Page 20 of A Christmas Miracle for the Frosty Marquess
Each round they played, each card they exchanged, seemed to build an easy alliance between them. They whispered strategies, shared sly glances when they bluffed, and, it seemed, enjoyed each other’s company.
At one point, Clara laid down a card triumphantly.
“Speculation,” she announced, winning them the round. The room erupted in applause, but Julian was scarcely aware of the others. All he saw was Clara, her cheeks flushed with excitement, her eyes shining with the thrill of the game.
Before him was the girl with whom he had once been friends, the young lady he once believed he had a crush on. Before him was the most beautiful woman in the room, and his heart skipped as his mind formed the thought. She truly was beautiful, he realized. And she made it difficult to remain brooding and detached. Julian found his earlier reservations melting away. The game, in all its frivolity, had unveiled a side of Clara he hadn’t seen before. He realized that perhaps Thomas had been right. Perhaps, there was something in their friendship that could pave the way for happiness in their future.
When round after round concluded and they were routinely named the champions, Clara turned to Julian, her eyes twinkling.
“It seems we make quite the team, Julian,” she said.
Julian, his heart light, replied.
“Indeed, Clara,” he said. “It appears that in the game of ‘Speculation,’, we are perfectly suited.”
Clara giggled again at the pun he delivered. He hadn’t even consciously made a joke. But when he realized he had, he gave her a crooked grin. He studied the cards in his hand, though his thoughts were suddenly elsewhere. The soft cadence of Clara’s laughter, so melodious and heartening, seemed to fill every cranny of Thornmire Manor with a warmth that Julian had not felt in years. Each peal of her mirth brought forth memories that lay dormant in the recesses of his mind, memories of his mother.
The drawing room, with its grandeur and timeless elegance, had once echoed with the warm laughter of Eleanor Hawthorne. The room was the same in appearance, but the warmth had been stolen the day she died. Yet here he was, the ghosts of the time before his mother’s death awakened by the very woman he had been forced to accept into his life. Clara laid a card onto the table, her fingers grazing the worn edges with the softest touch, much like the way Julian remembered his mother used to when she tended to a scrape or bruise on her son. The nostalgia was poignant, a painful reminder of the love and warmth he had lost and had yet to find again.
She looked up, catching his gaze, and there was an unspoken understanding, a shared moment. It was as if Clara recognized the turmoil that brewed within him. Her voice, gentle and understanding, broke the spell.
“Is everything alright, Julian?” she asked.
He cleared his throat, searching for words.
“It’s just... you… that is, this time together, has brought back some lovely memories,” he said.
A soft blush crept onto Clara’s cheeks, making her appear even more enchanting.
“I take that as a high compliment,” she said.
As the game continued, Julian found himself inadvertently comparing Clara to the memories of his mother. Her laughter, her kindness, her patience, and the way she treated everyone around her with genuine warmth and affection. The resemblance was uncanny.
It dawned on Julian that in dismissing Clara based on the premise of their prearranged union, he was perhaps robbing himself of a chance at rediscovering the warmth his life had lacked for so long. The realization was a heavy burden, and yet, it was liberating.
Turning to face Clara, he spoke sincerely.
“Clara, I must apologise for any coldness you might have perceived from my end,” he said. “It was unjust and undeserved. You’ve shown nothing but grace and understanding. You deserve the same in return.”
She looked surprised for a moment, but she recovered herself quickly with another warm smile.
“No apologies necessary, Julian,” she said. “Every heart has its reasons, and every soul its battles.”
He nodded, touched by her empathy.
“I promise to offer you the respect and consideration you deserve,” he said.
Clara looked at him, and he thought he saw something like hope in her eyes. She nodded, reaching out and putting her hand on his.
“As I will for you,” she said.
Julian nodded.I can see that you will,he agreed silently.
Chapter Nine
The following morning, as Clara stirred, her eyelids fluttered open, and a delicate smile played upon her lips. The memory of the previous night of the sensation of Julian’s hand upon her waist and of their victory during the game of Speculation was still fresh with her. She had watched Julian transform from a frost statue to something close to the warm, friendly person she had always known.
She sat up, pushing away the bed covers. As she took a deep breath, her mind teemed with thoughts of Julian. Had he felt the same connection she had while they were dancing? Or had it been just another dance for him? She shook her head, willing away such uncertain thoughts. The dance had meant something. It had to. Even if it was only him recalling their years spent together as friends.
