His brows now met in the middle. “I will check on your movements until you are married. And what friend did you visit at such an early hour?”
“My favorite one,” Claire snapped, stepping around him, thus, to her mind, ending the conversation. “Mother, I’m a bit weary today, so I thought to have a nap before this evening. Will you please excuse me from any activities you may have planned?”
Where Mathew looked like their father, Claire and Anthony had taken after their mother. Her strawberry blonde curls had now turned grey, and her hazel eyes were shadowed with the grief she still carried from losing her husband and youngest son. Yet Lady Eliza Belmont was as lively as she had always been.
“Of course, darling. You must look your best this evening. I have great hopes for you this season, especially as we now have a wonderful crop of noblemen in town.”
“I have just been likened to a field of wheat,” Her brother said.
Claire felt the silly urge to giggle at his disgusted expression, so she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep herself from talking further. She was tired enough that it would not take much to set her off, and she had no intentions of falling into a fit of hysteria in front of Mathew.
“Well, she has already turned down three proposals, so let us hope for someone to fill her exacting standards this season.”
“Would you have me wed to a man I did not respect, Mathew?”
“No, Claire, that was never my wish for you.” Mathew said solemnly.
“I’m sure I will find the perfect man soon and you shall be rid of me,” Claire added and then forced out a laugh so her family knew she was merely making light of the matter, when in fact the topic was a painful one for her. She had nearly reached the door before Mathew’s voice stopped her.
“Are you well, Claire?
“Of course I’m well, Mathew. Why would you think otherwise?” Claire kept her tone light as she reached out to grab the door handle to steady herself. He saw too much and she did not want him to know about the note, so she kept her eyes on the panel of wood before her.
“It is not like you to take to your bed in the middle of the day, sister.”
“I have a slight headache, Mathew, nothing further. A short nap will put me to rights.”
Before he could say anything further, she left the parlor, closing the door softly behind her.
Her room overlooked the gardens, but as the curtains were drawn when she entered, she saw only the muted shadows of furniture. Shutting the door behind her, Claire felt the pain in her head start to ease. It had begun to throb after her encounter with Lord Kelkirk. Lord, how was she to face him tonight? Not now, Claire. Right now, she needed to rest, as she would need all her wits about her when next they met. Her maid arrived and she was soon down to her chemise. Picking up the glass holding the tisane that Plimley had prepared, off the bedside table, she swallowed the vile liquid with a shudder and then slid between the sheets.
What had Anthony left behind in France? Would she receive another note soon? How was she to avoid Lord Kelkirk? Staring into the darkness, Claire let the thoughts tumble around inside her head until finally she felt the bliss of sleep settle over her. With another tired sigh, she turned on her side and was soon slumbering.
…
When the Belmonts arrived at the Harrison ball, the rooms were already filled with guests. Smothering a yawn, Claire tried to shake the fog from her head. The sleeping tisane had given her sleep but also horrid, heated dreams in which she was clad in only her undergarments and Lord Kelkirk stood there laughing at her. She was feeling listless and dull-witted, which was never a good sign when she was stepping into the bosom of some of the ton’s more voracious gossips.
“Come along, Claire. You’re wool-gathering.” Mathew held out his arm to his sister and she gladly took it, feeling better, now she was anchored to something solid.
The season was well advanced, and of course Lady Harrison had invited everyone and everyone had accepted, as there had been whispers that the king himself would arrive. Claire knew this was a ploy quite a few of the hostesses used to ensure their gatherings were successful.
“Quite a crush,” Lady Belmont said, smiling. Claire’s mother, unlike Claire, loved a crush.
“God help us all.”
“I thought you enjoyed these things, Mathew.” Claire looked up at her brother as he spoke. He was handsome in his black jacket and grey and burgundy striped waistcoat.
“Being jostled, spilling beverages on myself as people pass, dancing with silly, empty-headed debutants. Of course I love it, sister.”
Claire looked forward as they walked deeper into the room and then back at her brother. “If that is indeed the case, Mathew, then you hide it very well.” Obviously, she was not the only Belmont sibling with acting talent.