Page 27 of Forever Her Bachelor
The entire display made St. Clara sick to his stomach. It was Summerset who was in the wrong, not him.
“Excuse me. Lady Allendale and Lady Florentia must be escorted home,” St. Clara gritted out, barely containing the adrenaline that was still pumping through his veins.
“Allow me to accompany you.” Edwards stood beside him, his body coiled tight, ready to restrain St. Clara again.
“There is no need for a chaperone, Edwards.” Flexing his neck, St. Clara walked toward the door, needing to be away from Summerset.
“No, but you need a friend.” Edwards placed his hand on St. Clara’s shoulder, guiding him out of the library.
St. Clara’s heart beat rapidly in his chest as he maneuvered his way through the small townhouse. Before they reached Julia’s parlor, he and Edwards met the ladies in the hallway.
“St. Clara, Edwards, is everything well?” Julia asked, her eyes on St. Clara. She had a natural ability to know when something was amiss.
St. Clara avoided eye contact with her, looking from Lady Allendale to Florentia. “Ladies, may I escort you both home? I’m afraid the hour is late.”
“Of course, Your Grace. Conversation was becoming rather tedious.” Lady Allendale’s gaze drifted over to Pippa and her aunt.
Biting his tongue, St. Clara waited as the ladies bade farewell to Julia and the Dowager Marchioness Heartford. His eyes locked with wide hazel eyes, and it was in that moment, he knew she would be his.
Summerset be damned.
The carriage bounced through the darkened streets of Mayfair in the early hours of the morning when darkness ruledthe pristine streets. Pippa couldn’t stop replaying the events of the evening in her mind. It had been a very eventful evening; her lips still tingled from the best part of it, her body on fire all over as if she was still safely in his arms.
Pippa was finding it rather difficult to sit in the same carriage as her aunt, uncle, and Summerset with St. Clara’s scent ingrained in every crevice of her mind. She closed her eyes, trying to hold on to a piece of him for the rest of her days. She would never betray her aunt and marry him. If she did, that would mean destitution for the woman who raised her.
A hard knee knocked into Pippa’s, jolting her out of her thoughts. She looked up, locking gazes with an angry Summerset. She couldn’t help but stare at the prominent bruise on his cheek, wondering what exactly had happened when the men had retired to the library. A slight echo of raised voices had intruded on the women’s time in Julia’s parlor. The growing bruise on his thin cheek had Pippa’s curiosity piqued, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was the reason.
Dear Lord, what had St. Clara done?
Pippa had assumed that the culprit responsible for Summerset’s injuries and foul temper was the Duke of St. Clara. It was clear when an agitated St. Clara rushed Lady Allendale and Lady Florentia out of the townhouse that something had happened. It wasn’t until Summerset and her uncle joined them that she’d noticed the state of Summerset.
Closing her eyes, she could still feel the warmth of St. Clara’s body against hers, feel how awakened she felt in his arms.
Marry him?
A thrill tingled at the base of her neck as the memory of his words assaulted her. Biting her lip, she tried to fight the images of him pressed against her, his brown eyes demanding and needy. She could still feel his hands on her, his lips on her neck.
Turning toward the small carriage window, Pippa released a breath, trying not to allow the fear at the pit of her stomach to consume her. Soon she would be out of the carriage, away from Summerset.
Was she really considering St. Clara’s proposal … again?
She wanted to laugh at the irony of her life. St. Clara had first proposed to her nine years earlier when she was just a girl and he was everything to her. She’d trusted him more than anyone else in the world, even her aunt, and then… he failed her.
Question after question swarmed in her head, rendering her dizzy in the moving carriage. The deserted streets of Mayfair passed by from the small window of Summerset’s coach. It was one of the finest she had ever been in. The dark-burgundy velvet seats and thick black embroidered curtains with gold tassels on the small windows were proof of Summerset’s fortune.
Finally, the carriage came to a stop in front of her home. Beside the smaller townhouse, St. Clara’s residence, Bennett House, beckoned to her. It was just like its master: striking to look at, proud and foreboding. Pippa released a sigh of relief, desperately ready to be free of the stifling company and into the safety of her room.
Summerset sat rigid by Sir Wayford’s side, his lips in a thin line, nostrils flaring. Beady black eyes pierced Pippa in place, fear running through her veins. It seized her, growing from a dull ache, causing her body to shiver and her heart rate to increase.
“Thank you for escorting us, Your Grace,” her aunt said in a shaky voice, her eyes shifting from Pippa to Summerset.
In response, the duke nodded before he turned to Pippa’s uncle. “I’d like a moment alone with Miss Price.”
“I’m sure it can—” Her aunt protested but was interrupted by her husband’s eager voice.
“Of course.” He agreed before he hastily exited the carriage.
Her aunt turned to her with sad, watery eyes. Pippa gave her a reassuring smile and a hand squeeze, letting the other woman know she was well. But she was anything but calm in that moment, for the thought of being alone with Summerset frightened her. A recent occurrence as Pippa was rarely afraid of anyone.