Suddenly he caught her eye. Then, with a devilish twinkle, he caught the shuttlecock with his racquet and sent it flying purposely her way.
Time seemed to freeze. She stared at the oncoming cork-and-feather creation as if it were a rabid animal about to attack and tear out her throat. What if she missed? What if she fell? Every horrifying possibility flashed through her mind in the split second it took for the shuttlecock to reach her. Closing her eyes tight, she pulled the battledore back with both hands and let it swing.
A resounding thwack sounded, the feel of the cork hitting the strings reverberating up her arms. A cheer went up. She opened her eyes to see the shuttlecock sail in an impressive arc before it fell at the feet of a gaping Mr. Tunley.
“Well done, Lady Clara,” he called out.
And then Quincy was there, his face beaming with pride. And she was caught up in his arms in a celebratory embrace. And she wished the moment might never end.
***
Later that evening Clara was still basking in the happy glow the afternoon had given her. Truly, she could not remember a time she had so enjoyed herself.
She smiled, taking a sip of her wine, letting her gaze linger on Quincy where he stood across Danesford’s vast drawing room. And he had been the center of it all. She felt as if she were a different person when she was with him, someone who was more than just a caretaker or a spinster. Not that her family had ever indicated they ever saw her that way. No, she had been the one to don those cloaks.
Now, however…Quincy looked at her then, and a shiver ran through her body. No, nothowever, she told herself sternly as her thoughts veered to a possibility of something more with him. No matter what her heart might want, this was temporary. Her future did not include Quincy. Nor any man.
He murmured something to Peter, then made his way toward her. She smiled as he approached, her determination to remember that this was not permanent flying right out of her head.
“I do hate to sayI told you so,” he quipped as he sank down onto the settee beside her. “But not so much that I won’t.”
She quirked one eyebrow at him, trying and failing to rein in the happiness that surged at his nearness. “You really needn’t look so smug,” she said. “It isn’t becoming at all.”
“Oh, I sincerely doubt that,” he said with a grin. “I think it looks quite well on me.”
“No one ever accused you of modesty, I’m guessing,” she drawled.
He let loose a laugh. “But you have to admit, I was right when I told you that things would not fall apart if you were to take an afternoon off.”
“Very well,” she conceded, rolling her eyes. “I’ll admit that one afternoon did no harm in the wedding preparations.”
“And you enjoyed yourself,” he pushed, a teasing gleam in his dark eyes.
She could continue to tease him, she supposed. But her heart was so full of happiness, she could say nothing but the truth. “I did.” She smiled. “Thank you, Quincy.”
Something infinitely tender passed through his eyes. “It was my pleasure,” he murmured.
Her cheeks heated under the regard in his gaze, unable to remember a time when she had been so happy.
“You seem inordinately pleased with yourself, Lady Clara.”
The Duchess of Reigate’s voice, sharp and accusatory, was like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. Clara’s spine snapped straight, her smile falling away, the spark lit from that afternoon blowing out as quickly as a candle in a hurricane.
Quincy, too, seemed deeply affected by his mother’s presence. Gone was the easy, happy gentleman, and in his place was a stern, forbidding man.
“Mother,” he said. “You’ve decided to finally join the rest of us, have you?”
She shrugged, somehow making the common action elegant, and sank down into the seat facing them. “No one can blame me for resting, surely.”
“No doubt. Especially after such a lengthy journey. And at your advanced age.”
Her eyes narrowed. Clara, watching the exchange with wide eyes, decided it was time to step in.
“I do hope you like your rooms, Your Grace. Lenora wanted you to have the very best accommodations. The gold bedroom has the most striking views of any room at Danesford.”
“They are adequate,” was all she said.
While Clara was still reeling from her rudeness, the duchess spoke again.