Page 42 of A Duke Makes a Deal
“Yes, Father,” Clara said, her gaze locked on the food she could barely finish.
She wasn’t sure why she was feeling so apprehensive. Perhaps the two-day long voyage was worrying her.
“Will there be many guests?” Clara heard her mother ask. “We had hoped to have the wedding in London, your grace, but Clara suggested that it might be in poor taste since… Well…”
Her mother cleared her throat as an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. The heat from Clara’s ears spread down to her cheeks. She had made the comment that Silas wouldn’t wish to have an opulent wedding, considering it was his second marriage. She stole a glance as she took a sip from her waterglass, expecting to see an annoyed looking Silas, but his face was unreadable.
“A very selfless consideration on your daughter’s part,” Silas said, his eyes on Clara. “Her thoughtfulness is a great attribute. It’s why I’m so certain our marriage will be a successful one.”
“A marriage based on friendship is a happy marriage indeed,” her father said, raising his glass. “My Mary is my closest confidant. It is why our marriage has been a joy these past twenty-three years.”
“Heavens, Joseph,” her mother said, dipping her head as a blush stained her cheeks.
Clara smiled at her mother’s embarrassment before looking at Silas. Her smile faded upon seeing the intensity in his eyes, but then he had just reiterated that theirs was to be a marriage of friendship. While that made her far luckier than most ladies who married into the ton to husbands who didn’t seem to care for them at all, she couldn’t help but feel like she was missing something.
Later that night, after the duke had left, Clara and her mother sat up in her room, picking out the final touches for their ensembles to wear at the wedding.
Mary was gleeful as she held up a dazzling pair of ruby and pearl earbobs to her ears while she twirled around Clara’s bedroom. “I cannot believe it.”
Clara smiled at her mother’s childlike joy; her eyes crinkled with happiness.
“Have you chosen which jewels to wear then?” Clara asked, noting another pair of emerald and diamond earrings in her mother’s hands.
“Well, I’ve narrowed it down, but I’ll simply bring them all and decide the day of the wedding,” she said. She sighed and looked at her daughter. “I cannot believe that you will be married by weeks’ end.”
“Yes, it’s all very exciting I suppose,” Clara said, trying to sound cheerful.
But her mother stilled at her tone.
“Is there something wrong, my dear? Are you not happy about marrying the duke?”
“Oh no, it’s not that,” Clara said, shaking her head. “It’s just a little overwhelming.”
Mary tilted her head.
“Are you concerned about…the wedding night?” her mother asked, sounding rather hesitant.
Clara’s cheeks warmed.
“No,” she said quickly. Country living had demonstrated to her the finer points of consummation and she was sure Silas would do everything to make the experience pleasant. “I simply meant becoming a duchess.”
“Oh,” her mother replied, visibly relieved as she exhaled. “Well, I know it must be difficult managing a duke’s house, but you will fare well enough if you let the dowager duchess teach you. Besides, the duke chose you and if he thinks you’ll make a fine duchess, who are we to disagree?”
Clara gave her mother a half smile, not completely sure that she agreed with her sentiment. It was as if she was constantly trying to convince herself that her feelings for Silas weren’t genuine. Yes, she enjoyed their friendship, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore her most private imaginations about their relationship. Clara flatly ignored her growing attraction for him. It didn’t matter whether she thought how dashing he appeared when his black hair fell over his forehead, or how considerate he was, like the time he helped her avoid a series of puddles one rainy afternoon, even though her shoes were already soaked. Silas was simply a kinder man than most. Their marriage would be one of pleasant conversation and mutual consideration and Clara had to accept that.
Over the next two days, Clara rode with her parents, hardly seeing Silas until they reached Greystone. Clara had been surprised to discover that they were part of a sort of large convoy travelling to Nottinghamshire. They were being followed by the entire Trembley family, the Duke and Duchess of Egmont—family friends of Silas’s mother, the dowager duchess—as well as Holly Smyth and her younger siblings, who had been sent for by Silas at Clara’s request.
Silas had told Clara that he had written his sister and mother ahead of time to make preparations for their arrival as well as the wedding, though he had also said that he doubted his sister, Violet, would be much help. Supposedly, Violet had been very fond of Cynthia and hadn’t forgiven Silas for the dissolution of their marriage. That information had worried Clara, but only for a moment. Surely, she just needed some time to befriend her new sister-in-law.
But a singular worry in the back of Clara’s mind seemed unwilling to release her. What if she wasn’t good enough to be a duchess? What if everyone who had known Silas’s former wife would realize that she wasn’t elegant enough, or calm enough, or good enough to be the Duchess of Combe?
It was a rotten feeling, but she couldn’t shake it. Perhaps her worries would prove to be unfounded. As long as Silas was pleased with her, she shouldn’t care what others were thinking…and yet she couldn’t shake the terrible worry that she would end up embarrassing him in some way.
Clara groaned silently to herself as they rode silently in the carriage north. She did not like being so concerned with how others perceived her. Silas’s opinion had become increasingly important to her. Heaven forbid she change the way she behaved only to please him.
She bit the inside of her lip and tried to shake off her worries. Silas liked her just as she was, she reminded herself.And he wasn’t going to fall in love with her, so there would be no point in falling in love with him. He only wanted friendship and a peaceful union. Well, she could live with that. After all, friendship was far more than most received.
But Clara wondered if she would be able to curb her growing desires. She had begun fantasizing about what it would be like to touch him. What it would be like if Silas remained perfectly still, perhaps sleeping, while she moved her fingers over his face. There was something very enticing about the strong, straight line of his jaw, the plane of his nose and the fullness of his lips. She wanted to press her fingertips to his mouth and trail her thumb along the ridge of his bottom lip.
