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Clara’s heart sank.

It was a perfectly innocent mistake, but she knew the Ton was going to have a field day with speculation and rumor. The Duke, on his knee in front of the woman he was courting.

Surely there was only one conclusion they would draw?

Chapter Twenty-Three

“When do you think we should schedule the children’s surprise?” Gerald asked.

He and Clara were standing at a table, looking at the schedule for the gala. It was now only a day away, and Clemont Hall was fizzing with energy. Servants were carrying large tables into the ballroom. The musicians tuned their instruments and rehearsed their repertoire. There were flurries of melodic noise, followed by lulls of silence.

Clara puffed out her cheeks and threw her hands in the air.

“Without knowing what it is, I have no idea. Perhaps they should go on last?”

Gerald pressed his lips together and swallowed a lump in his throat. “Ah, I think we already have something scheduled to go on last.”

Clara glanced towards the schedule.

“It’s only the musicians playing. There will be plenty of that through the night. I’m sure nobody will mind if we curtail the performance, and whatever the children have planned, it might leave everyone in a good mood. On the other hand, if it’s a disaster, then at least it will not affect anyone’s donations.”

“I hardly think it will be a disaster.”

“But we cannot be sure. I love Grandmother, but there are times when she lacks judgment, and we cannot be certain that she has taken everything into account. What if she has gotten confused again? The children won’t know well enough to make corrections. They’ll just do as she says. Having it at the end is the right decision. It will either be a good send-off, or it can be humored and then forgotten.”

“I think you are allowing your worries to overwhelm you,” Gerald said, although he had plenty of worries of his own for the climax of the evening. Agatha wasn’t the only one who had arranged a surprise, although the closer the evening grew, the more anxious Gerald felt about it.

“I only worry because this might well be the most important night of my life. Of St. Margaret’s life.” Her voice grew higher in pitch and the strain was evident on her face. She placed her hand against her forehead and took a moment to breath deeply. When Gerald spoke, he ensured that his voice was calm.

“Clara, I fear that in your worry you are forgetting a few things. While the children might well be able to stay awake due to the excitement of the evening, it’s better that they should perform this surprise earlier when they are more alert. The more sluggish they are, the more chance there is of something going wrong. If it is at the beginning of the evening, then it will set the mood for the entire night. Even if it is slightly offbeat, I’m sure people will find it endearing. After all, we can hardly criticize children for poor judgment, and nobody would dare to insult Agatha by telling her that her notion was ill-conceived. Furthermore, if we place it at the end of the night, then you will only be worrying about it for the entire evening. You won’t have a chance to relax. Let us get it over with at the beginning.”

Clara listened to his words carefully and then, much to Gerald’s relief, sighed and nodded.

“You do make good points, Gerald. Very well, we shall schedule them for the beginning. Let us hope that they delight.”

“I think we both know that they will. They’re too charming to do anything else.”

Gerald’s gaze lingered upon her, and he felt he ought to say something more. It always seemed as though they were on the cusp of having an important conversation, yet at the last second it eluded them. Even now the words died on his lips. There were a few times he caught Clara looking at him in a certain way, as though she was about to ask him a question, but she never did.

Every time he took a breath to speak to her, he was interrupted by clanging music or the clatter of a table being moved in the ballroom. There were so many distractions, not least of which was the schedule before them. So many things took precedence over their feelings. He wondered if she had been shaken by their conversation the previous day. So far she hadn’t made any reference to his words. She looked at him coolly, as though she was unbothered by everything.

Was that how little she meant to him? Was that how focused she was on St. Margaret’s? Nothing else meant anything to her. He tried to kiss her twice, to bear his feelings, and she gave him nothing in return other than a scolding tone and an icy look.

And yet he could not pull away from her.

If anything, it only drove him to be closer. He thought about Theodore, who spent his entire life loving a woman he could never be truly sure would be his. Did that fate await him? Would he lose Clara to her duties? In some ways it was worse than losing her to another man.

Perhaps, after the gala, things would change.

“We should take the flowers to the greenhouse now; otherwise, they will suffer from being in the house. We must try our best to maintain their color and shape,” she said. These flowers were not ones that had been placed in the arch, but ones that would be spread around in bouquets, the intention being to create a lush and vivid atmosphere.

They were gathered in boxes and carried out with the help of maids, although Clara and Gerald took a box each. In the greenhouse, they arranged them carefully so that there would be no danger of the flowers inside being damaged.

Gerald stared at the boxes thoughtfully.

“A short time ago I never would have imagined hosting an event like this. It’s strange how one simple arrangement can change the entire spectrum of a life.”

“I’m not sure there is anything simple about our arrangement.”