“Pardon me,” she managed, “I had quite forgotten a trip I took to visit my old nurse some fifteen or so years back. You can understand, surely, it being so long ago.”
“Oh, certainly. And where was it you went?”
She froze. There was too much knowledge in the woman’s gaze for Clara to ignore. In desperation, she searched her mind for something, anything to say. But in her horror she came up blank.
The duchess’s smile widened further.
Blessedly Yargood announced dinner, interrupting their standoff. Her salvation.
Quincy was at her side in an instant. “Clara,” he murmured, holding out a hand for her, “are you ready?”
“Yes,” she managed. Taking his hand, she allowed him to pull her to her feet, thankful for his arm to lean on when her legs trembled.
“We can finish this conversation later, Lady Clara,” the duchess murmured.
“Your Grace,” Clara said, dipping into a shaky curtsy, not meeting the woman’s eyes.
Quincy led her out the drawing room door, leaning toward her when they were out of earshot of the rest of the party.
“What did she say to you, Clara?”
His voice was vibrating with tension. “Nothing,” she said, trying for a calm she didn’t feel.
“Clara.”
“Truly, it was nothing at all.”
Without warning, he ducked into a small room off the side of the hall, pulling Clara with him. Darkness shrouded them, the sounds of the rest of the party fading.
“Quincy,” she gasped, “someone will notice.”
“I don’t give a damn,” he shot back.
She gaped at him. Even the deep shadows weren’t enough to hide the frustration on his face.
Her heart twisted, that he worried so for her. She stepped close, laying a hand on his cheek. “I’m well. Please don’t give it another thought.”
“She upset you, Clara. I can’t let that go.”
“You have to.”
He growled low. “No.”
She smiled. “Stubborn man.”
His lips twitched, his voice turning gruff when he spoke again. “Stubborn woman.” Then his expression resumed its serious mien. “Tell me, Clara. What did she say that upset you?”
In that moment, in the dark, with this man she was growing to love, she wanted to. With everything in her she wanted to tell him of that great tragedy, and the weight on her soul that would never leave her in peace. How easy it would be to speak the words, to transfer some of that burden, to have someone she could lean on and share it with.
But she couldn’t. He would look at her differently, and she couldn’t bear the thought of that. He would pity her, or think her ruined, or a hundred other horrible possibilities.
She put her mask firmly back in place, though it was more difficult to do now than it had ever been.
“Truly it was nothing,” she said with a smile though she wanted to cry. “She merely asked if I’ve lived on Synne all my life.”
“Clara—”
“Truly.”