Page 11

“Since this is your idea, perhaps you should begin,” Clara said. The duke sipped his tea patiently, the set of his features suggesting mild pleasure that she was being more reasonable.

“We must arrive at and leave public events together. At balls, we must dance the first dance, as though there is nothing that can stop us from expressing our happiness. I will send you flowers every Monday, and we must never contradict each other in public.” His eyebrows quirked wryly. “I’m sure this last part will be the most difficult for you, but I want to give people the impression that we are besotted with each other.”

“Why? Why go to these lengths?”

“As I mentioned to your grandmother, London can be tiring.”

Clara shook her head. It seemed like such lengths to go to just to escape a bit of attention. She wondered if she detected a hint of evasiveness in his attitude, but at that moment she didn’t think she would be able to discern any of his thoughts.

“Although it shall be difficult, it shall not be impossible. I can adhere to all of those rules.”

“Wonderful.”

“Although I do have one of my own.”

“Oh?” Gerald asked, arching an eyebrow. Clara clasped her hands together and spoke clearly. She wanted no misunderstanding about this particular rule.

“There shall be no kissing. I understand you want to convince everyone that the illusion is real, but there are limits to the lengths I will go to for trickery.”

Clara was utterly in earnest, but Gerald seemed to find it amusing. His voice rolled on laughter as he replied.

“You do not need to worry, Miss Sterling. I have no intention of kissing you.”

Clara’s brows drew together. Was she so very unkissable?

“I am not thinking merely of today, but the days that will come the longer we pretend. It is insurance against anything unexpected that may happen in the weeks to come, Your Grace,” Clara said, managing to maintain her composure. The duke drummed his fingers across the table and had a thoughtful look on his face.

“I believe it would be prudent for you to call me Gerald,” he said. He held out his hand, beckoning her to his side.

They began practicing how to enter a ballroom together, since he wanted to give the impression that they had been courting for a while. They stood side by side, and she stared at him as he held out his arm practically straight, his hand stretched, wide palm exposed.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Waiting to escort you,” he replied.

“You look as though you are greeting a business associate. We are not going to shake hands, Gerald,” she said. His name slipped out without her realizing it, and she almost swallowed it back, but it was too late. He didn’t seem to mind. He might not have even noticed. “You are far too rigid,” she said briskly, hoping to cover up her error. “you must relax. If you are attending a ball with me, you are supposed to be happy. Look, you must position your arm like this.”

Clara took his arm and pulled his elbow back, forming an angle. As she placed her hands against his arm, she felt the taut muscles beneath his clothes, as well as the shape of his bicep. Her heart fluttered, a most unwelcome sensation, and she attempted to ignore it. She then placed her hand closer to his body and slipped her arm around his. Her hand came to rest on his forearm. She became aware of the warmth that emanated from his body and made the air sizzle.

“Well, since we are offering critiques, you must look at me with a little more affection,” he said, angling his head to gaze at her. Clara turned to meet his gaze and was captivated by his eyes again. His features were perfectly symmetrical, his eyebrows thick and dark, but not unruly. His nostrils were flared, and his lips had a shape to them that was not smug or scowling, but wry.

“We should practice walking,” Clara mumbled, forcing herself to turn away. At first they walked at different paces, with Clara’s competitive nature wanting to outpace him. He had to shorten his strides a little, while she had to be more patient and allow him to lead.

“I suppose this isn’t too complicated,” he said. “Have you done this before?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Really? I should have thought you had made your debut in the ton by now, especially given your heritage. Would you not consider yourself to be a diamond in waiting?”

“I would not, and it seems to me you think too much. There has simply been too much to do. St. Margaret’s needs me more than the ton does,” Clara said, and wasn’t inclined to share any more information with him than that.

Love was indeed something she used to crave, but that had changed over the years as she realized people valued her for the practical way she managed things. The precocious girl had grown into a responsible young woman. Her family was quick to boast of how much responsibility she could handle, and love faded in the shadow of all her duties..

“My, you two seem to be learning quickly, although if you want a tip then, Clara, lean into him a little more. It won’t be long before people believe you’re really in love.” Agatha bustled in, took one look at the two of them, and she laughed and rubbed her hands together. Clara winced in embarrassment at the interruption.

Agatha settled at the table and pulled out some cards. Despite her failing memory, she could still shuffle deftly, and her love of cards had never wavered. She began to play solitaire, and Clara took this as a sign that the first lesson had come to an end.

Clara withdrew from the Duke, slipping her arm away. Without her meaning to, her fingers lingered on his arm, feeling the shape of it. She turned and drew her hand back to her body, feeling as though it betrayed her.