Page 29 of A Duke Makes a Deal
“I was wondering if you were attending the races next week?” she asked, evidently repeating herself. “Mr. Woodvine and I have never actually been and we had planned on going, until, well…”
Mrs. Woodvine glanced at her daughter and Silas saw Clara flush with displeasure.
“She means, until I caused a scene and made our family the target of gossip,” Clara said honestly.
“That’s not what I meant, dear,” her mother said.
“It’s quite all right, Mother. His grace happens to be on our side.” Her eyes flickered to Silas’s face. “Aren’t you?”
“I am,” he said, his tone deep and honest, before turning to face Mrs. Woodvine. “I actually don’t believe a word of what was written about Miss Woodvine.”
The older woman sighed with relief.
“Well, that is good to hear,” she said, her shoulders dropping a fraction as she watched her daughter. “I don’t know why they wrote those lies. Clara did speak somewhat loudly, but she certainly didn’t scream and no one fainted.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Clara said, slightly embarrassed.
The corner of Silas’s mouth turned up at her discomfort. Evidently, she wasn’t quite as calm and collected as she appeared.
Turning to peer back out the window, Silas’s good humor vanished as the carriage came to a stop. The door was opened by the footman. When Silas didn’t move to exit, he felt the Woodvines’ eyes on him.
“Silas?” Clara whispered, low enough that her mother couldn’t hear, but it seemed to echo in his ears.
He watched her steadfast eyes and he felt the erratic speed of his heartbeat begin to slow. Clearing his throat, he shook his head and climbed out of the carriage. He did not turn around, though he was sure a number of people were watching him as he waited, first to help Mrs. Woodvine out of the carriage and then to help Clara. When they were all out, he took a deep breath and offered his arm to Clara. She slowly slid her gloved hand into the crook of his arm and they turned to follow the wide stretch of path that led into the overcrowded park.
Silas felt his mouth dry as he kept his eyes on the tree line. His legs felt stiff and jell-like at the same time, and he knew that in a matter of moments, he would be awash with the terror that gripped him every time he came out in public. Only this time, as he felt the panic rising, the small, warm grip of Clara’s hand held onto him, tethering him.
“Are you all right?” she whispered, leaning ever so slightly towards him as they walked.
“Yes,” he lied gruffly.
“Are you quite sure? You seem unwell.”
Unwell was an understatement. He felt as if a stone was pressed against his chest, making it hard to breathe.
“I’m fine.”
“It would be all right if you were unwell,” she continued and his panic began to give way to irritation. “I would understand if you wished to turn back.”
“We’re not turning back,” he bit out in a harsh whisper.
Hopefully his tone had scared her off from asking any more—
“I wonder if you are coming down with something then?” she continued. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and noticed that she was facing straight ahead. His eyes darted around them and he realized that nearly everyone they passed was staring at them, all while Clara prattled off about illness.
Was she worried about him? Surely not and yet her voice seemed so concerned. He found himself wondering if he could tell her about his damned anxiety. Would she be understanding? Or would she politely smile and nod at his confession, while plotting a way to escape their arrangement?
He turned his head and attempted to listen as she chattered about this and that. To his surprise, his own anxiety seemed to dim as he recognized the tension in her voice. He gently squeezed his arm around her hand.
“You’re nervous,” he said lowly as he bent down to her ear.
Clara turned to face him, her bright clear eyes catching his as he felt a drop in his stomach. What was the matter with him?
“If I admit I am, will you tell me what’s wrong?”
He didn’t wish to tell her, but then something in her steady gaze gave him confidence. He exhaled slowly as they walked.
“I have an issue, being out in crowds like this,” he said so quietly he doubted she could hear him over the conversations around them. He bit his tongue before continuing, suddenly bitter at his own weaknesses. “It makes me uncomfortable.”
