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Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he had pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommended him still more.

—Pride and Prejudice

CLARA LISTENED AS her charge played the pianoforte.

Her first ball as a chaperone of Georgiana had not gone as planned.

She wasn’t entirely sure what had possessed her to suggest dancing with the colonel, but she shouldn’t have done it.

Other men had subsequently asked her, and she’d denied them all, including Lord Matlock, who had then stayed by her side and conversed for an entire set.

It had been unnerving how much Lord Matlock knew about her. He spoke surprisingly a lot about her late husband, her own father, and her family’s situation.

At least Mr. Darcy hadn’t stayed the whole night to scrutinize her actions. Her past few weeks at Pemberley with Georgiana and Mr. Darcy had transpired smoothly, but being in town for the Season was entirely more demanding.

And as if all that wasn’t enough, her dance with Colonel Fitzwilliam kept circling through her mind as well. She’d thought about him more than she liked to admit. He had been nearly as awkward as their first meeting, but strangely, in some ways he was just as easy to talk with.

Nothing with gentlemen had ever been easy in her life.

“Wasn’t last night just perfect?” Georgiana said, stopping mid-sonata to declare it.

Clara put down her embroidery and nodded. “Indeed.” A vague enough answer. At least the girl had enjoyed herself. Hoping that the thrill of dancing had caused her charge to overlook her chaperone’s actions, Clara turned more fully toward her friend. “Did . . . you have a favorite partner?”

Clara could see Georgiana’s eyes alight from over the top of her instrument. She chewed on her lip, tucking back a smile before answering. “There were certainly some excellent gentlemen there.”

A guarded answer. That was all right—Georgiana never told all she felt right away.

She resumed playing, and Clara reviewed the men who’d asked Georgiana for a dance yesterday.

It was more than clear the earl had no interest in his cousin.

Mr. Spalding had been next, and although rich, everything about him from his hair to his manners was disheveled, and she knew Mr. Darcy would never accept him as a suitor.

Lord Edling, titled and kind, could do nicely, but seemed the shiest of the group.

She’d watched him approach Georgiana and wasn’t even sure he’d actually have the gumption to finish the set.

Perhaps her last partner, Mr. Goster. He was prominent in the community and well-respected.

Yes, she’d have to watch for their attachment.

But she also prayed any courtship with Georgiana would take some time.

She and Georgiana had become friends last Season, spending afternoons together at a few events.

When Georgiana had written to her a few months ago and suggested she come stay with her, Clara had been surprised.

Of course, Georgiana had known about Mrs. Darcy’s being with child and the future need of a chaperone.

It really was wise of the girl to set up her own situation.

Clara did long for a friend, and one as genuine as Georgiana was hard to come by.

It had also helped that Georgiana’s invitation provided a great advantage to Clara, so she’d accepted readily.

Living with Georgiana allowed her to rent her London townhome and collect on her estate in Cheriton, near Dover, all while receiving a wage from Mr. Darcy.

Which reminded her, she needed to write to her solicitor.

Georgiana had settled into a nice long Mozart concerto, so Clara moved to the writing desk. She had just finished folding and addressing the envelope to Mr. Stockton when the butler knocked at the door.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam here to see you, Miss Darcy.”

“Oh, do let him in!” Georgiana said, rising from the piano. Her esteem was clear for her cousin. After their few meetings, Clara wasn’t so sure exactly what she felt about him.

Within a moment, he stood in the doorway. The sight of his straight nose and wide smile again arrested her, just like it had done on that first day, and Clara rose clasping her hands tightly behind her, Georgiana at her side.

“Hello, ladies.” He smiled. He really was quite handsome, objectively. It must be due to his easy manners. “So good to see you so soon.”

“And you, too!” Georgiana gushed. “Please sit down, and I’ll call for some tea.”

“Ah, tea. Ironic that you would offer.” One brow lifted and a mischievous grin stole across his face.

It didn’t seem ironic in the least to Clara.

Calling for tea was exactly what a lady did when anyone visited, and Georgiana was an accomplished host. By now, the colonel had come into the room but wasn’t seated yet, and it took a moment before she noticed how strangely he moved.

He kept his back to the wall constantly, shuffling sideways almost like a crab along a beach, skirting about the perimeter.

“Cousin, do sit!” Georgiana said with a giggle and an emphatic hand gesture to the overstuffed settee upholstered in a green satin brocade.

But the man kept sidestepping, and Clara didn’t know whether to laugh or declare him mad as she took her seat.

He’d made it safely around the pianoforte and was now near to approaching the writing desk.

She hadn’t tucked away the letter, but she’d make sure to collect it and post it as soon as their visitor left.

She saw him eye the table and then skirt around it, too.

“Whatever are you hiding?” Georgiana said, finally noticing the way he held his arms behind him. He was now in front of the paned window that overlooked the gardens.

“Nothing!” His arms flew out wide, and he smiled, stepping boldly into the center of the room.

With gusto, he came to the seat closest to him, which also happened to be closest to Clara, and flipped the ends of his jacket out of the way and plopped onto the couch, sticking his feet out in front and crossing them at the ankles.

He laced his hands squarely behind his head before Georgiana gasped and scurried to the window.

“What is that?”

He didn’t even look over his shoulder but instead grinned and glanced directly at Clara. Upon catching her eye, he lifted his brows once, and she found herself intrigued as well.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous. Mrs. Hughes, look at this!” Georgiana cradled the porcelain teapot in her hands and walked reverently toward her companion. “Cousin, tell me how this came to be yours.” A hand traced the dark, glazed exterior. “Look at the detail!”

Kraak porcelain covered the black enamel, a gold-lined scene of two ladies in classic Asian dress walking outside in what looked to be a garden.

“It comes from the East Indies. They sent me home quickly after my accident, but I made sure I at least had a little something for my favorite cousin and ward.”

“But I thought Darcy was your fav—”

“Don’t be silly, Georgiana.” He rubbed his hands together. “You eclipsed him long ago.”

She laughed and set it on the table between them. “Truly, Mrs. Hughes, have you seen anything like it in your life?”

Clara leaned forward and examined it. Back at her manor house, her entire breakfast room was covered in Kraak porcelain.

Or at least at one point it had been covered.

Now, she’d sold all the iconic pieces before leaving.

In truth, she’d sold most of the overabundant and opulent furniture unless it was absolutely necessary.

Adorning rooms like their breakfast parlor had been but one of the many ways her husband had liked to flaunt his travels while ignoring the strain it caused on his pocketbook.

“It’s incredible,” Clara said, trying for the awe and luster her charge had in her voice. Like so many things, she would admire it objectively, not because of any actual feeling from herself. Feeling had no place in her survival.

From the corner of her eye, she could feel the colonel analyzing her, and it made her self-conscious. She purposely finished with a smile in his direction.

“I’ll take it to the kitchen straightway and return with tea,” Georgiana said as she reclaimed it from the table. “I’ll be just a moment.”

The colonel nodded, and Clara glanced at him. She was a widow. It wasn’t improper for her to be alone with a man. She wasn’t a young woman being courted. So, why did she feel so vulnerable at present?

As soon as Georgiana exited, the colonel turned toward her. His long, stretched-out legs almost touched the hem of her gown. It reminded her of their time next to the river those weeks ago. “Mrs. Hughes, you aren’t as impressed with my gift as my young cousin is.”

“It is lovely! She’s in raptures. You’ve done very well.”

The butler entered with a tray of strawberry tarts. Clara thanked him and immediately picked one up. The colonel followed suit but kept his gaze on her.

“Aren’t these delightful?” she asked.

The colonel tilted his head. “I’ve truly never eaten its equal. Their cook, Mrs. Augustin, has always been a wizard with pastries. It’s no wonder she’s been here since Darcy’s father.” He lifted his brows. “But I feel like you are trying to change the subject.”

He suddenly wasn’t the playful or bashful horseman who’d thrown up on her. It seemed he was trying to get at something. If only she had some kind of fodder to return in his direction.

“In truth, Colonel, I’ll admit that it seems you are good at reading people’s faces. But I am not completely unaware either. You took great issue with your brother yesterday. Why is that?”

For a moment, his eyes went round and black as the teapot that had just left the room. But then he schooled his features and laughed.