Page 55

And all it cost was a little bit of Clara’s time, at least that was the intent. In truth, it had taken a great deal more than that.

“I am grateful to you for going through with this,” he said. His gaze was directed to his feet, while his voice sank low.

“It’s not as though you gave me a choice. The fate of St. Margaret’s depended on it.”

He looked up, and their eyes met. Intensity flashed within his.

“Do you truly think I would have let my grandmother’s legacy fail?” he said.

In the beginning she might have believed that, but now… no. No, he wasn’t the kind of man to let his family’s honor fade. Which meant that she had fallen into his trap. If she had called his bluff, then she would never have been placed in this situation, but her fear made her desperate.

“You tricked me.”

“I played the hand as best I could.”

“This could ruin me. You are like Duke, and I am like his ball. You are toying with me, rolling me around at your whim. Do you take glee from this? Do you enjoy seeing me suffer?”

Clara would never forget the words he spoke next, nor the way his voice sounded. It was raw and wounded, as though he had just been on an odyssey and was clinging to his last breaths.

“It is I who suffers, Clara. It is I who have already been ruined.”

Lightning flashed in his eyes. She caught a glimpse of the storm that raged within his soul. The words were so intense she flinched.

“What do you mean

“It’s inconsequential. We should continue; otherwise, the ballroom will be left unfinished, and that won’t do at all,” he spoke curtly, angling his body away before the words had fully left his mouth.

By the time they lingered around her, Gerald was already moving to the far side of the room. Clara clenched her jaw and furrowed her brow, annoyed that he was still playing these kinds of games.

In what way was he possibly the victim? He was the one who had sought to break her rules. He was the one who had offered nothing but silence when she asked him if she meant anything to him.

Goodness, she had even turned away another respectable suitor for his sake! She had played the role perfectly, and yet he was still dissatisfied. Well, perhaps she had been too forgiving of his flaws. Yes, he was a good man, kind to the children, generous, and a wonderful brother, but he was still pig-headed and rigid.

Clara needed this to be over as soon as possible so she could get on with her life, however, it may take shape.

She focused on the decorations, as Gerald suggested. An archway was placed at the entrance of the ballroom, offering a floral entrance. Clara climbed up the stepladder to place flowers at the height of the arch, occasionally stepping back to make sure that she spaced them out correctly; otherwise, the flowers would be bunched up and the whole thing would look imbalanced.

After making one of these observations, she was ascending the step ladder again when her dress caught on one of the lower flowers.

There was a small tear. Clara muttered in annoyance and attempted to pull her dress free; however, this effort might well have been infused with some of the festering frustration caused by Gerald. The dress bore the brunt of her ire, the rip widening, the stitches coming apart. A frustrated grunt echoed through the ballroom as she tried to wrestle the dress free. The offending piece of the plant was twisted at an odd angle.

“Let me help,” Gerald said.

He came from nowhere, or at least it seemed to be that way. She was halfway down the stepladder. He sank to one knee, where he could better see the dress. Their hands brushed for an instant as she withdrew hers. She pulled them back as though they were scorched by fire.

“A Duke should not be kneeling at my feet,” Clara said, her cheeks growing red. Gerald was so close to her legs and waist, with only a thin layer of material existing between his hands and her body.

The thoughts were forbidden and wrong and completely inappropriate, yet they came anyway. They thundered in her mind, overcoming her senses like an orchestra, and she was powerless to silence them.

“And you should not have to rip your entire dress apart when there is no need,” he replied. “Better your dignity be spared than mine.”

Before Clara could retort, voices appeared at the entrance. Lord Ashcombe stopped by with two ladies from the fundraising committee. They stood at the other side of the arch, their path obscured by the sight of Gerald on his knees before Clara. From their angle, it must only have looked like one thing.

“Oh, I do apologize. I didn’t realize we would be interrupting anything important,” Lord Ashcombe said, his eyes shining with curiosity. The two ladies beside him blushed and smiled. Clara wanted the ground to swallow her up.

“I was just attending to a small trouble. Let us get out of your way,” Gerald said smoothly. He rose as though nothing had happened, having just freed Clara’s dress at the moment when Lord Ashcombe arrived. He offered Clara his arm, who really had no choice but to take it. She wrapped her soft arm around the steel of his, and stepped off the ladder.

“Things are looking marvelous, Miss Sterling. You really have outdone yourself. It’s going to look utterly splendid when it’s finished,” Lord Ashcombe said. “Now we’ll leave you to… ah… whatever you were doing.” He escorted the women around the ballroom. They tittered with laughter and glanced over their shoulders.