Chapter 3
Clara exited the ballroom, desperately in need of some air. Between the unpleasant captain and the unexpected return of Julian, the evening had been rather more eventful than she’d expected.
She spotted Mrs. Wainscott hovering by the refreshment table as she was about to partake in some cake, and she took her chance.
She shook her head and stepped out of the ballroom and made her way down the hall toward the front door. There, she dipped into an alcove, fanning herself with a white feathered fan. It wasn’t truly hot, but she needed something for her hands to do.
“Are you quite all right?” Evelyn Sinclair, the Duchess of Sinclair, said.
Nathaniel’s wife was not exactly a friend of hers, but they got along reasonably well.
Of the Langley sisters, Clara was closer to Helena and Frances.
Clara and Evelyn cared for one another the way you care for someone in the same circle as you.
“I am. Just an unpleasant encounter with someone who presumed to know who I am based on my history.”
“Do you speak of Julian? I saw you dancing together. I’ll ring a right peel over his head if he was unkind to you,” she said in a tone that left no doubt that she meant every word.
Clara shook her head. “No, the gentleman I was dancing with before that.”
“I see. How did Julian come to be involved?”
“He involved himself. He fancies himself my savior, but I let him know I did not need such assistance.”
Evelyn grinned. “Sometimes it is helpful to leave these gentlemen to think that they are indeed rescuing us, even if they are not. Most of the time, it is we who are rescuing them. But it is good for their egos to think they are the hero from time to time.”
“Indeed,” she said. “Julian, however, did not need anyone to pay him Spanish coin, at least where is ego was concerned.”
“Perhaps that is true,” she replied with a laugh. “Did you hear the commotion out front?”
Clara looked up and blinked. “What commotion?”
“Someone brought a baby. It was crying something awful. Some hapless servant, looking for the mother. Why they do not have a decent governess at home I do not understand. I would never leave my children with somebody who was not equipped to take care of them.”
A child. Clara hadn’t heard any such commotion. Who would bring a child to a ball? It was entirely unconscionable.
“I wonder if the mother has been found.”
“I do not know,” Evelyn said, “but I do hope so. Well, I did not mean to disturb your peace. I shall return to the ballroom. I just wanted to see that you were quite all right. You rushed off in a bit of a haste.”
“I am, thank you,” she said. The two squeezed hands, and then Evelyn left. Clara took a deep breath and stepped out of the alcove, readying herself to find her chaperone to tell her that she was not feeling well and wished to go home.
However, she had barely made it back into the hallway when a pair of hurried footsteps came her way. She turned and saw a young man in livery rushing down the hall, followed by one of the servants.
“I told you, you cannot—” the servant said, somewhat out of breath, for he seemed to have followed the other man for quite some time.
“Are you Lady Clara Hampshire?” the harried-looking man said. She nodded, her eyes fixed on the bundle in his arms. It was a baby. The very baby Evelyn had spoken about, and it was indeed crying.
“Good. I have come for you. This is yours.” He thrust the baby into her arms before she could so much as react.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “My baby? I have no—”
The man leaned forward. “This baby is in terrible danger. Lady Arabella Ashland has sent me to place her into your trusted care. You must protect this baby. You must.”
“Arabella?” Her head spun at the sound of the name. Why would Arabella send a baby to her? It simply didn’t make any sense.
Before she could say another thing to the man, he was dashing down the hallway again, the servant looking at her then at the man before deciding to follow him.
Clara stood there with a baby in her arms and her eyes wide.
She looked down and noted that the baby had stopped crying.
It was a tiny thing, perhaps only three months old, with round, red cheeks and bright blue eyes that were—were they like Arabella’s eyes?
Was this Arabella’s child? Or was this merely her mind trying to make sense of things that made no sense whatsoever?
It couldn’t be. Arabella was in Italy. The two had not seen one another for nearly a year.
Clara had departed for Scotland after Benjamin had so cruelly rejected her at his family’s behest. Arabella had visited her in the first month she had been there, but then she had left to travel in Italy with a dashing gentleman who was moon eyed over her and who wished to introduce her to his family there.
Now that the war was over, such privilege was once again available for those who could afford it, and Arabella could, thanks to Julian.
She looked up, searching for him. He would know what this was all about. Surely, he would know how this child was connected to Arabella. He was her cousin which meant it was likely he would know exactly who this child was and where it belonged.
She had no chance to think on the matter further because around her, people were beginning to stare. Whispers arose.
“Is that Lady Clara Hampshire? Is that her baby? Why would she bring her baby to a ball? That seems most—”
“Is that why she was in Scotland all this time?”
“It would be just about the right amount of time,” another voice said. “Who is the father? Do you suppose it was that baronet who left her? That is quite the scandal.”
“It’s out of wedlock, surely.”
Clara could not believe her ears. This had to be wrong. There had to be a mistake. She had to set this right, announce this was not her child. Not her doing. But… the servant had said the baby was in danger, and she could not let a little baby such as this fall into the wrong hands. But then again…
Goodness gracious. They all think that this baby is mine. My reputation will be utterly ruined. My mother will simply be at sixes and sevens. They will never let me leave the house again.
She cradled the baby closer to herself, unsure what to do, when suddenly a strong arm wrapped around her and pulled her to the left. She looked up and saw it was Julian. Again.
“Come with me,” he said quickly and quietly.
The two of them walked into a side room, and he shut the door. The last thing Clara saw was several faces belonging to nosy guests who had followed them. He shut the door quickly and turned to her.
“A man handed me the child and said it was in danger. This man said that the baby belongs to Arabella. Do you know anything of this?”
“No,” he said, “but I have just heard the same. I saw the man hand you the baby and then run away, so I dashed after him. I trapped him in a corner as he was leaving and forced him to tell me what he knew. The child is indeed Arabella’s, according to him.
She seems to have run away and gone into hiding. ”
“Into hiding? I do not understand. I thought she was in Italy. This baby—she does not have a baby. She would have told me. She did not have a baby.”
“She did,” he said. “She did have a baby. Oh, Clara, there is so much you do not know. Has she told you anything about a courtship?”
“A courtship? Yes, there was this man she met who wanted to take her to Italy to meet his family. She was going there with your other cousin as a chaperone. She has been writing to me with tales from Italy for some time now. Although I haven’t heard anything since… a month or so ago.”
“Yes,” Julian replied. “That is the one. Although he was not a count. His uncle was. And she did not go with our cousin. She went on her own and without my permission. She left me a message, saying she would return after their grand tour, and she might be married by then. She was full of wit and vigor when she wrote me that letter.” He shook his head. “So reckless, always so reckless.”
Clara nodded. That was her friend. Arabella’s parents had died when she was only four years old, and she’d been brought up by Julian’s parents. They’d coddled her and given her everything she wanted which had turned her into a bit of a hot head who did whatever she pleased.
“I heard from her since then, but her letters were sparse and devoid of such glee. I imagined her courtship had soured, and she didn’t want to tell me.”
Clara’s jaw dropped. “The letters she wrote me sounded similarly devoid of all her usual vigor and sharp, keen observations. They were dull. I assumed it was because she was with the gentleman she adored so much and that she did not have time to write properly. I thought she only wrote as an obligation because she knew I was unwell. Or worse, that she was somewhat embarrassed of me.”
“Embarrassed of you?” he said. “Why would she have been?”
“Because of my situation.”
He shook his head. “No, do not say such things. What happened to you was not your fault. It could have happened to any great lady.”
“Not twice over,” she said.
He shook his head. The baby in her arms stirred but did not start crying again.
“It does not matter. What of Arabella? Why do you think that this baby is hers? Do you have any indication other than what this man told you?”
“Yes,” he said. “A month ago, she returned to London with the child. It was quite sudden. I had gone to give a speech at parliament, and when I returned, she was there in the drawing room with the child. She told me that she and the gentleman had fought and that he would not let her leave Italy after she discovered she was with child. He monitored her correspondence to ensure she did not attempt to run away. When the child was born, she fled and returned to England.”
“What?” Clara said. “She was held prisoner? Is that what you are saying?”
“It seems so.”
“Who was this man? He must be the one who is a danger to her and the child.”
He sighed. “She didn’t tell me. I tried to convince her to tell me more, but she did not.
She stayed with me for two nights. I told her that I would ensure she was safe.
All she needed to do was tell me the man’s name, and I would ensure that he would not harm her again.
However, two days later, she was gone again.
“She left me a letter to let me know that she had relieved me of a substantial amount from my purse and a few items around the house. She said that she was going to take the baby somewhere safe and that she would contact me once it was safe to do so. I have not seen her since.”
“Goodness gracious,” Clara said. “So, the fact that the baby is here?”
“It must mean that it was no longer safe wherever she had taken him. We must take care of the baby. We must protect him.”
Him. The baby was a boy.
“How do we do that?”
“There is only one way,” he said. “I do wish that he had not handed the baby into your care in front of all these people the way that he did.”
“Yes,” she said. “Everybody will think that the baby is mine.”
He took a deep breath. “Which could actually work to our advantage. Do you trust me?”
Truthfully, she wasn’t quite sure if she trusted him or not.
She scarcely even knew him anymore. To think they had danced earlier, and he hadn’t even once mentioned that her best friend was missing!
However, right now, in this moment, they were the only two people on earth who knew whose child this was, and whatever else she thought of him, she knew that he loved Arabella.
Arabella had always spoken so highly of him, of the man who was like a brother to her, the man she trusted with everything. Or the man she had trusted with everything, except for this one thing she hadn’t trusted Clara with either.
“I suppose I do,” she said.
“Good,” he replied. He placed one arm around her and walked her back toward the door. They opened it, and by then a large number of people had congregated there. He took a deep breath and looked as composed as ever though she could sense the effort beneath it.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I see that we already have a great deal of attention. I would like to apologize to Lady Sandringham for having monopolized her splendid ball in such a manner, but as we all know, good help is hard to come by, and it seems that our night nurse has disappeared and a servant has brought our child here rather than send word.”
“Our child,” somebody whispered.
Clara caught Helena’s eye from somewhere in the back, and Helena looked at her as though she had gone to sleep and awoken in an entirely different world.
“This was not the way I had planned to announce the joyful news, but Lady Clara and I are married, and this is our son, the future Duke of Lynden.”