Page 24 of Tempting the Bluestocking
“CeCe, dear,” Helene called out from the open drawing room door. “How did your meeting with Mr. Sterling go?”
Untying the ribbons of her sodden hat, she tossed it onto the entrance hall table beside the fresh flowers she’d arranged just this morning.
“Quite well, actually,” she snapped, unable to keep the anger and hurt out of her voice. “It’s been decided that Edward and I will not continue our arrangement. He will seek a new keeper and I will get on quite well without him.”
She caught sight of her aunt’s shocked expression just before spinning away to make for her greenhouse. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain her painful, embarrassing conversation with Edward.
“Wait, Clare! Won’t you tell me what happened?”
“Suffice it to say, men are idiots,” she threw over her shoulder without a look back.
She hated to treat her aunt so poorly, but if she spoke of it she might fall apart. She might fall to the floor, lay her head in Helene’s lap and weep over what she’d come to want most but would never have. It was bad enough that Edward had seen her shed tears; she was done weeping for him. For God’s sake, she was an educated woman, a worldy woman, a botanist! She had never been the sort to lapse into tears over a man and she would not start now.
Throwing open the door to the conservatory, she breathed a small sigh of relief. At least here, the only thing that mattered was the life she’d cultivated from soil and seeds. Her experiments might be unpredictable at times, but they did not have the power to ruin her life or hurt her. Trying again wouldn’t expose her to more hurt or mortification.
Sinking down onto her stool, she noticed that one of her hybrids had begun to bud. Blossoms would be soon to follow, allowing her to see the results of her experiment. This should have brought her some sort of happiness, but she couldn’t feel anything just now. She felt as if she’d been gutted, turned inside out with all her nerves exposed to the elements. What had once seemed so trivial to her—marriage, a family of her own, and the sort of love she’d never believed in—had become a most ardent wish, one that had been trampled on before it ever saw the light of day.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel it all for a moment. She would let herself be disappointed, angry, and heartbroken, but only until she was ready to leave this room. She had lived a life of contentment and independence before him, and she would do it again. Going forward, she would simply think of this as one of her experiments. Except, this particular test would never be repeated. It simply wasn’t worth the result.
The sound of footsteps approaching had her opening her eyes and sitting up straight, to better conceal how wretched she felt. It was one thing to wallow in her misery alone, but quite another to let someone else bear witness to it—even Aunt Helene, who stood on the other side of the table peering at Clare with concern in her eyes.
“This morning you left here in a downright giddy mood, telling me you were off to extend your contract with Edward,” she said. “Something happened between now and then.”
Reaching for her journal, Clare flipped it open and recorded the date for a new entry. Avoiding her aunt’s gaze, she began notating the growth and progress of her buddingLilium.
“Something did happen, but it wasn’t of any consequence. I simply realized that you were right…some people are only meant to be a temporary part of our lives. That is all,” she murmured, hating that her voice betrayed her on the last few words by cracking.
Seeming to sense that Clare would say no more on the matter, Helene sighed and retreated, leaving her in blessed solitude once more. As she went back to her notes, she repeated those words to herself over and over again, determined that she’d think and speak them as many times as it took for her to believe them.
Chapter 10
Afew days later, Clare sat at her desk with a new letter from Gillian, this one having just arrived from Sussex. With it had come only one small mineral sample, but it might just be the most beautiful Clare had ever seen. ‘Hastings firestorm amber’ Gilly had called it, and the bit of it she’d sent seemed alive with tongues of flame from the inside. Holding the specimen up to the light, she observed the threads of red, orange, and brown effusing through the honey-colored stone, the light reflecting off its inner prisms like sparks.
Her friend’s letter had been filled with news and cheer, which Clare had been glad to read no matter how it reminded her of her own recent disappointment. The Young siblings had departed Cornwall for Sussex, taking up at a seaside resort in Hastings for a bit of a holiday before moving on to their next destination. But Gilly was never capable of true rest for long, and she’d begun digging about the shingled shore in search of various treasures. It was here she had dug up the amber, a bit of which she’d sent to Clare. The two were enjoying the sea air as well as a respite from the constant pace of their work. As well, Randall had met a lovely young woman and the two seemed to be in the midst of a budding romance. That last bit of news would have relieved Clare a month ago, a sure sign that Gilly’s brother had finally turned his attentions elsewhere. Yet, knowing that there were two people in Sussex falling in love while she was in London nursing a broken heart only annoyed her.
Because, of course it was so easy for other people. People who fit into each other’s lives with ease, people who weren’t eccentric bluestockings or impoverished courtesans with failing shipping companies, and who knew how to give, receive and express love without tearing each other to pieces.
Edward isn’t torn to pieces,she told herself with a derisive snort.He’s too busy saddling his high horse.
His assumption that she’d only wanted to extend their arrangement out of pity angered her most of all. She had thought he’d come to know her better than that, but she’d obviously been mistaken. He didn’t know her at all if her actions had sent him leaping to such an asinine conclusion. It was for the best, then. If he did not know her, he could not possibly love her.
Folding Gilly’s letter and setting it aside, she then rose to retrieve the chest containing her minerals to store the amber. Just as she opened the latch and lifted the lid, the sound of voices came at her from downstairs. She froze, her heart leaping into her throat as she recognized the deep rumbling tones of a man’s voice. Inclining her head, she listened more closely, certain she recognized the male voice that seemed to penetrate the doors, vibrate the walls, and send unwanted pangs of longing straight to her traitorous heart.
Closing the lid on her chest, she crept on silent feet to the stairs, peering over the railing at the landing below. Sure enough, she found Edward standing just within the entrance hall with his hat in his hands, his expression earnest as he spoke with Aunt Helene.
“Do you think she will see me?” he asked. “I don’t know if she’s informed you of what happened when last we spoke—”
“No,” Helene said. “But whatever you said or did to her, she hasn’t been herself these past few days. I am not certain allowing you to see her would be a good idea.”
Clare bit her lip, wondering just what Edward could want with her now. He’d made it clear that he intended to move on with a new keeper. It seemed all had been said and done, yet here he stood, all but begging Helene to be allowed to see her.
“I just want the chance to make things right. She’s capable of deciding for herself whether she wants to see me.”
Helene looked ready to protest again, but curiosity got the best of Clare and she made her presence known by clearing her throat, the sound echoing down to the entrance hall. Two heads tilted upward, and her aunt grimaced at the sight of her, while Edward took on a look of sheer determination.
“CeCe,” he said, his voice heavy and thick as if he were as overwrought as she felt.
He looked ghastly, with dark circles showing beneath his eyes and his mouth pinched. From where she stood, he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Could that be due to guilt, perhaps?
