He let loose a frustrated breath, hopelessness washing over him. Phoebe’s wedding was less than a week away. Scaling the years of hurt and pain and grief that rose up about Clara would take time. And time was one thing he didn’t have.
But lying here thinking of her would not help one bit. Rolling from the bed, he strode to the adjoining dressing room. He longed to bare his heart to her as she hadn’t allowed him to last night, but he knew in his state of mind he would only muck things up further. And so he dressed quickly, hurried out to the stables, and was soon on his way.
The fresh air was a balm to his soul as he let his horse have its head. The faint scent of salt and sea filled his lungs, the coolness of it on his face and the tug of it in his hair helping to clear some of the turmoil in his breast. He would take the morning to think. And, with luck, he would return to Danesford knowing just what to do in regard to Clara. Though he doubted it would be so easy.
The small town that butted up against the beach, the center of all social activities for residents and visitors alike, was just waking as he rode down the main thoroughfare. The grocers were opening their shutters, the baker already hard at work, the scent of it making Quincy’s mouth water. On impulse he stopped, dismounting and tying up his horse before heading inside.
His purchase was quickly made, and soon he was stepping back out into the bright early-morning sunlight. Removing a warm bun from its wrapper, he bit into the soft, fragrant bread before starting off down Admiralty Row. Synne’s main avenue, leading down to the beach and the endless sea beyond, was wide and clean, and already beginning to bustle. The Isle was at its height of popularity in the summer months, and its season was just beginning. No doubt in a week or so these streets would be teeming with humanity. It was just the type of location he gravitated toward, a bustling town that never seemed to sleep. It was why he’d been more than happy to settle in Boston all those years.
But for the first time in perhaps his entire life Quincy didn’t want company. Which might be a dangerous thing, for it gave him too much time to think. The more he pondered what to do about Clara, the more mired in doubts and frustrations and fears he became. He knew she cared for him. She would not have lain with him last night if she didn’t. But she was so adamant that there could be nothing more between them. Even the idea that he might declare himself to her had sent her into a panic. As it stood, he could not see a way past that, did not know how to breech the walls she had put up about her.
So caught up in his tumultuous thoughts, he didn’t immediately hear his name being called. It was only when the person doing the calling stepped in his path that he was aware of anyone around him at all.
“Your Grace,” the man said. “I say, you’re in your own world, aren’t you?”
Quincy blinked, looking into not one but two familiar faces. “Mr. Dennison, Lord Fletcher. My apologies. I’m afraid you’ve caught me eating my breakfast. I was quite entranced by the deliciousness of these rolls.”
“I don’t blame you one bit,” the house agent replied. “Mrs. Lambe is a wizard with flour and yeast. As I can attest to.” He chuckled, patting his generous girth.
Quincy forced a smile, wanting nothing less than to be pulled into small talk. But he couldn’t very well snub the men. “What were you gentlemen doing up and about at such an early hour?”
Lord Fletcher, exuding his typical energetic air, spoke up. “We were discussing when we might visit Swallowhill. I’m quite anxious to finalize the sale.” He chuckled. “Although this proof of my eagerness can only work to my detriment. There’s no way I shall haggle a good price now.” He faltered, a concerned look passing over his face. “Are you well, Your Grace?”
“What? Oh! Yes, I’m quite well.” Quincy forced a smile. “I didn’t sleep last night, I’m afraid.”
“Strange, that, with such healthful sea air to lull you to sleep,” the man quipped. “But were you off to anywhere in particular this fine morning?”
“Not at all.”
“Splendid. I don’t suppose you have time for us after your meal?I’d love to see Swallowhill as soon as possible.”
It was on the tip of Quincy’s tongue to refuse. He had no wish to accompany these men today to visit the property. He hadn’t set foot there since his mother’s cruel confirmation of what Miss Willa Brandon had been to his father. The idea of going there now, when his heart was so troubled over Clara, and knowing he would see the place with new eyes, made his skin crawl.
But mayhap it was for the best. After last night, and the decision he was waiting for Clara to make regarding their future, he was more determined than ever to move forward with the sale. If she accepted him, he was eager to whisk her off and show her the world. And if she refused, he wanted to leave England as quickly as possible.
In the end he nodded. “Nothing would please me better. But why don’t we head over now, and you can both share my breakfast with me?”
And perhaps, he thought as Lord Fletcher and Mr. Dennison took the rolls he offered with heartfelt thanks and they headed back up the street in search of their mounts, he might know how to persuade Clara by the time he returned to Danesford.
***
As Quincy had predicted, all the wedding preparations that Clara had agonized over had been taken care of beautifully by Lenora and Margery and Mrs. Ingram. Every hem was altered, every delicacy planned, every flower and ribbon and ingredient for the decadent food delivered. The house had been cleaned top-to-bottom, the guest rooms aired and readied for their myriad guests. There truly wasn’t much for Clara to do. She should have, perhaps, been concerned at this proof that she was superfluous. Wasn’t that her great fear, after all, that she had no place any longer? That her family didn’t need her?
But she was too busy trying to hide the turmoil inside her.
She had known, of course, that the aftermath of following her heart would be painful, that it would take an incredible amount of mental and emotional effort to fall back into her old ways.
She had not expected it to affect her physically, making her entire body ache and her head pound. How the faint soreness in her thighs would remind her of what she and Quincy had shared. Exhaustion pulled at her, and she wanted nothing more than to be left in peace, to climb back under her covers and hide away from the world.
To remember every beautiful moment with Quincy.
That was something, however, she could not indulge. She had known what she was about last night, and that today would be difficult. It was why she had stayed curled in his arms as long as possible, why she had feigned sleep when all along she had been memorizing the steady pounding of his heart against her ear, each beat one second closer to leaving him. Now, however, it was time she accepted that whatever they’d had was over.
But that didn’t make focusing on the necessary duties of the day any easier. Especially as the guests were now arriving in droves, carriages pulling up Danesford’s long drive by the hour. This was the more tedious portion of the wedding, that of helping Lenora play hostess. It should have been a blessing that she was able to make herself useful again. But there was nothing Clara wanted to do less than smile and see to everyone’s comfort.
She sighed, stretching her neck from side to side to relieve the stiffness in her muscles as she saw some distant relation of Lady Crabtree’s off with the butler. She looked out over the front hall, making certain there was no one left wanting attention. And perhaps, secretly looking for Quincy…
No. She shook her head sharply, forcing her focus on Lenora and Phoebe by the front door, greeting an ancient matron with a towering bright green turban. She had promised herself she would not look for him. Peter had informed her earlier after receiving a letter by messenger that Quincy had gone to Swallowhill with Mr. Dennison and Lord Fletcher. It was a relief he was gone, really. After last night she had no wish to see him, to look into his eyes and recognize the awareness that would no doubt light their depths.