Page 10 of Secrets of a Duke (Chronicle of Misadventures #2)

10

CLARA

“ G o where?” the duke asked.

Clara met his gaze for a moment, and regret filtered through her. But she had no time for regret. She would have to be quick if she was to catch the mail coach.

“I am going away.” She tore her eyes away from him and turned, only to stop once more. She clasped the coin in her palm for a moment, then looked down at it. This coin was the price the duke had paid for her. She needed it sorely. But she also hated it, for it represented the abyss that lay between them and the small, almost valueless place she occupied in the world.

She shifted to face him, and his brown eyes were full of confusion.

Heart throbbing, she reached for his hand and brought it between them. It was an unforgivable presumption and intimacy, but she hadn’t the heart to care. She was leaving.

She transferred the guinea to his hand and pressed his fingers around it. “Thank you for what you did for me. Goodbye, Your Grace. ”

She turned to leave, but the duke’s hand grasped hers. “Wait, Clara.”

She shut her eyes, wishing that her name on his lips did not make her feel the things she felt.

“Why are you leaving?”

She remained silent, torn between a desire to tell him and a fear of what would happen if she did. All the while, his hand held hers, keeping her where she was. She wanted to return its pressure, but she left her hand limp in his.

“Is it because of what happened earlier?” he asked. “That was entirely my fault, Clara, and I assure you, it will not happen again. I was not thinking.”

She shut her eyes. She wanted it to happen again. She craved being near him. Which was why she needed to leave.

“Please. Do not go.”

She finally turned toward him, needing to see his face, to understand why it mattered in the least to him whether she was at Rushlake or Bedlam.

She let her eyes drop and pulled her hand gently away, trying for a smile. “I do not belong here, Your Grace. You and I both know that.”

There was a short silence. “Do you mean to return to your husband?”

Clara’s gaze jumped to his. “What? No.” She searched his face, trying to understand why he would ask her such a thing. Did he believe her to be nursing a broken heart? “I married John out of desperation, Your Grace—too quickly to comprehend the habits that consumed him. We were married but a few short weeks.”

His brow knit. “Then where are you going?”

“To seek employment elsewhere.”

“Have you been unhappy at Rushlake?”

“No. But I have made everyone else so. My presence here has made things worse for you in particular, and that is not at all what I want. It will be better this way.” She had little hope she would reach the village in time for the mail coach tonight, which would mean waiting until tomorrow. Would Mrs. Finch be upset if she slept at Rushlake and left in the morning? Clara did not wish to spend her precious money on lodgings for the night.

The door opened, and Silas’s head appeared. “Forgive me,” he said upon seeing them, and the door closed again.

The duke’s eyes lingered on it for a moment before he turned back to her. “It is true that the gossip surrounding what happened at the market that day has been aggravating. I have been concerned on your behalf, for you have not received the treatment I had hoped for from the other servants. And, to be frank, a few hours ago, I might have even agreed with your decision to leave. But everything has changed now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Silas,” the duke said. “Tonight is the first time I have seen my brother in nearly two years. His arrival is entirely unexpected—and completely foolhardy. There is not sufficient time to acquaint you with the particulars of his situation at the moment, but suffice it to say, no one must know he is here. Not a soul apart from you and myself. Do you understand?”

She nodded, but a hundred questions filled her mind.

“I need you, Clara. I need you at Rushlake.”

She swallowed, thrusting away her heart’s determination to make more of his words than he meant.

“Silas is set upon remaining in England, and I have agreed to keep him here on the condition that he remain hidden. Such a feat will require your help and a fair amount of strategy between the three of us.”

Clara listened intently, trying to wrap her mind around what precisely he was asking of her .

“Are you familiar with the hunting lodge on Rushlake’s grounds?” he asked.

“I have heard it spoken of, Your Grace.”

“Silas will remain there. It would be your task to ensure he has food and drink and that he can stretch his legs once or twice a day without being seen.” He looked at her intently. “It is a great deal to ask of you, I know, but you will receive ample compensation for your trouble. I will double your wages.”

Clara’s heart leaped to her throat. Double? That was as much as she had earned as Lady Redgrave’s personal maid. She had resigned herself to the fact she would not find a position as good as this one at Rushlake, but now that the duke was offering to double her wages…it was unthinkable she would find a comparable situation elsewhere.

“What do you say?” he asked. “Will you remain?”

Her eyes searched his, but her mind was rehashing her conversation with Mrs. Finch. The housekeeper had insisted Clara was harming the duke by being at Rushlake. What would she say now if she knew he insisted he needed Clara?

She dropped her gaze and shut her eyes. Looking at the duke made it impossible to think rationally. Simply looking into his eyes, she was nearly certain she would have agreed to stay without any salary at all.

But he was not asking that of her. He was offering her a generous wage, comfortable lodgings, and an opportunity to repay him for his kindness to her.

How could she refuse?

“It is a serious thing I am asking of you,” he said. “My brother’s very life and my own reputation hang in the balance. There are few people I feel I can trust.”

“I understand, Your Grace.” An eagerness to prove herself filtered through her. She would have to rein in her heart, though, and do better to maintain the proper distance dictated by their respective positions. She would prove Mrs. Finch wrong. “I will stay.”

“Clara…”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“I am entrusting you with the greatest secret I possess. If I am to do so, I need you to look me in the eye, something so few seem willing to do these days.”

She brought her head up until their gazes met. His warm, brown eyes met hers, full of the weight of his burden—a burden he was asking her to share with him. He searched her eyes for seconds that felt like minutes. What did he see? Could he tell just by looking at her why she had been dismissed by her last master? Could he see the affection in which she held him?

Finally, he gave a nod. “I ask you to always look me in the eye when we speak. This is simply too precarious a situation for us not to be entirely honest with one another. Can I trust you to speak the truth to me?”

How would she manage to keep her eyes on his and her heart in its place when the mere sight of him made hers race? She would have to find a way. “You may depend upon me, Your Grace.”

“Thank you.” He glanced behind him at the door to the gun room. “We should decide upon a plan with him.”

“Certainly, Your Grace.” Just as urgently, she would need a plan of her own to keep her heart safe.