Page 20 of One Wicked Secret
Even if that meant disobeying her husband’s instructions.
Clara faced her and wiggled her unmarred eyebrow. “Tell him, Elsa. We don’t need the viscount’s help. I fear he’ll be more of a hindrance.”
Daniel’s mocking chuckle said he disagreed. “Ahindrance? Rutland is the most logical man I know. I don’t see the problem. You were always on friendly terms when he visited Thorncroft.”
Clara hung her head. “That was a lifetime ago.”
If Elsa made wagers, she would bet Lord Rutland was a handsome man without a single flaw. A young woman without the proper pedigree would feel lacking in his presence, let alone one with a facial disfigurement.
“I’m sure the viscount will be glad to see you.” Elsa prayed Clara didn’t retreat into her shell. It would be easy to help her hide from harsh realities, but Clara was better when she embraced her confidence. “When you smile, Clara, you light up the world.”
Realising the cause of his sister’s reticence, Daniel said, “You seem happier than you have in a long time. Our friends will welcome this change in you, too. Rutland often asks why I don’t bring you to town.”
Clara gasped. “You told the viscount about my accident?”
“Of course not. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
Clara’s sigh of relief fogged the window. “I’m not ready to face the world. It’s why I stayed at home tonight when I would have loved waltzing at a ball.”
“Did you bring your assortment of eye patches?” Elsa asked, touching Clara’s forearm. “The green feathered one would match your travelling cloak perfectly.”
With a gentle smile, Clara drew the patch from her reticule. “I am never without one now. They act as a crutch in social situations.”
“Do you remember the countess’ motto?”
Clara nodded. “Confidence isn’t about being perfect; it’s about shining through your imperfections.”
“Precisely. You must repeat it to yourself wheneveryou’re overcome with self-doubt.” Satisfied, Elsa relaxed back in the seat, only to find Daniel watching her with quiet pride and a tenderness she had once clung to as if it were her lifeline.
Heat infused her body as it did long ago.
His dark brown eyes dipped to her mouth. “Seeing you and Clara together eases the guilt I’ve felt these last six months.”
“We’ve been a great support to each other.” Her relationship with Clara was a gift—a light in dark times. “Our friendship has never been stronger.”
Unlike the bonds of their marriage, which were held together by fraying threads. One more lie and the bindings would snap.
“I can see that,” he said with a tinge of sorrow.
“Things have changed during our estrangement.”
“Some things. Not everything.”
There was no time to ask what he meant because the carriage stopped outside a grand townhouse in Bruton Street. Its white stucco facade gleamed beneath the gas lamps. The black lacquered door and lion-head knocker were a silent testament to the owner’s wealth and gentility.
The glow of candlelight in a downstairs window drew a sigh of relief from Daniel. “It appears Rutland is at home. Raise the hoods on your cloaks. Just as a precaution.”
They did as he asked, with Clara wearing her pretty green eye patch and shrinking into the depths of her oversized shroud.
Lord Rutland’s butler had retired for the night and was flattening fine wisps of grey hair over his pate when he eventually opened the front door.
“Mr Dalton. Good evening.”
“Good evening, Hockton. I believe his lordship is at home.”
The butler shifted uncomfortably. “The hour is late, sir, too late for visitors. His lordship was quite insistent.”
On cue, a faint feminine giggle reached their ears.
