Page 30 of A Duke Makes a Deal
When Clara didn’t answer he was sure she believed he was some kind of pitiful fool. How could a man of his size be made to feel uncomfortable in crowds? What danger did his addled mind expect to find in this pleasant public park? Her fingers squeezed against his bicep and he felt the strangest of surges go through him. It was a small reassurance, he knew, but it had surprised him.
“Is that why you’ve not attended any social events for the past year?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
She was quiet for a moment, before turning her face to his.
“Well, if you stay close to me, I’ll keep you safe.”
Silas let out a gentle huff of laughter. What a ridiculous thing to say. She was markedly shorter than him and while he did not think she was weak, the differences in their physical powers were evident. It was preposterous to think that this woman could keep him safe from anything. Surely she had to be joking. But Clara did not join him in his laughter.
His brow creased.
“You’re serious?”
“Very much so.”
“And how would you be able to keep me safe?”
“Distraction,” she said as they slowed their steps, coming to a particularly crowded section of the crushed stone path. “If you feel wary about crowds, you might focus your attention on me and in doing so, forget that there are people around.”
“And you think that would work?”
“It’s working now, isn’t it?” she asked.
Silas wasn’t able to argue with her. The misery he had felt along their ride to the park had certainly subsided far more than he ever could have expected. Maybe she was on to something.
“I suppose I should keep you near me then.”
Clara smiled at him, but seemed oblivious to his meaning.
“I wouldn’t mind,” she said. “But if I’m ever not close by and you find yourself experiencing the same feeling, remember that it will pass. Let it be.”
He scoffed.
“Easy for you to say. You’ve obviously never experienced it.”
“No,” she admitted. “But a friend of mine’s mother was a nervous sort of woman.” Silas glared down at her and she blanched. “Not that I’m calling you nervous. Or a woman.”
Clara bit her lip, obviously worried that she had offended him. Silas breathed deeply.
“This woman,” he said, ignoring her apology. “Who was she?”
Clara smiled wistfully.
“My dear friend Holly Smyth’s mother, Lady Eloise Smyth. Perhaps you knew her? She passed away about five years ago now, but I remember her quite well. She was always very kind to me.”
Silas shook his head. “I did not know her, no.”
“Oh,” Clara said, her shoulders dropping a bit. “Well, she was a fine lady. But she often suffered a certain sort of attack, as she put it. Sometimes, when it would happen, her face would become drawn and her eyes would appear distant. I am not certain what precisely triggered them, but I remember she would experience them from time to time when I visited.
“Her eyes would close and she would breathe deeply for several moments before regaining herself. When I asked if she was all right, she told me that she often experienced a terriblebout of anxiety and that she had suffered from that malady for many years.”
Silas was skeptical, but curious.
“And she just closed her eyes to dissuade it from overcoming her?” he asked, unbelieving.
“No, not exactly. When I asked if her closing her eyes helped, she told me that once when she was caring for Holly’s younger siblings, their twins, not long after their birth she had felt the beginnings of one of her bouts, but the timing was quite bad for it happening on a day when she was rather busy. Well, dreadfully busy from what she explained. The twins had been crying nonstop, the entire household staff had come down with a sickness, and she had been so tired from the demanding workload that when she felt her attack come on, she got angry.”
