Page 36 of The Untamed Heart

She finished laying out the cups and saucers and looked up, her smile fading as she read the look in his eyes.

“I-I….” she stammered uncertainly. “I have angered you?”

He shook his head. “Don’t be idiotic.”

She quirked an eyebrow at that less than reassuring reply and he let out a breath of impatience.

“I don’t like it, that… that you must live under such conditions, at the whim of an old lady who clearly takes advantage of you.”

“I’m only making tea,” Clara said, giving him an odd look.

“It’s not that, it’s the lack of respect with which she speaks to you. Would it kill her to say thank you, or to address you by your name without a complaint at her lips?” he demanded irritably.

Clara considered this. “Probably,” she said, lips twitching.

Hawkney glowered at her. “It’s no laughing matter, Clara. What will become of you when—”

He snapped his mouth shut too late. It was none of his business, none of his affair, and yet it mattered. What would happen to her when her aunt died?

“It must be the storm,” she said, slanting a glance at him as she opened the tea caddy. “It has put you out of temper.”

“It is not the storm,” he said crossly. “It is seeing a woman I esteem, whom I consider a friend, in circumstances that fall a long way short of satisfactory.”

Clara, who had been selecting teaspoons, looked up with a start. “Y-Your friend,” she repeated, blinking owlishly at him.

“Yes, my friend. And why not?” Hawkney demanded, and with the sensation of being out on a limb, for she was looking at him as though he had said something quite extraordinary. Did she not see him as a friend? For he realised he had considered her such for some little time now.

Clara opened and closed her mouth, set the teaspoons down, and then picked them up again. “You are a duke,” she said carefully.

“Does that make me ineligible for the position?” he asked tersely, striding to the window and looking out at the downpour, which seemed to fall harder than ever, the wind howling around the building and down the chimneys, rattling the windows.

“No,” she replied, a gentleness to her words that he found increasingly vexing. “But my position makes me ineligible, as I am certain you are aware.”

“It didn’t bother Sheringham, why should it bother me?” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He didn’t even know why he’d said them, for it sounded very much like jealousy, and it… it could not be that.

“Sheringham?” she repeated, frowning at him. “I don’t understand.”

Good, he thought wildly, making an impatient waving gesture and hoping she would leave it at that. “Never mind,” he said quickly, praying she would leave it be. Some hope.

“What has Lord Sheringham to do with me being or not being your friend?” she persisted, gazing at him in confusion.

Hawkney clamped his lips shut, but the words seemed to have a life of their own and burst from him without his permission.

“Well, you seem to be friends with him.”

“Did I?” Clara’s hand went to her throat, a dull flush of colour appearing beneath the high neck of her gown and spreading over her face. She did not blush prettily, and yet Hawkney could not help but wonder how far that rosy colour extended.

What the devil was the matter with him?

“I did not think I did or said anything I ought not?” she said, her expression so troubled that Hawkney cursed himself for a brute.

“I am certain you behaved with propriety, I did not mean… I would never imply…” He blew out a harsh breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Clara, forgive me. I spoke out of turn. You did nothing wrong.”

She gazed at him, her clear green eyes settling on his face. She sees me, was the only thought in his mind under the weight of that quiet scrutiny. She sees through me, too.

“I would be honoured to be considered your friend, Hawkney.”

“Alex.”