Chapter 13
The manor house was huge but largely devoid of life.
They had arrived in the late afternoon the previous day, and after a fitful night at the inn, Clara had taken her dinner early in her chamber and gone to sleep.
Now it was morning. Julian, she had been told, had gone out to tend to some business with the vicar.
The moon was still disappearing in the distance behind slivers of clouds. The estate stretched before her, all green and lush with a forest in the distance. The sea was nearby. she’d seen it as they drove in, but she could not see it now.
From the cradle, David cried, and she quickly picked him up. The second she did, two things happened. The crying ceased, and the smell of his nappy’s contents filled the air. She ruffled her nose and shook her head. “We can’t have that, can we?”
She swiftly set about changing him, and he laughed at her as she did.
“You laugh like your dear mama,” she said.
“Arabella has a laugh that is like a bell on a sunny, clear day. I hope one day you get to hear it.” She examined the baby after she was done and noticed the hint of cheek dimples.
“Julian has dimples when he laughs,” she said the words quietly before realizing.
When exactly had she realized that he had chin dimples? And why did that even matter?
She shook her head. She’d been in his proximity too long, clearly.
It was well known that Julian was a charming man.
Some might even say he approached the territory of a rake.
Yet, at the same time, he had always been well respected in the Lords.
He was one of the youngest peers of the realm, and yet he commanded attention when he spoke.
She thought back to a few years ago when she and Arabella had watched one of his speeches.
It had been on a topic most boring. Something related to wheat taxation. In fact, she’d dreaded going and had attended only because Arabella promised ices from McGunnery’s afterwards, and a girl never said no to ices from McGunnery’s.
However, once she’d listened to his speech—which he had opened with a joke—for a mere two minutes, she’d been enraptured.
He had captivated the audience with such ease that there was no denying his charisma.
She wasn’t sure if he had succeeded with his point, but in any case, he had convinced her he was a true parliamentarian.
He exuded grace and confidence.
At least on the outside.
She had seen him vulnerable before but never as much as these last few days, never as much as when he spoke of Arabella and the guilt her disappearance had instilled in him. She understood. She felt the same.
Had she not wallowed in her misery in Scotland so long, she might have noticed something was amiss with her friend.
But she had wallowed, and she had missed it.
And now, here they were.
David whimpered again, and she raised him up.
You must be hungry, little worm.
She held him close to her chest and walked out into the hall toward the chamber at the end where Mrs. Holt and her little daughter were installed.
The woman opened the door, already dressed.
“My Lady,” she said with a smile and extended her hands, “here is the little duke.”
“Indeed. He slept well. He woke twice in the night but went back to sleep after I walked him.”
The woman nodded. Her hair was in a bun at the back of her head, but a brown curl had escaped. She looked young in the morning light, younger than Clara had thought at first.
She was perhaps two-and-twenty or perhaps a little more. Her eyes were bright green and lovely.
“Thank you for taking care of him.”
She smiled. “I have more than enough, and there is nothing wrong with sharing. Besides, I am grateful for the work. It’s just me and the little one.”
She paused. “What about your husband?”
A shadow fell over the woman’s face. “The baby’s father is gone.”
The way she said it made it clear at once. There was no father at all. Well, there was in the sense that it took two to create a child, but she suspected the man had not been her husband.
“I see.”
She wanted to ask her more—where did the man go? Was he married? Had she been taken advantage of? But she did not.
“I am grateful,” Mrs. Holt repeated.
Just as Clara was about to turn and leave, she felt the woman’s hand on her arm. “I know His Grace’s cousin, by the way.”
“You do?”
She nodded. “Yes, a lovely young girl she is. And she spoke so highly of you.”
“Where do you know her from?” she asked at once, but the other woman just shrugged.
“It was some time ago. I do not know her well, but I am glad to be able to be of service to her family, for she showed me a great kindness once.”
Something in the way she said it gave Clara pause. A kindness? What kind of kindness? She wanted to ask more, but the woman had already stepped back and was closing the door.
Somewhere outside, a rooster crowed, and she took a deep breath.
It was time to get ready for her wedding.