Page 21 of A Christmas Miracle for the Frosty Marquess
Barbara joined her as she was pulling a simple green gown and matching slippers from her wardrobe. Her lady’s maid curtseyed, giving her a warm smile.
“Good morning, milady,” she said. “Did you enjoy the ball last evening?”
Clara’s face fell a little and she sighed.
“It was lovely,” she said. “Though I do not know what to make of Julian. He is so charming one minute, then completely withdrawn the next. And he will grant me no insight into how he feels about this arrangement.”
Barbara gave her a sympathetic smile as she took the outfit from her mistress and began helping her out of her nightgown.
“It is early yet, milady,” she said. “Give him some time. He is your childhood friend. I am sure he will come around and warm up to the idea of being married to someone he knows so well.”
Clara nodded, but her mind filled with doubt. The momentary spark when they danced still lingered in her mind. But momentary was all it had been. The rest of his behavior told Clara that he would never warm up to accepting her as his wife. She wanted to believe that Barbara might be right. But Julian’s brooding expression kept flashing through her mind.
Once dressed, Clara decided to join her family for breakfast. Descending the grand staircase, the rich aroma of breakfast filled the air, pulling her into the present. Her siblings were already in the breakfast room, their faces animated as they discussed the upcoming Christmas festivities. Their enthusiasm was infectious, but Clara felt removed from it.
“Clara,” Amelia said, noticing her approach. “We were just discussing the possibility of a grand Christmas ball this year. Wouldn’t that be delightful?”
Clara forced a smile.
“Indeed, it would be,” she said.
She took a seat beside her sister, her thoughts still far away. The clinking of silverware and the laughter of her siblings sounded distant, muffled by the memories of the previous evening.
Her mother studied her with a keen eye.
“You seem rather distracted this morning, Clara,” she said. “Is everything well?”
Startled from her thoughts, Clara’s gaze met her mother’s.
“Oh, yes, Mother,” she said, blushing. “Just lost in thoughts, that’s all.”
The countess held her eldest daughter’s gaze for a moment, looking as though there was something else that she wanted to say. But before further conversation could ensue, the butler entered the room. In his hand, he held a crisply folded piece of parchment, sealed with an elegant wax seal.
“A letter for Lady Clara,” he said, presenting it to her.
She took it gently, immediately recognizing the familiar lavender scent wafting from the parchment. It was from Elizabeth.
“Thank you, Harrington,” she said, delicately breaking the seal.
Her eyes skimmed over the flowing script, her heart leaping. It was an invitation to join Elizabeth for afternoon tea. She thought about how Elizabeth’s kindness the night before had soothed her after Julian’s distant behavior, and she smiled softly as she read. A flutter of anticipation and nervousness rushed through her. She was delighted that Elizabeth had invited her for tea. But she didn’t know what to expect when it came to her ever-elusive friend, and soon to be husband.
Amelia peered over her shoulder, her light hazel eyes wide with curiosity.
“What is it, Clara?” she asked.
Clara held up the letter so that it faced her sister.
“It’s an invitation from Elizabeth,” Clara said. “She’s invited me for tea this afternoon.”
The countess nodded approvingly.
“That sounds lovely, darling,” she said. “I assume you will attend?”
Clara nodded, butterflies filling her stomach.
“Yes,” she said. “It will be nice to see Elizabeth again.”
Her mother smiled knowingly.
