Page 35 of A Devil in Silk
She froze at the words, the wind whipping back her hood and flinging strands of ebony hair across her face. “Daniel said the same words when he carried me upstairs after the accident.”
The moon hung above them, and stars glittered across the night sky like scattered embers. In the open-air chamber, it felt as though they were alone in the world, suspended between heaven and earth, caught between fantasy and reality.
And yet she was comparing him to her brother.
A dull throb settled behind his ribs.
Why did he need her to see him as something more?
“I wish I’d known about the accident,” he said, still trying to fathom why she had hidden herself away for two years, and why Daniel had said nothing, not even to his closest friends.
“I was trying to pretend it never happened.” Her voice faltered, and she looked away sharply. “How foolish of me. As if the truth were not plain for all to see.”
“What truth are you referring to? That you’ve endured pain and still burn with purpose? Is that not something to be praised, not ignored?”
She gave a shaky laugh. “You make me sound heroic when I’m simply trying to survive. Every day feels like an uphill battle.”
“I know what inadequacy feels like, Clara.” He had been born in the shadow of a better man. A perfect son.
She studied his face intently. “What could you possibly know about inadequacy? I could stare at you for hours and fail to find a single flaw.”
“My mother would disagree.”
“Mothers are often critical.”
He hesitated, the truth rising like a tide he’d long kept at bay. How could he expect honesty from her if he wasn’t willing to make concessions himself?
“No one could ever compare to Marcus,” he said at last, the name tasting of guilt and resignation. “Not in her eyes.”
“Marcus? The person Miss Nightshade mentioned?”
“The brother who died years before I was born. The brother who would have made a better viscount because he understood the importance of duty, even at the tender age of three.”
She jerked in surprise. “That cannot be true. No one is more loyal to his title than you. You’re marrying a woman you dislike just to fulfil a family obligation.”
“I’m not marrying Miss Woodall, Clara.” His tone left no room for doubt. “I tried to tell her so this morning before the inspector arrived, and I will make it plain at the first opportunity. I suspect my mother is already suspicious and is laying siege to my study, hoping to force my hand.”
Guilt stirred, but he set it aside. Disappointment did not weigh so heavily when he was with Clara Dalton.
She tilted her head, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. “Is that why you’re lingering in Westminster? To avoid going home?”
He gave a half shrug. “I promised to help you complete the tasks on your list. We’ve climbed the tower, yet you’ve not taken in the view.”
“I’m a little afraid to step near the edge.”
“In case you fall from a height greater than a horse?”
“Something like that.”
They fell silent, their eyes locking, both suddenly aware that his hand still gripped her cloak at her waist.
She gave a faint smile. “As you seem intent on making my dreams possible, I suppose I’d better shuffle closer to the edge.”
His fingers tightened. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She paused for a heartbeat. “You may be shocked to learn I have every faith in your word.”
“That’s twice you’ve flattered me tonight. One more, and I may have to call the asylum and have you committed.”
