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“Beautiful things can often be dangerous,” Gerald said without thinking.

“And what inspires you to say that?” Eleanor asked. Gerald’s gaze flicked up and he realized he had misspoken. His cheeks flushed, and he cleared his throat.

“I’m not entirely sure. It’s just an old adage, I suppose.”

“Really? You mean to tell me there is nothing in this room that is beautiful and dangerous? Not one single thing… or one single person?” Eleanor imbued these last words with a deeper knowledge, one that made Gerald’s skin crawl.

“I’m not sure what you’re implying, Eleanor, but I don’t appreciate the tone of your voice. It’s improper for a younger sister to tease her older brother like that.”

“I’m not sure it is, Gerald. I think that you simply don’t like it.”

Gerald pressed his lips together and snipped off another stem. It was quite thick, and he had to use more force than usual, but there was something satisfying about that.

“Then we must agree to disagree. If you are going to offer such unhelpful comments, then perhaps it is better for you to leave. I’m sure I can place those stems into a box,” he said.

Eleanor leaned into him and lowered her voice. There was a playful, smoky look in her eyes, one that he hadn’t seen before. It was as though she was becoming more of a woman with every passing day.

“Is that because you want to be alone with Clara?”

The question had such an effect on Gerald that he dropped the clippers. They clattered to the table, and he snatched them up, wishing he could pretend that nothing had happened.

“Not at all,” he hissed, glaring at Eleanor, who just looked pleased with herself. “I fear your imagination has been fueled by Agatha’s stories. You shouldn’t take too many of them to heart. She’s probably imagined most of them.”

Eleanor wore a look on her face that suggested she took the words personally.

“That’s not true,” she said indignantly. Gerald decided not to press the matter, although Eleanor wasn’t finished.

“I don’t know why you are acting as though it’s anything to be ashamed of. It’s quite wonderful. I never thought I would see the day.”

“What day? What are you on about?”

“The day when you fell in love, of course. You have been looking at Clara all this time, Gerald. In fact, you’ve rarely been looking at me. I’ve been rather worried that you might chop one of your fingers off.”

“Nonsense. I haven’t been looking at her at all.”

Eleanor chuckled and shook her head. “There’s no need to be so self-conscious about it. As I said, it’s delightful. I just hope that you do not ignore me for the rest of the season. I would hate to be neglected by my own brother, even if you think you have just cause.”

Gerald glared at her. Deep down he knew that her conclusions were correct. Perhaps not about love, but certainly about being distracted by Clara. He glanced down at the tool and noticed how close it was to his skin. He moved his fingers down the stem slightly, away from danger.

“Which season are you planning for the wedding? I always thought there was something romantic about getting married in the winter, especially if there’s snow, although of course we can’t guarantee such a thing. Does Clara have any preference? Perhaps I shall ask her.”

“You shall do no such thing,” Gerald said with such ferocity that Eleanor looked quite disturbed. The smile fell from her face and it became clear that this was no longer a playful matter. It never had been for Gerald. Intensity flared in his eyes. Eleanor withdrew, and her shoulders became rounded.

“I don’t see why you should be so mean, brother.”

“Because I would like it to be a surprise,” Gerald lied adeptly.

What he truly wanted to say was that there would be no proposal because this was nothing but trickery. However, then he would have to go on and tell Eleanor that he had only done this for her benefit and she would likely find that patronizing.

“I see,” the feline smile returned to Eleanor’s face again. “How sly of you brother. I wasn’t sure you were capable of such a thing. Well, I’m sure marriage isn’t far from Clara’s mind, so you should ask her before the hour gets too late. The flame will only burn for so long, of course,” she said.

Gerald inclined his head, as though he agreed with her. In reality, he was simply glad that they could stop speaking about the matter, and that he could focus on clipping the stems. Now that Eleanor pointed it out, he tried to be more conscious of how often he looked at Clara. It was still more frequent than was socially acceptable, but as long as nobody noticed he didn’t think it would do any harm.

As for the effects on himself, well, it offered a moment of relief, soothing some deep anguish in his soul that he failed to notice until Clara had entered his life.

It wasn’t as though she caused it, more that she allowed it to become visible, and now he could not ignore it.

It was most troublesome indeed. The other thing that did not escape his attention was that Eleanor mentioned the proposal as well. Gerald had already had to placate Alfred with a hint that one would be forthcoming. At some point the house of cards they were building would all come falling down. No doubt his reputation would take a hit, especially from Alfred, who would never forgive him for wasting his daughter’s precious time.