Page 52 of The Untamed Heart

“How is the portrait coming along?”

Marcus dragged his thoughts unwillingly away from the fascinating woman who seemed to consume them more each day. “Eh? Oh, Eustacia seems pleased, but it’s more than my life’s worth to take a peek. She’s most territorial about her studio.”

“Very well, you had better be off, then. I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.”

“Do that, and thank you,” Marcus said, and wasted no time but bade Hawkney a polite goodbye and hurried out to the stables. He ought to just be in time to sit down and eat.

Willow House, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 28th September 1816

Clara looked down at Benny, who was gazing up at her with soulful eyes.

“I know!” she exclaimed in frustration. “I know I messed everything up.”

Benny made a huffing sound that suggested he agreed with her. She scraped the remains of the bit of ham she’d intended to eat into Benny’s bowl and set it down for him. She had not been able to face breakfast either, for her stomach was in a knot and had been since she’d walked out on Hawkney.

Alex, she corrected herself. He had been so very gracious as to tell her he was her friend, to ask her to call him Alex, and to worry himself about her future, when he had so many other calls upon his time. Her ingratitude and appalling behaviour had played on her mind ever since. She had not slept. She could not eat. It was intolerable.

There was no help for it, she must apologise.

The idea made her cheeks burn with shame and embarrassment, for he must think her the worst kind of ninny, or a lunatic. Yes, perhaps his reaction had been a little harsh, a little too vehement, but it was nothing but the truth. No one would ever mistake Clara for the duke’s lover, and if that hurt her feelings, she was an absolute fool.

She had not been in society much, but she had seen enough to know how lovely, how accomplished and well-bred were the women who paraded their wares before him. He would marry soon enough, for surely, he ought to have done so by now, and then… and then… the idea of continuing to be his friend made her throat tight.

But why? She had no designs upon him, no idiotic dreams of a life where a dull little spinster like her won the heart of one of the biggest matrimonial prizes in the country.

Had she?

Clara put her head in her hands. For a moment she allowed herself to feel it, the dreadful longing for something that was entirely out of her grasp, and then she let out a breath. No more. She was too sensible to pine for something that was not meant for her. His friendship was a gift, more precious to her than anything she could have imagined, and she would be a fool to put that at risk because of some silly infatuation, for it was nothing more than that. It could not be more than that. For the space of a heartbeat, she had mistaken his kindness for something else. It would not happen again.

So, she would put it to one side, tuck it away in a hidden corner of her heart, and never think of it again.

Hatherley Hall, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 28th September 1816

Alex looked up as Howard cleared his throat. How long had the man been standing there?

Alex knew he did not need to apologise or feel chagrined at having completely ignored the man—and for several minutes if he had to guess—but all the same.

“I beg your pardon, Howard, these…er…” Alex glanced down at the book in front of him, trying to remember what it was he’d been completely unable to concentrate on. “Ledgers! Yes, ledgers… for Pencombe Place. They’re… rather absorbing,” he said weakly.

Howard did not so much as blink at this uncomfortably awkward explanation, but Alex cringed all the same.

“Forgive me for the interruption, your grace, but Miss Halfpenny is here to see you.”

“Clara!” Alex exclaimed, standing so quickly he nearly tipped the chair over. “I mean, Miss Halfpenny. Really?” Howard looked a little startled and Alex cleared his throat and arranged the items on his desk self-consciously.

“Did she happen to say what she wanted?” he asked. For the love of God, pull yourself together, man.

“She did not confide that in me, sir,” Howard replied, giving Alex a look of concern.

“No, no, of course not. She probably wishes to… to ask me about something.” Oh, well done, Alex, most eloquent. “Well, we’d best not keep her waiting, please do send her in.”

Howard nodded and withdrew.

Alex took a breath and tried to cudgel his resisting brain into some semblance of order. Why was she here? Had she come to rail at him for his rudeness? Had she come to tell him she never wished to see him again?

The thought made his stomach twist into a knot, but then the door opened and there she was.

Howard discreetly closed the door behind her, and Alex knew he ought to object.