Chapter 22 #2
The duke looked at Clara, his expression pleading with her to have an acceptable answer to this question.
Clara took a step forward. “Yes, Mrs. Ashby. They are just inside.”
“Cherry tarts?” Mr. Frederick repeated. “As in more than one?”
“Yes, sir,” Clara said with a smile. “Enough for the four of you.” Her gaze shifted briefly to the duke, who feigned disappointment.
“Capital.” Mr. Frederick moved toward the lodge, but his aunt stopped him with a hand.
“Not so fast,” she said. “I can eat four cherry tarts without your help, thank you very much. Though, if filling your mouth will stop you from talking anymore, I will gladly spare one.”
“That should do the trick.” Mr. Frederick shared a conspiratorial look with his brothers.
The duke led the way inside, and Clara followed at the back of the group. Their trunks awaited them in the entry hall, and Clara was obliged to explain which bedchambers were for which guests, while the Yorkes instructed the footmen which trunks and valises belonged to whom.
Within a few minutes, the hall had been cleared of belongings, and the footmen left, the door thudding closed behind them.
“Now for those tarts,” said Mrs. Ashby.
“Ah, yes.” Clara hurried to the entry table where she had set the basket. She stared at the empty tabletop in confusion. “They were here,” she said, disbelief and embarrassment swirling in her chest. “I swear they were.”
“So they were.”
Everyone in the room turned toward the new voice.
Mr. Silas Yorke stood in the doorway to the sitting room, a nonchalant smile on his face and the basket of tarts hanging over his arm. He took a bite of a cherry tart, shutting his eyes and vocalizing to show his satisfaction with it as a few crumbs spilled down his front.
Utter silence permeated the entry hall, but Clara and the duke’s eyes met in mutual relief.
“Silas?” Mr. Anthony said in disbelief.
Mr. Silas’s smile widened, but it wavered slightly with emotion.
Mr. Anthony took three large strides over to him and wrapped his brother in his arms, burrowing his face in his brother’s shoulder.
Clara blinked quickly to dispel the stinging in her eyes. A glance at the duke showed him doing the same.
When the brothers emerged from the embrace, both their cheeks were wet.
“How?” Mr. Anthony asked, wiping the tears impatiently and looking to the duke. “Did you know?”
The duke nodded. “He has been here at Rushlake.”
“For how long?” Mr. Anthony asked, a hint of betrayal in his voice and a frown on his brow.
His wife took his arm and leaned toward him. “Let us enjoy our reunion first, Anthony. Will you not introduce me?”
Clara had the distinct impression she was intruding on a moment that was not hers to share, and she quietly turned around and slipped into the morning room. The room was already tidy, but she tidied it again, hoping to give the Yorkes time.
Within ten minutes, however, the door opened, and the duke led the way into the room. Mr. Anthony’s displeasure had dissipated, and the four brothers were smiling, while Mrs. Yorke and Mrs. Ashby walked in arm in arm.
“I will leave,” Clara said in an undertone to the duke.
“Not just yet.” He turned to his family as they took their seats.
“I would like everyone to meet the person who has made Silas’s safety possible.
This is Clara. She is one of the upper housemaids at Rushlake and has been making twice-daily journeys to the lodge to ensure Silas’s enormous appetite and his need for exercise are both satisfied. ”
Clara curtsied, her cheeks warm.
“In short,” Mr. Silas added, “she has saved my life and His Eminence the duke’s sanity. I consider her a friend, and so should you.”
One by one, the Yorkes and Mrs. Ashby rose from their seats to offer her their gratitude.
Clara’s cheeks were aflame and her throat thick by the end.
She had expected to find the duke’s family too refined to take notice of her.
Instead, they clasped her hand and treated her with respect and their sincere thanks.
“It has been my pleasure,” Clara assured them. “Just as it will be my pleasure to fulfill any tasks you might have for me before I leave you to enjoy one another’s company.”
Two or three of them reassured her simultaneously that they required nothing.
Clara smiled. “Then I will leave you in peace.”
“I need a quick word,” the duke said softly. “I will walk you to the door.”
Clara nodded, though she was not oblivious to the curious glance Mrs. Ashby and Mrs. Yorke exchanged. It was not a normal occurrence for a duke to speak directly to a housemaid, much less to walk her to the door.
The duke waited to speak until he had closed the door behind them. “What time did you arrange to meet John in the village?”
“Your Grace,” she pleaded as they made their way to the front door, “you cannot abandon your guests.”
“What time, Clara?”
She hesitated, then stopped in front of the door. “Eleven o’clock. I wanted to ensure I would not be obliged to leave any of my duties.”
He nodded. “Good. It should be easy enough for me to slip away at that time.”
She wrung her hands. “This is not your affair, Your Grace. I can manage.”
“And how will you do that?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Attempt to reason with him?” It sounded pathetic even to her. Reason played such a small part in John’s life.
“I am sorry, Clara, but I insist. I will speak with John myself.”
She was too relieved to fight him on the subject, though she hadn’t any idea how he intended to manage everything.
“One more thing.” His eyes searched hers. “I want to be certain I am not acting against your wishes. If there is any part of you that wants to mend things with John…”
She shook her head adamantly. “No.”
The look of relief on his face was tangible. “Very well. I will find a way to tell you the result of the conversation.”
Their gazes held for a moment, as though neither of them wished to part ways just yet.
He turned away, and Clara reached for his hand.
Stopping, he looked down at their hands. His fingers suddenly tightened around hers, and she returned their pressure.
A nearby sound startled them, and their hands dropped. But the door to the sitting room remained closed. The duke faced her, and it took a moment for her to remember why she had stopped him.
“Please take care, Your Grace,” she begged. “John believes he is being followed by the men he owes his debt. He seems to think they will harm him if they find him. If something were to happen to you…” She swallowed with effort, unable to finish.
“Nothing will happen to me,” he assured her. “I promise.”
She nodded, and they parted ways.
But Clara would not rest easy until she knew the duke had returned safely.