Page 11 of Betting on a Duke
Clarice stood with her hands on the railing, and Letitia came to stand beside her. “Just breathe slowly and steadily. That will help your heart slow down and ease your shaking body.”
“Thank you,” Clarice replied, feeling grateful to have these friends supporting her. As everything started to return to normal, she said softly, “I always knew I would run into Samuel again one day. I believed I would act calm, sophisticated, and worldly. When in actuality, I broke into a million tiny pieces inside.” She exhaled shakily. “Do you think anyone noticed?”
Lilly said calmly, “Worrying about what others think about you is pointless. And honestly, I don’t believe anyone in the ballroom was paying attention to you, so the answer to your question is no.”
“Thank you all for being so kind to me. During my marriage to Chesterfield, I felt very alone. He went out daily and most nights, but we never socialized together as a married couple. He didn’t allow me to have visitors or visit anyone. I was essentially a prisoner in his home. I never even saw my mother. It wasn’t until after his death that Letitia and I became friends. So thank you.”
“We are your friends now,” Lilly said with a sad smile. “You went from no friends to one friend to now having three. Please reach out to us at any time.”
Clarice fumbled with her reticle’s opening, took out her embroidered blue-and-green floral handkerchief, and dabbed her tears away. “Thank you.” As she pulled herself together, she knew what she had todo. She needed to speak with Samuel. If she didn’t, these panicky, overwhelming feelings would never end. She would be a bundle of nerves at every social event she attended, wondering if she would run into him. Nothing would change, and she wouldn’t be able to move on until she faced the past and made peace with it.
*
The moment Samuel’seyes landed on Clarice’s beautiful face across the room, he locked his knees because they nearly buckled, sending him tumbling to the floor. Last Season, he managed never to run into her. Too bad his luck had run out. It wasn’t that he blamed her for anything that happened between them, or for what her father did to him. However, seeing her brought back all his bad memories along with the good ones. Damn his traitorous heart inside his chest. It wanted to reach out and join with hers, even after all the years that had passed. Seven, to be exact. Seven long, lonely years spent with his thoroughbred horses, wiling away the time. His horses meant everything to him. Most people he could take or leave, except for his two friends from Eton, who had stood beside him forever. Without Archibald Fitzroy, the Viscount Greyson, and Mr. Jacob Hunter, he would have given up on life a long time ago. He credited them with saving his life. Credited them for being able to get up in the morning. For him continuing to breathe on a daily basis. No finer friends existed anywhere in the world.
“Don’t look,” Samuel said, “but Clarice is here talking with the Duchess of Blackstone, the Countess of Langford, and another lady I don’t recognize.” He nearly smacked Hunter on the back. “I said, don’t look.”
“You realize that when someone says ‘don’t look,’ the person automatically looks.”
“He’s right, Stanton,” Greyson interjected.
“Yes, well. Anyway, what the bloody hell am I supposed to say to her if the opportunity arises?”
“How about you start with, ‘Good evening, Marchioness. How nice to see you again’,” Greyson said seriously.
Samuel groaned. “Yes. Greetings are easy. What if she asks about other things?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Hunter added. “No sense worrying about what you’ll say until the time comes. And when it does, I have faith in you that you’ll say all the right things.”
“I’m glad you have faith in me, because mine just ran out the door.”
“You can relax now,” Greyson said. “She went out on the veranda with the other ladies.”
Samuel took a deep breath and exhaled; instantly, his body calmed. However, his mind did not. It played through all the different scenarios of what he could or should say to her. To this day, he honestly didn’t know if she knew what had happened to him. And he didn’t want to burden her with that guilt by sharing the story if she didn’t know. Still, someone was bound to tell her eventually. Thetonloved to gossip and spill secrets.
“Don’t look now,” Hunter said, his eyes wide and anger flickering across his features. “The blackguard himself, the Earl of Portsmouth, just entered the ballroom.”
Samuel swayed, and his friend Greyson reached out his hand to steady him. “He has some nerve,” Greyson droned.
Hunter said angrily, “I heard he’s looking to marry again, hoping for a male heir.”
“Christ,” Samuel raked his hand through his shoulder-length, dark hair. “What father would marry his daughter to a man like him?”
Hunter snorted, “You would be surprised what some will do to procure a title for their daughter.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Samuel mumbled as he swallowed. “I need to be alone for a minute.” Without making eye contact with anyone, he exited the ballroom and wandered down a corridor until he found the first empty room, a small salon. He was drawn to a large window overlooking a small garden lit up with lanterns and full of flowing plants and trees. With his arms crossed behind his back, he rocked back on his heels and stared outside, no longer seeing the pretty garden, but recalling Clarice and him when they were young, sitting in Stanton Hall’s gardens with their heads together in private conversation.
Soon, he felt a presence behind him, making every nerve ending in his body take notice. “You followed me?” he said without turning.
“So you do acknowledge that you know who I am?”
Her voice, soft yet tense, made him realize how much he missed hearing it. “Did you truly believe I would ever forget you?” The sudden, painful dryness in his throat took him by surprise.
She sighed. “No. As I have never forgotten you. How have you been?”
Her question had him fighting back laughter brought on by nerves and sadness. He cleared his throat and mumbled, “I’ve been well. And you?”
Soft, nervous laughter trickled into his ears. “I’ve been good. Are you going to keep staring out the window, or will you turn around and look at me?”
