“Oh, we didn’t.”
Quincy, more confused than ever, waited for her to elaborate. But the dowager viscountess was apparently done with him, for she turned to Lenora and Margery and fell into heated conversation. “Clara,” he said, his apprehension returning, “what is going on?”
But she was prevented from answering him as Phoebe, her face alight, approached and linked her arm through Clara’s free one.
“I thought my joy could not be greater,” she said through a throat that sounded suspiciously thick with tears. “But this has increased my happiness tenfold.”
What the devil was going on? He looked once more to Clara, but the worry in her eyes only confused him more. The rest of her family was not a bit of help, either. Margery smiled while dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, Lenora chewed on her lip in a blatant sign of anxiety, and Lady Tesh looked as sly as a fox about to raid a chicken coop.
Just then the orchestra, which had been playing a lively cotillion, fell silent. And suddenly Peter was on the balcony, calling for everyone’s attention.
“As you know,” he said, his voice strong, silencing the few guests still talking, “we are here to celebrate the good fortune of my cousin Lady Phoebe Ashford and her intended, Lord Oswin. What you may not know is that our family has been doubly blessed, in the engagement of Lady Phoebe’s sister, Lady Clara Ashford, to my friend the Duke of Reigate.”
The room, already quiet for Peter’s announcement, went silent as a tomb. One young woman stomped her dainty slippered foot and gave a frustrated growl.
“Oh,” Quincy managed. Clara’s hand, still tucked in his, tightened.
Peter looked down at Quincy and Clara, his features fierce, belying his cheerful announcement. “And so,” he said, his displeasure palpable, “please raise your glass in toasting the happy couple. May they know years of joy.”
A glass was pressed into his hand as the room erupted in cheers. He looked down at Clara. But the worry was gone from her face, a beaming smile in its place.
“Clara?”
She looked up at him, and the breath was knocked from his body. Damnation she was beautiful. For a shining moment he believed this was real, that she was his. The yearning that reared up in him at the very idea had him nearly staggering back in shock.
“Smile,” she whispered. “You have to look happy.”
He started. Of course this was all a ploy. A necessary subterfuge. He shook off the longing that she might care for him as more than her cousin’s friend. What the devil was wrong with him?
Gifting the room with a dazzling smile, he raised his glass to Clara before downing the lot, hardly registering the light, sweet tickle of the champagne. The cheers grew louder as the orchestra started up a lively waltz. Without a word, he handed off his glass and offered Clara his arm.
“I’m assuming you have a perfectly logical explanation for this,” he said under his breath as he guided her to the floor.
“Aunt Olivia,” was all she said.
“Of course.”
Chapter 9
I take it,” he said, swinging her into a turn, blessedly distracting Clara from how lovely it felt to be held in his arms, “that your great-aunt used her considerable powers of persuasion to finally get her way?”
“Partly.” At his raised brow her cheeks heated. There was no way she would tell him it had also been a way to prove to herself she wasn’t falling for him. “And I thought it would hold more weight if our engagement went public.”
“You’re right, of course. However,” he continued, the only indication that he was annoyed being the charged tone of his voice, “perhaps next time tell me what you’re planning ahead of time? Or leave a note for me so I don’t stumble in unawares?”
“I would have,” she gritted, the sting of his censure added to the strain of the past hours finally snapping her patience, “if you had been here for me to tell.”
The floor was beginning to fill. He maneuvered them past a young couple staring at them with avid interest, sidestepped another that seemed intent on catching Quincy’s eye. “It was not by choice,” he growled through a smile that was quickly transforming into a mere baring of teeth. “Though the next time I’m in the process of learning the dukedom is entirely bankrupt I’ll keep that in mind.”
Clara nearly stumbled, her annoyance gone in an instant. It was only his steady hand that kept her on her feet. “Bankrupt? Was the news from your solicitor so dire as that?”
“I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” he muttered, regret replacing the simmering anger in his eyes, “especially now. You have your own concerns; you’ve no need to worry about mine as well.”
“As if I would let you get away with such a flimsy excuse,” she declared, and was rewarded with his strained chuckle.
But the dance floor was no place for a serious conversation. She caught sight of the garden doors over his shoulder, left ajar to let in the cool night air.Well, she thought with a mental shrug,in for a penny, in for a pound.
“Guide us to that side of the room, will you?”