Chapter 23 #2
John did not answer immediately, looking at him warily, then around the room.
“Outside,” William said.
“I am meeting someone here.”
“I know. I am that person. Clara is not coming.”
John’s brows knit, but he took a last sip of his drink and rose to his feet.
William had him lead the way, not trusting him out of his sight.
The man behind the bar noticed John making his way toward the exit and began to demand payment.
“He will return to pay in a few minutes,” William assured him.
The man’s mouth opened and his eyes widened as he recognized William. William gave a subtle shake of his head to signify he did not wish for a scene to be made by his presence.
The man closed his mouth, nodded, and let them exit in peace.
John’s eyes darted around the village, and William remembered what Clara had said about the men supposedly coming after him.
“We are at a crossroads, John,” William said.
John’s expression morphed to one of confusion, and he looked at the ground around their feet.
“Not a literal one,” William explained, trying for patience. “I cannot permit you to threaten my employees.”
His brows drew together. “She’s my wife, Your Highness.”
“Perhaps she is, but you abdicated your responsibility over her, and if you continue to pester her for money and make threats against her, I will have no choice but to take legal action against you.”
“But—”
“Or,” William said, interrupting his blubbering. “Or we can come to an arrangement.”
John looked at him through narrowed, bloodshot eyes. “What sort of arrangement?”
“Clara tells me you are in heavy debt.”
“Aye, sir. And they’re after me.” He shot a look at the surrounding area, as though he had just remembered the threat he was living under.
William studied him for a moment, feeling a mixture of pity and disgust. In no universe did John Quinn deserve the woman he had married. But marry her he had, and even if she could not be free of him legally, Clara deserved to be free of his threats and life of dissolution.
“Here is what I will offer,” William said.
“I will give you enough to pay a quarter of your debt. You can give the bank notes to these men you speak of. Tell them that, provided they can wait, I am good for the remainder of the debt if”—he put up a hand to silence John’s thanks—“you can put away the drink and leave aside the gambling.”
John went quiet, processing this part of William’s offer. It was certainly enough to give him pause. Such was the hold his vices had upon him.
“You will find a position and lead an honorable life,” William continued.
“And you will leave Clara alone. On no account will you contact her. If she wishes to contact you, that will be for her to decide.” The mere thought made him sick, and he sincerely hoped she would not wish for such a thing at any point.
John nodded, frowning more deeply than ever. “’Tis very gracious of you, Your Lordship.”
William said nothing to this. He was not doing this for John. He was doing it for Clara. She deserved to sleep without a guilty conscience and without the fear of John making further threats to finance his addictions.
“You agree to my terms, then?”
John nodded again.
“And you understand that the remainder of your debt will be paid only if you comply? It will not be easy.”
“Aye. I understand.”
William searched his face for another few seconds, then reached into his coat and pulled out a sheaf of bills.
“These are for your debt only, John,” William said. “Not to be used in search of more money at the gambling table.”
“Aye, sir.”
William handed them to him, and John took them with a bit of wonder in his eyes.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
William smiled reluctantly. For once, John had managed to address him correctly. His amusement faded quickly, however. “Be wise. There are far better things ahead if you choose to pursue them.”
Clara was the exception to that, of course. John would never find anyone or anything better than the woman he was leaving behind. He had not appreciated her. It was likely he simply hadn’t the capacity to do so.
John finished counting the notes, then looked up. “What of Clara?”
William’s lips pressed together. “She is no longer your concern.”
He gave an uneasy laugh. “Right. No doubt ’tis for the best. Don’t think I’m a marryin’ man after all.”
“If only you had realized that before,” William muttered through clenched teeth.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Good night. And do not forget the terms of our agreement.” He returned to his horse, who was doing her best to nip at the scant bits of grass the horses who had come before hadn’t managed to consume.
William let her take the road back to Rushlake at a gentle pace, his own mind full.
He sincerely hoped that, as far as Clara was concerned, that was the end of John.
He cared for her happiness deeply. But part of him wondered whether there was a selfish element to his offer to John.
Perhaps he was so eager to rid himself of the man because he disliked the reminder that the woman who held his heart was married.
“Your Grace?”
William blinked out of his abstraction and pulled up on the reins. He had not even noticed he had reached Rushlake’s grounds—or that Clara was standing in the shadows near the stables.
He slipped down from his horse. “Clara, what are you doing? It is late.” It had to be nigh on midnight.
“I could not sleep until I saw you.”
“Is something amiss?”
“No,” she hurried to reassure him. “I was merely worried.” She let out a little breath and smiled. “But you are safe.”
“I promised you I would be, did I not?”
She nodded, and the overwhelming desire to take her in his arms filled him. Her duties required her to be up before the sun, and yet here she was, sacrificing precious sleep to ensure he had returned.
William had lived his entire life in the role of the eldest Yorke child, responsible for the Yorke name and the well-being of his brothers. Having someone care for his well-being as Clara did…it was strange. It meant more to him than he could say.
“Did you find him?” Clara asked.
He nodded. “We spoke, and I made it clear that he is not to seek you out under any circumstances.”
Her brows pursed. “And he agreed?”
Was she hurt? Or surprised?
“He did,” William said. “There were a few conditions.”
“What sort of conditions?”
“He is to put aside the drinking and gambling and to find a respectable position. In exchange, I gave him enough money to satisfy his creditors temporarily. If he can stay on the path we agreed upon, I will help him pay off the remaining debt.”
There was a moment’s pause, then Clara dropped her chin and covered her face with her hands.
Alarmed, William took a step toward her. “Clara?” He put a hand on her arm, but her head only shook back and forth over and over, so he let go, the pit of his stomach weighed down by an anvil-like weight. He had hoped she would be relieved.
Finally, she let her hands fall, her lashes and cheeks wet.
“Have I done wrong?” he asked.
“No,” she said, her voice unstable.
“Then what is it? Please. Tell me.”
She met his gaze, and he waited until she could speak.
“All my life,” she said, “I have had to rely upon my own ingenuity to manage the difficulties I have faced. I have made poor decisions at times—stealing that watch to take revenge, marrying John out of desperation. I have been at my wit’s end trying to find a way to satisfy his demand for money without disappointing myself.
But then you…” She swallowed, her shimmering eyes fixing on his.
“It has been so long since I have felt looked after. Until I met you.”
He smiled ruefully. “Do you know I had precisely the same thought as I was riding here? My world feels so much less lonely and my burdens so much lighter with you in it.”
“And yet you take on my burdens in addition to your own.”
“And you mine. Somehow, two shared burdens weigh far less than a single burden one carries alone.”
Clara nodded, her eyes searching his. “Lady Cassandra is a fortunate woman, Your Grace. She will be a credit to Rushlake.”
William tried for a smile, but it emerged as more of a grimace. “And yet…”
And yet, if someone had given him the chance just now, he would be tempted to give up the dukedom for a chance to call Clara his.
She offered a sympathetic but shaky smile. “You have worked so tirelessly. I could never forgive myself for standing in the way of your success or the interests of your family. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for what you did tonight. Sleep well.”
And then she disappeared into the shadows.