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“I’m sorry for bringing up your father. I shouldn’t have asked the question,” she said. Her head was bowed, and her hands were clasped together.

“You don’t have to apologize, Clara. It caught me off guard. I am not in the habit of speaking about such things.”

“Of course, and it was never part of our agreement.”

“It wasn’t, but it was not disagreeable to speak about something… real,” he said, extra emphasis landing on that final word.

The weight in his voice caused her to look up, and she was arrested by his gaze. For all that pretense and performance swirled around them, there were still true elements that shone through, elements that were undeniable. They had shared something profound with each other, something that offered a bridge between them.

The carriage arrived at the townhouse far sooner than Clara expected, and she felt dismayed that the day was over so suddenly. It did not seem right that it should end with them dwelling on serious matters, even if Gerald did reassure her.

Gerald opened the door for her and then held out his hand, offering his steady strength. Clara took it without question. Her hand folded into his palm. The muscles twitched and his long fingers wrapped around her skin, pressing her in tight warmth. She climbed down slowly, and when her feet touched the ground, he was still holding her hand.

Another moment passed.

He hadn’t let go yet.

Clara lifted her gaze. His eyes shone even in the shadows of the carriage, reminding her of the lake.

“You don’t need to make these gestures when nobody is watching,” she whispered. Gerald had a kind smile upon his face.

“I know,” he said, and then he did pull his hand away. Clara drew hers back towards her chest, cradling it, as though it was something to be treasured. She turned towards the house as the carriage rolled away and she felt as though something had shifted. Her mind was troubled because this was only supposed to last the season, yet she felt intrigued by him, drawn to him… oh, why had she allowed herself to speak about personal matters? The more they shared, the more dangerous the situation became.

As soon as she entered the house, Beatrice came rushing towards her. She linked arms with Clara and smiled widely.

“You must tell me everything,” Beatrice said. “Are you in love with him yet?”

“Not quite, Beatrice, not quite,” Clara said, although she wasn’t sure if this was another performance, or if she was revealing another truth. Either way, for the rest of the day her thoughts lingered on Gerald in a most troubling manner.

Chapter Nine

“How is everything proceeding?” Gerald said, raising his voice to be heard over the cacophony of hammers and saws.

St. Margaret’s was busier than it had been in years, full of carpenters, masons, and plumbers that Gerald had hired. The foreman was called Rupert Gleeson. He was a thickset man with a heavy brow and calloused fingers. The top of his left ear had been shorn off, the result of a work accident, Gerald assumed.

“It’s going well, Your Grace. Everythin’ will be done on schedule. That’s the Gleeson way. You have my word, Your Grace,” he said, nodding firmly. “Do you want to see what we’re workin’ on today? The men are happy to talk to you.”

Gerald passed his gaze over the army of men who were all hard at work. Their brows were slick with sweat, and their muscles swelled.

“I wouldn’t want to distract you from your work. I shall be inside the house if you need me.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Rupert said, bowing stiffly in a way that made it clear he hadn’t bowed many times before. Gerald left them to it and went in search of Clara. He entered the house and was greeted by Emily. She flashed her bright smile at him and stood by his side.

“I had Sophie draw this for you,” she said, and handed him a drawing. It depicted him with a small girl, holding hands.

“Oh, how wonderful. Is that Sophie and me?”

Emily pouted. “No, it’s me,” she said.

“Oh, of course. I see it now. My mistake. I think I must have some sawdust in my eye from being with the builders,” Gerald said, rubbing his eyes. He made a point of re-examining the picture and nodded firmly.

“It’s wonderful.”

“You will keep it, won’t you?” Emily asked, her eyes filled with hope.

“Of course. It shall never stray far from my sight,” he said, then folded the drawing carefully and placed it in his inside pocket.

Emily smiled and then rushed off, leaving Gerald to find Clara. He heard the sound of humming coming from a nearby room, sweet and melodious. When he arrived at the doorway, he saw Clara tidying some toys that had been strewn across the floor. Her hair was pinned back neatly, and her dress wrapped tightly around her body.