde locks framed her face, pink with exertion, drawing William’s eyes as the breeze blew one across her cheek, and she pushed it aside.
She was beautiful. And capable. William’s knowledge of her past was limited, but what he did know gave him every reason to believe she had experienced her fair share of adversity.
Despite that, she had not lost the kindness in her face.
She simply exuded a sort of quiet strength that made William feel calmer.
A nudge in his ribs brought his head around to Silas.
“What?” William asked in annoyance, rubbing the spot.
“Clara asked if we need anything else,” Silas said, looking at him with amusement.
“I am finished with my duties here for the day,” Clara said. “I will return to the main house—unless there is anything you wish for me to do.”
William shook his head. “I should return as well. Before Edmund sends out a search party,” he added, feeling his brother’s eyes on him.
“I shall fetch your horse,” Clara said.
“There is no need,” William replied. “I can manage.” He was not entirely incompetent, after all.
Not yet, at least. If Edmund had his way, William would soon be good for nothing more than making speeches and important connections.
Not that William blamed him. Edmund was doing what he had been employed to do: equipping the Duke of Rockwood with the things that would add to his consequence.
Silas walked with them as far as the lodge, then reluctantly went inside, but not without a dire warning that he was likely to transform into a mouse sooner or later if he was condemned to spend the majority of his time alone with the creatures.
William retrieved his mare, who was happily munching on the feed Clara had provided, then led her to the front of the lodge.
Clara was tinkering with one of the cart wheels. She dusted off her hands and took hold of the handles as she noticed William and his horse approaching.
She hesitated. “You may go ahead, Your Grace. I shall wait a few minutes.”
He brought Comet to a halt. “There is no need for that. We can walk the first part of the path together. My path diverges from yours well before we reach the house.”
She watched Comet for a moment. “I think your horse dislikes my cart, Your Grace.”
“I think she does,” William said with a smile. “She is regarding it as though it may charge her at any moment. If you are not afraid, you would be doing both of us a service if you walked with us. She could use the practice.”
“I am not afraid and would be happy to assist in any way I can. Will you ride?”
“Not until we part ways,” he said. “I would rather offer Comet experience with your cart while I am not on her back.”
“A wise choice,” Clara said with a smile he found enchanting.
They fell into step together, the mare on William’s outside, her footsteps skittish and her head high. Her ears twitched and her eyes darted toward the cart mistrustingly, but they kept a slow and steady pace.
After they had walked a matter of thirty yards, Clara slowed. “May I try something with the mare, Your Grace?”
A flash of protectiveness over the horse coursed through him, but he nodded, and they both stopped.
The mare’s head was high, and her eyes wide as Clara stepped away from the cart and put out a hand for the reins.
William reluctantly offered them to her, and it wasn’t until she laid a hand on the mare’s neck and his heart jumped that he realized the protectiveness had not been over Comet but Clara.
She stroked the mare’s neck and spoke softly to her, and William watched as the horse’s head slowly lowered, her eyes grew less wide, and her muscles more relaxed.
After two minutes of such treatment, Clara stepped away, letting the reins go slack. And then she waited.
William kept still, his gaze flicking between the mare and the maid.
Just when he was about to ask Clara what her hope was, Comet stretched her neck toward the cart.
She was still too far away to smell it, though.
Gingerly, she took one step forward, her nose extended. She took another, then drew back.
All the while, Clara waited, allowing her both time and rein.
Little by little, the horse approached the cart, finally drawing near enough to smell it. Clara spoke soothingly to her as she explored it, and William watched with admiration.
Clara stroked Comet’s neck and commended her, and William stepped gently toward the horse to add his own praise.
Clara smiled, scratching a place behind Comet’s ears. “When they are forced into something new, they often resist. When allowed to make the choice on their own terms, however, they can embrace the novelty more willingly.”
William’s gaze remained fixed on Clara, appreciation filling him. “You are at your ease with them.”
“My father was an ostler, so I was raised around them.”
“Is that how you met your husband?” William asked. “He and your father worked together?”
Her expression grew more guarded, but she shook her head. “That was mere happenstance. My father died years before I knew John.”
Hearing her speak her husband’s name sent a strange sensation through him.
He missed hearing his own name—and an incomprehensible part of him wished to hear her say it.
But discussing her husband was undoubtedly a good thing.
William could use another reminder, evidently, that the maid beside him was not to be regarded through the eyes of his heart, no matter what it whispered to him.