She needed to be alone and think, to prepare herself. By now James must have reached the main road north and she would have time until September to invent a strategy for her behaviour towards him once they met again in London.
There was something else. Why had he left so abruptly? Had Dominic actually forced him to marry her? Did her powerful older brother have some hold on James?
She pushed the door open and froze.
There he stood.
James.
He was not on the main road north.
But he was wearing his travelling attire.
He held his hat, his gloves and his walking stick in one hand, the other one rested on the backrest of an armchair.
His face was marble. Unmoved. Beautiful. A god. A hero.
"Ah, there you are, Clara. I believe your brother has informed you of our arrangement?" His voice was level, cool.
"Yes", Clara tried to let her own voice assume the same quality but she did it poorly. What she produced was rather a croaking noise.
"It might come to you as a surprise. It did, at first, to me, as well. But when your brother suggested that you and I should marry, I soon saw the practicability of this. I'm not getting any younger and the Darlington fortune and estate need to be continued. You have been born to one of England's best families and you are a sister to my oldest friend, so you are fit to be a Countess of Darlington. And even though I may sometimes have reprimanded you for your behaviour, it was out of a caring consideration for you, which is, I believe, quite a good basis for matrimony. I'm sure you will agree."
Clara nodded, still trying to at least breathe evenly.
"I shall leave for London today to inform my family of this settlement and I will have to make some changes to my lodgings, both in London and in Crawford Manor to be able to house you as is your due." He paused. "But, if for some reason you think that this marriage would not suit you, now is the moment to speak and none of these measures need to be taken."
What did he mean? That she should call it off? So he can marry somebody else? She almost wanted to scream at him saying "James, I love you, but I'm so scared! What am I to do? You know everything so you must tell me!"
But he was so rational and so aloof! She could not tell him how she really felt without embarrassing him terribly.
"I will do as my brother bids me."
"Good. I knew you'd be reasonable. I bid you adieu, Clara."
"Adieu, James."
He bowed to her and she curtsied. Then he was gone.
She ran into her bedroom and threw herself onto her bed. But there were no colourful daydreams to be found. And they would never come again.
She was convinced he did not care for her at all. It was all smooth and well-reasoned. As always.
Twelve
Outside of Clara's Chambers
James Crawford, The Earl of Darlington, was fighting the desperate urge to turn around, walk back in, take her in his arms, kiss her pouting lips and tell her how much he loved her, how long he had endured this torture of wanting her, ever since she had started to grow into that wild and breathtakingly beautiful young woman he had just been talking to. How many nights had he sought relief with other women, trying to get the girl with the liquid cornflower eyes and the tangling mane of gold out of his mind? How much money had he spent in brothels on forgetting his best friend's way too young sister? Four years of feverishly trying to expel her from his thoughts had ended in what? — marrying her?
She was not too young anymore, but she was still so innocent and vulnerable at heart, always with her head in the clouds. She was a whirlwind sometimes but a whirlwind in a corn field on a clear blue day. What was she to do with a rotten creature like himself?
From a dynastic point of view it made all the sense in the world to marry her, his mother would be delighted. But from a human prospective it was a disaster.
Why on earth had he said that he would marry her? Why had Dominic pushed him there? He should have known better, being one of the few who knew what lay beyond the stern and noble facade of the Earl of Darlington.
Too late now. He would marry her but he would keep himself in check, be considerate and wise. Above all, he would keep her well protected from that other life of his.
Thirteen
Palazzo Sforza, midnight
"Ha! As if I cared! I don't care one bit! Not at all! Not for him, or for anybody! I will take the veil. Be a nun. I'll make a vow of poverty and silence. No, only poverty. Silence won't do for me. I'll be a babbling nun, saying all the things I want without disturbing anybody. I'll be sitting in a cell high up in the mountains, looking out across the world with nobody trying to marry me off to some lord or other. What a blessing that would be. I'd not stay in England, nononono, I would have to go somewhere with plenty of red wine. I find it a most delicious beverage and I shall have another glass of it right now.