She latched onto his suggestion; that’s what she needed now, to surround herself with people, where it would be easier to don her calm mask again. Where she could pretend, at least for a few hours, that she hadn’t forgotten everything she had worked toward since that youthful indiscretion that had cost her everything. “Yes, let’s,” she said with a false brightness that sounded brittle even to her own ears. Wincing, she pushed past him and marched from the alcove, walking as quickly as she was able to back to the house.
A bit of normalcy was needed. He could not see how he had affected her. Which shouldn’t be difficult to accomplish, considering her particular talent for acting as if nothing was amiss. “Goodness, that was close,” she said in a cheerful tone, as if they had just experienced some small mishap.
His steps, which sounded behind her, faltered for a moment before starting up again. “Yes, it was.”
“I do hope my family hasn’t missed us. Of course, now that our engagement has been announced it will be expected that you dance with Phoebe. As a show of solidarity with the family. I do hope her dance card is not yet filled. She has always been popular, but tonight she is more so.” She gave a small laugh as she hurried up the steps to the balcony. “Though that should not be a surprise, seeing as it is her engagement ball.”
Quincy grabbed her hand, stopping her. “Clara,” he said, his voice achingly gentle.
She turned to face him, keeping her eyes on his cravat. The small emerald nestled in its snowy depths winked in the light from the chandeliers that spilled across the stone balcony, and she focused on it with all her remaining willpower.
His thumb, moving in comforting circles over her knuckles, firmly dismantled what little pride she had left. Exhaustion filled her. She had remained strong for so long, pretending everything was well. Strange, then, that this gentle, caring gesture should be the thing that finally tore free the mask of a decade and a half.
But no, it was more than just this tenderness that had done it. She had been destroyed the moment his lips had touched hers. Forgotten were those reasons she had denied her passionate heart in the first place—all the kisses she had welcomed, the caresses that had made her body come alive, only to leave betrayal and heartache and loss in their wake.
Had she been fooling herself all this time? She’d thought she’d become strong over the years, that she could withstand any temptation. But one kiss from Quincy and she was lost.
“Clara,” he said again, “I’m sorry—”
She closed her eyes. “Don’t,” she managed, all bravado gone. She had been a fool to think she could escape the embarrassment of such a scene. “Canwe please not talk about it?”
A horrible silence. And then, “Very well.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
“For now,” he said when she would have turned away, his hold tightening on her hand, keeping her in place.
She finally met his eyes, frustration at his stubbornness beginning to rear its head. “For now?” she repeated, incredulous.
He shrugged. “I won’t pretend it didn’t happen, Clara.”
“Why?” The word came out as an agonized cry that startled her for its intensity. Flushing, she looked around the balcony. It was not empty now, a few couples having abandoned the revelry within for a moment’s respite. Yet even across the stone flags Clara could see their surreptitious glances, their interest palpable.
She stepped closer to Quincy to better keep their conversation quiet. A mistake. His cologne washed over her once more, and she was overcome by memories of being in his arms, of his mouth on hers.
She shook her head, forcibly dispelling the potent reminder, and glared at him. “It was a mistake. Why can’t we just forget it?”
“Because I don’t wish to.”
Clara sucked in a breath at that simple, devastating statement. He met her gaze unflinchingly, his dark eyes glittering.
Before she could demand that he explain himself, he added, “We should get back to the ball. I had other plans for later this evening, but now…Anyway, we’d best see about securing your sister’s hand for a set.”
The change in subject was so swift it took Clara some seconds to understand that, at least for the moment, they were done discussing their kiss. She would have to be content with that.
Schooling her features into politeness, she meant to nod and head for the ballroom with all haste. Anything to escape from the disturbing intimacy of the balcony.
But her mouth had other ideas. “Where had you planned to go off to?”
The question hung in the air, stalling their reentrance into the crowded ballroom. Proof that, though she knew better, she was not quite ready to relinquish him to the mass of people within.
Thankfully he saw nothing odd in it. “There’s a memento of my father’s I had wanted—no, needed—to fetch from my mother’s house. Though now that I won’t require use of it, I suppose there’s little sense in it.” He let loose a bitter laugh.
Clara, disturbed by the sudden hopelessness that seemed to come over him, drew even closer to him despite knowing better. Much better. “What is it you wanted to retrieve?”
He shifted his gaze back to her. And she was struck mute by the quiet despair there.
“My father’s map book. I was forced to leave it behind when I left England as a boy. I’d hoped to retrieve it before beginning my travels. But as it seems I’ll be remaining in England for a good long while it’s silly to go hying off in the middle of what is essentially our engagement ball to get it.”