“It doesn’t matter what I think. It matters what all the farmers, brewers, and tavernkeepers think.”
“Until a few centuries ago, all brewing was women’s work. Even today, any sizeable estate brews its own small beer. It’s where we get yeast for the bread.”
“There’s a difference between making small beer for the servants’ hall and brewing ale for distribution.”
“I know there is. This is why I wanted you to sign the dissolution papers. If we’re to start brewing next year, we need to start building now. That means I need my dowry unencumbered, and the sooner the better. The architect won’t begin the drawings without payment.”
“Listen, if you’ve set your heart on opening a brewery on this property, all the more reason to marry Piers. His men of business could oversee everything.”
“I’m not marrying Piers. And I can hire my own men of business. Can’t you see? I want something that’s mine. A challenge.”
“When you marry Piers, you’ll have the title of marchioness. A house in London and a vast estate to manage. He’ll have diplomatic duties. There will be children. If that’s not enough, there are any number of worthy charitable ventures to which you could lend your time and your name. You won’t lack for challenges.”
“But this is different.”
“How so?”
She gestured with frustration. “This is a challenge where I have some chance to succeed.”
“What? That’s absurd. You’ll make the perfect Lady Granville.”
There it was. That bold, ridiculous word again.
Perfect.
“I mean what I’m saying.” He put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “Look at me.”
She looked at him. It wasn’t easy. He was so close and so large. She had to tip her head back, exposing the vulnerable length of her throat to the cool, damp air. Her pulse beat like an indecisive rabbit’s.
“I know it’s been a long wait,” he said. “I know there’s gossip.”
“Those are under—”
“Understatements. I know that, too.”
There he went again, finishing her sentences. Oh, he was in fighting form now. But this time, Clio wouldn’t back down. There was more to her than he believed. More than anyone suspected.
“Most of all,” he said, “I know what it’s like to be the dark horse. To have everyone betting against you, counting you out. And I know the vindication you’ll feel when you finally win. When you walk down the aisle in your big flouncy gown, on the arm of one of England’s great men, and all those gossips’ wagging tongues turn to ash. Believe me . . .” His big hands squeezed her shoulders. “Triumph is sweet. It’s so damned sweet.”
His green eyes were nearly black, and his voice was so earnest. And a deep, lonely part of her wanted to believe him.
“This was a mistake,” she said, backing away. “I don’t know why I try to explain anything to you.”
“I know. I’m a stupid, uneducated brute. Next time, speak slowly and use smaller words.”
“That’s not what I meant. You are far too clever, and I’ve always known it. I just wish you’d give me the same credit.”
“Me? I don’t think you’re stupid.”
“You must. You think a pretty gown and a big party will be enough to change my mind about something so important as marriage. How can that not be insulting to my intelligence?”
“Now, Clio . . .”
“Don’t ‘Now, Clio’ me.” She turned and started up the winding steps. Thanks to the downpour, she couldn’t flounce and leave the tower. This was the next best thing. “Maybe I am a fool. You arrived unannounced, with all your lists.”
He mounted the stairs behind her. “There was only one list.”
“ . . . and your ridiculous ‘esquire’ of a friend . . .”
“I can explain him.”
“ . . . and your dog . . .”
“He’s not my dog.”
“ . . . and I was fool enough to let you stay. I welcomed you into my home because I hoped you’d see that Twill Castle is just that. My home. But you’re so stubborn.” She trod hard on the steps as she spiraled toward the top. “You’re just like Piers, caring only for your career and nothing for me. I wish I’d shown you the door.”
As she took the next step, her ankle twisted. Her slipper skidded on the damp stone.
Rafe’s hand shot out to steady her.
“I have you.” He flexed his arm, pulling her flush with his chest. “I have you.”
Clio clutched his shirtfront. She would have caught herself, even without his help. But for this one fleeting moment, she would let him play the hero.