Page 27 of For the Love of Clover (Breaking the Rules of the Beau Monde #4)

CHAPTER 27

P hoebe’s husband, Mr. Tobias Corbel, made a showing on the seventh day of Clover’s visit. He was a handsome brute of a man with sun-kissed walnut-brown hair. Not as tall as Hugo, but every bit as strong from what she could surmise under his jacket and waistcoat. He was a landowner who raised barley and wheat and, according to Phoebe, loved the physical aspect of farming and cultivating. It certainly showed. He was also a creative sort, perfecting a method for brewing fine ale.

“Mr. Corbel, perhaps on another visit, I might see your crops.”

“They are nothing special, Lady Clover.”

“Tobias, you know that isn’t true,” Phoebe said, seated on the sofa in the family drawing room. He stood next to a fogged window attesting to the cooler temperatures outside. “You talk my ear silly with words like malt, mash, and resin acid.”

“Acids in resin, my dear. It’s science, really,” he said to Clover. “Just something I’m playing with.”

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s a mastermind at brewing ale.”

“I believe I am surrounded by scientists. My husband’s valet, Mr. Gale, concocts the most interesting perfumes.”

“I should like to meet him,” Mr. Corbel said. “The chemistry used to extract and create oils would be similar. It’s all reaction, oxidation, and fermentation.”

Clover blinked rapidly behind her spectacles. The tips of her eyelashes brushed the glass. “That’s quite a lot to take in. I shall never beat Mr. Darrington here if I am digesting chemistry.” Hugo’s father had joined her for a game of chess every day since her first visit to his cottage. He had shown her a few plays, which she promptly forgot in favor of the ongoing visits with her new family. And he never teased her when she opted to wear her eyeglasses so she could see the game better.

“I believe the only one who can beat Philip is Hugo,” Mrs. Darrington said from her wingback chair set before a cozy fire.

It was a room overflowing with energy, something Clover could not ever remember having. She was thankful for her brother, but this house had so many people in it that one’s heart was always full. Miss Grace and Miss Emma, seated at a table of draughts, were quiet for a change. Emma had explained she wished to practice table games for her first Season. Clover understood her excitement. She had shared those early days with her closest friends, Adeline and Evelyn. They were carefree and full of hope, something she had been missing for a while.

“Lady Clover has bested me once, I dare say,” Mr. Darrington said, moving a pawn.

“Because you allowed it,” Clover added with a smile. The knights were her favorite pieces and ones she was reluctant to lose. She placed one knight a jump from her queen, protecting the one piece that possessed the freedom to move across the entire board. Mr. Darrington set a rook to overtake her exactly as she’d hoped. She would lose the knight, but her queen would triumph in three moves. And the wily older man who sat smiling across the table knew it, too.

“Nicely played, my dear,” Mr. Darrington said. Whether he intended her to win, she couldn’t know, but his company and conversation were the real game. She had risked a certain amount of trust when she visited him the first time and came out the winner. Risk was a game she understood too well. She had married into it, and in every encounter with Hugo, she felt the weight of it.

“Mrs. Darrington?”

Both Clover and Hugo’s mother looked up simultaneously to find Mr. Gale standing in the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Forgive me, Lady Clover,” he clarified. “There’s someone to see you.”

“I don’t need an introduction,” the deep, resonating voice called out just before Hugo made a showing. “I’m not a visitor.”

Hugo’s valet winked at Clover and then left the family to welcome Hugo home.

Clover was stunned into silence, her heart galloping like horses at the clang of the dinner bell. She had not expected Hugo to come at all. She and Evelyn had planned to return in another two weeks before the brutal weather set in.

“Hugo!” Phoebe called. “What a wonderful surprise.”

“You are a sight,” his mother greeted him.

“Don’t touch me, I came in on a horse.” He bent to kiss his mother’s cheek, then looked up and caught Clover’s eye. His gaze swept over her intensely before he let his attention sway. “Corbel.” Hugo nodded to his brother-in-law. “Girls,” he said to his sisters, bowing formally. Then, his gaze shifted to his father, who stood next to the chess table. “I see you’ve met my Clover.”

“Indeed. She’s currently walloping me at this deuced game.”

“That’s impressive unless she’s distracting you with her delightful conversation .” He looked at Clover, his handsome eyebrow cocked just so and a knowing smile on his face.

“They say only you can beat him,” Clover said in a raspy voice. She cleared her throat as Hugo walked toward the chess table.

“You have him, my dear, and he already knows it.” With his hands clasped behind his back, Hugo studied the board for all of two seconds.

From a distance, she thought his eye was dirty from the ride in, but on closer inspection, it looked slightly bruised. She was shocked. Who had bested Hugo? “I see you’ve lost a game of your own?”

His hand went to the tip of his cheekbone under his left eye. “Let me clean up, and we’ll talk.”

The ominous words made her queasy. Either Hugo’s presence or the fact someone had bested him put her nerves on edge. She couldn’t tell whether he was happy to see her or not. But if she were being honest with herself, she wasn’t sure if she was happy about his intrusion on her visit, which was just silly because these precious people were his family and not hers. Not by blood, anyhow.

“Did you put Clover in my room?” he asked his mother.

Phoebe answered instead, “I did.”

“Perfect,” he said, looking softly at Clover.

As Hugo turned to leave, Clover glanced at Mr. Darrington. “I think I should resign and help him.”

“No need to resign. Hugo’s right, you’ve won this one.” He laid his king down. “Never forget who you are,” Mr. Darrington said as he took Clover’s hand and laid the queen in her palm. He rolled her fingers closed, and it reminded her of how Hugo had taught her to throw a punch, which was apropos considering she had been fighting for her happiness since the day they married.

“I shall play to the draw if I must.” She kissed his cheek. Mr. Darrington had seen through her trip. Two days prior, he had asked Clover if she loved Hugo. She had smiled then and declared her tender regard, but she could not say the words. More importantly, she was afraid to say them. There were still too many questions, and loving him if he didn’t feel the same might destroy her.

Hugo couldn’t wait to get out of his clothes and into a bath. He met his valet on the way up the stairs and sent him to heat the water, then smiled when he saw his room. It looked more lived in than he’d ever seen it just by her being there. He tossed his cloak on the bed, his jacket over a chair, and was unbuttoning his waistcoat when he heard the doorknob turn. It was too soon for it to be Gerard with the water.

His heart turned over like a key in a lock, the click almost audible in his imagination when Clover opened the door. Her gaze fell upon his disheveled garments as she swung the door closed. She hurried to the bed and snatched up his cloak. “You’re going to ruin the counterpane.”

“I’m just anxious to get out of these clothes.”

With his cloak over her arm, she turned to him. “I… I didn’t expect you to come.”

“Disappointed?” he asked as he unbound the cravat from his neck. When she didn’t answer, he raised both eyebrows. He took a step forward and kissed her cheek. “Perhaps you’ll change your mind after I bathe.” He gave her a shining smile.

She shook her head. “I’m not disappointed, Hugo. I’m simply stunned. I’m not sure I’m capable of disappointment anymore.”

“Understandable.” The words squeezed his guilt-ridden soul, but he had to believe they still had a chance for a real marriage.

“Is it? It shouldn’t be.” She took his neckcloth from his hands. “I feel like it shouldn’t be, don’t you?”

“I never said I was disappointed.” He took a cleansing breath.

“I thought you had business to attend to which was much too important to delay for the trip.”

“Your meddling brother can take care of it. I wanted to see you.”

His desire to see her felt strange. New almost. To travel all that way on horseback, even stopping to change horses, was grueling.

“Did you ride the whole way? You could have borrowed Kingsley’s coach. I’m sure he would have lent it to you.”

He chuckled at the irony after his conversation with the duke. “Not with the chance of rain. Too many obstacles to hold back a vehicle. But horses can maneuver around displaced trees or mud holes. It was the fastest way to get here. If it worries you, then I’ll say Rochester joined me.”

“Rochester? That would make me feel so much better if he had.”

“Then yes, he did.”

“Hugo. I’m serious.”

“And so am I.” He gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. He’d missed kissing her. “I’ve taken you by surprise. While I freshen up, you can process the data.”

She scrunched her brow.

“You know, tally the columns of pros and cons.” He made slash marks in the air. “Reasons I’m glad he’s here. Reasons I wish he’d jump in an ice-cold lake.”

A chuckle escaped her, and she turned away, hiding herself with the excuse of putting his clothes in a neat pile. “You could make the latter a pro if you included a bar of soap.”

“That bad?”

She turned, leaning her lovely bum against the back of the settee. “No. You smell like leather and horses with a hint of cinnamon.”

“That’s my boots.” He sat on the bed to remove them. “I missed my little mouse. My wood sprite,” he said with a grunt as he pulled the first boot free. “I think I may be jealous of my father, you know.”

“How so?”

“Because”—he made a straining sound as he removed the other boot—“he was playing chess with you.”

“Is it chess? Or chess that worries you?” She held his gaze for a suspended moment.

He waggled his eyebrows. “ Chess .” He was joking, of course, but he wanted her to know he’d been thinking about her, that he’d missed all their chess games.

She looked up through her lashes, a smirk on her face.

He chuckled good-naturedly. “Too soon to ask, but I don’t promise I won’t grab you every chance I get or pull you into an empty closet and kiss you senseless. And believe me, I am privy to the location of all the empty closets.”

She pulled her mouth to the side. “I might like that.” She pushed away from the settee and walked to the bed where he sat, his heart on fire in his chest. “Suppose you tell me about this.” She placed her fingers, the softest thing he’d felt in a week, against his cheek.

He wanted to turn into her palm and kiss her. “If I tell you, will you feel sorry enough to kiss me?”

“Before your bath?” she teased.

“I’ll take whatever I can get. I am a starving man.”

She giggled, brushing her thumb over the bruise under his eye. She stood between his legs examining the minor injury, and he planned to enjoy every stealing moment of it.

He squeezed his legs around her hips playfully. “At least kiss my eye.”

She took his face between her hands, and as his heart beat a staccato when he thought she would kiss his mouth, she tilted his head and pressed her lips to his nose.

“You’re trying to kill me. I know it.”

She pulled back. “Honestly, I don’t know what I want, Hugo.” The words weren’t said to harm, but she was serious, this he could tell. He let her go, regretting it the moment she rested her hands on his legs as she took a step back. “Are you going to explain the eye? Who bested you?”

“No one bested me. I assure you.” He stood, then pulled his shirt over his head on his way to the privacy screen. He flipped the shirt over the top rail. The soiled sleeves had taken the brunt of it, leaving all the covered parts under his waistcoat white. The woodland scene painted on each panel of the screen made the white muslin almost glow, further emphasizing the mud-spattered cuffs. He washed his hands in the basin, calling over his shoulder. “Are you certain you want to know the story about my eye?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice closer than he expected.

Drying his hands, he poked his head around the screen. He wasn’t ready for the sight of her sitting on the edge of the bed facing him. Before she could hide it, her gaze fell to his naked torso. Inside, he smiled. Outside, he pretended not to notice. He washed his face and then came from behind the screen. “Would you like me to put a shirt on while I wait for my water?”

She looked at his chest. “No. It doesn’t bother me.”

But it did affect her. A nice check on the pro side. He reached for her hand and rolled the fingers into a fist. Bending near her, he extended her arm and rested the flat of her knuckles at the corner of his eye. “That’s about right.”

“What is?” Her brow furrowed, and he breathed her in. “Did a woman hit you? Finally?” She bit into a smile for that cheeky response.

He cupped her jaw. “No, my sweet. Just your brother.”

“Kingsley? Hit you? Whatever for?”

“First, he invited me to play billiards.” He kissed her forehead. “Then he picked a fight.” He kissed her cheek. “And then he insulted my choice of wife.”

“Your choice? I hope you mean me.” She looked confused. “Or not.” Her gaze darted toward the ceiling and back again. “Why would he insult me?”

“Not you. Just me. The idiot accused our marriage of being a business transaction.”

She looked up at him. “It was.”

“It damn well was not.” He wanted to growl the words but held back.

“What are you saying? And why on earth did he cuff you? And who won?”

“You wound me, darling.”

“Oh, Hugo, how badly did you hurt him?”

“Not nearly as bad as he hurt me.” He sat next to her. “Emotionally speaking, of course, because I laid him out in the ring an hour after I threw the first cuff in his house.

“You brawled at home and then took it public? Has our life not been public enough?”

“According to your brother, I would say no, it has not. I believe that was his intent.”

“To beat you with an audience present?”

“With a bloody crowd, more like. I even heard hollering from the balconies overhead. And, by the by, there was never any question who would come out the victor. But the best part of all was the anger I’d been storing burst out of me. It left me invigorated.”

“That’s why you came here?”

He nodded. “Partly, yes. But don’t you see, Clover? I wanted to see you. You. Not my family. Not anyone else. Just you.”

“Should I be flattered?” She shook her head as if to clear it. “You have the strangest way of fixing things. First, you wager on my virtue—that it should remain intact—which, by the way, you lost through marriage alone.”

“Gladly. Besides, I beat all the fellows who wagered to take it.”

“And then you pummel my brother as some kind of psychological experiment. No one else would question whether you’d beat him in the ring, but did Kingsley know you would?”

“What do you think, love?”

“I think you’re all mad.”

He licked his lips, with his head turned to see her beside him. He wanted to throw her into the pillows and ravish her right there. “I agree he may have gone beyond the pale to prove a point, but the public display and his incessant chirping, which brought the crowd, proved our marriage was my choice and not?—”

“What it really was? An arrangement?”

“Yes.” He took her hand and forced her to hold his gaze. “He did it for you and me. And the circumstance may have been ill-planned, but Clover, do you really think we didn’t have a choice?”

She searched his face for the truth he was trying to tell her without saying it outright. Not that he didn’t wish to. He didn’t think she was ready to hear it and believe it. Lord, he’d just come upon it himself.

“Your name in the community would have taken a beating, so no, I don’t think you had a choice.”

“I see. You think my good name was more important than a lifetime commitment?”

“As a gentleman, yes. Are you going to try to tell me now that you were secretly in love with me? Because I wouldn’t believe it if you did say it. So, don’t. I’m not so fragile, Hugo. I never have been.”

“No, you haven’t,” he agreed. He lifted her chin and kissed her lips, willing her to accept at least that much. Her response was tentative at first, and then she threw her arms around his neck and pressed into the kiss, feeding his already burning passion. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against him. He kissed her jaw, nibbled her neck, dragging sweet memories with his mouth to her ear. “I missed you so much it hurt,” he whispered, feeling the words shake out of him.

“I didn’t know how much I missed you until you were standing there in that doorway.” She pulled back. “We at least have this much, don’t we?”

His mouth slid into a half grin. “I love you, you little mouse.” Before he could say another word, she placed a finger against his lips.

She swallowed hard. “I can’t hear that right now. You’re eager because of the adrenaline boost from a fight over me.”

“Clover.”

“Please. I cannot. It’s not real, Hugo. I missed you when I didn’t think I would, and that’s enough. And the fact that you missed me too is enough. Let it be enough for now. The past several weeks have been so confusing.”

He brushed her cheek, his fingers sliding to the back of her neck, and he pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers. “I will happily accept whatever you offer. But it will not change my heart.”

“I don’t want to change your heart. I just want to know mine.”