He looked as if he didn’t believe her one bit. She concentrated with all her might to keep her smile in place.
Finally he nodded, though he didn’t look the least bit happy.
“Very well,” he said. “If you’re certain.”
“I am.”
He studied her for a moment more before, with a sigh, he nodded and led her from the room.“But you will be joining the rest of the party on outings for the remainder of the week,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I won’t allow her to get you off alone if I can help it.”
And for once, Clara didn’t fight it.
Chapter 15
Quincy should have been glad that Clara agreed to join the planned outing the following day. But the sight of her eyes, haunted with specters of some secret devastation, could not be forgotten.
He leaned back in his chair in the Beakhead Tea Room and watched her with a mixture of frustration and worry. To the casual eye she would appear to be utterly content, happy even. But to Quincy, who felt more attuned to her than he had to anyone since his father passed, the strain underlying it all was only too clear.
She laughed at something Miss Coralie said before turning to the girl’s older sister, Miss Felicity Gadfeld, to impart some amusing anecdote. Then she was thanking the young tearoom proprietress, Miss Peacham, for the additional pitcher of lemonade, and offering to fill her sister’s empty glass.
He was exhausted just watching her. She always kept herself busy, making sure everyone was taken care of, gently guiding conversations, making certain no one felt left out. Yet there was something different in her today, an almost manic busyness. Her laugh was grating to his ears, the dark circles under her eyes confessing to a sleepless night. It was as if she were trying with all her might to keep something at bay.
Immediately an image of his mother rose up, her eyes sharp and full of a smug glee as she’d talked to Clara the night before. Fast on the heels of that was Clara’s attempts to deflect his questions about their conversation. Whatever his mother had said, it had upset Clara immensely.
And its effect on Clara had not disappeared. Just as it had last night, rage nearly blinded him. He would not allow his mother to give Clara even a moment more of pain.
The rest of their party began to gather their things and stand, Clara with them. Without thinking he grabbed her wrist, stopping her. She cast a mildly curious look at him that did nothing to detract from the faint trembling he felt in her hand.
“Stay a moment, my dear,” he murmured.
Already the others were departing. She gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “But the rest of the party—”
“Can go on ahead while you rest a moment.”
Phoebe popped her head back in the door of the tearoom. “Are you coming, Clara? Quincy?”
Clara searched his face for a moment before letting loose a small sigh. “We’ll meet up with you shortly, dear,” she said to her sister.
Phoebe gave a happy nod and departed.
“Now,” Quincy said, gently tugging on Clara’s hand, “why don’t we talk a bit?”
The look she gave him was cautious, but she nevertheless sat as he bid her. “I don’t know what we have to talk about,” she said, not meeting his eyes, her tapered fingers taking an uneaten biscuit from the plate in the center of the table. She didn’t eat it, instead worrying it into a pile of crumbs on the pristine tablecloth.
“Last night—”
“We talked about everything worth mentioning.”
The finality of her tone had his mouth closing with a snap. He studied her with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out how to get her to open up without putting her back up. She resembled nothing so much as a small cornered kitten, ready with sharp teeth and bared claws to fight back any threat.
Not knowing what else to do, he leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “I won’t let her hurt you, Clara.”
Her gaze swung up to meet his, and for a moment he could see straight to her soul. “You can’t promise that,” she whispered.
His heart twisted. He had the mad urge to pull her into his arms and fend off every threat to her sanity and happiness, to keep her safe from all the world’s hurts and evils.
But that was not something he could do. Not only were they not betrothed in truth, but even were they set to be married he could not protect her from everything.
“I know she did something yesterday to upset you,” he said. When she opened her mouth to argue, he held up his free hand. “I’m not trying to coerce you to confide in me. But know, if you need an ear to bend, I’m more than willing.” He grinned, hoping to ease the look of pain in her eyes. “And I stay silent as a tomb when a confidence is given.”