Page 4 of The Duke’s Impossible Match

It seemed to be a grave mistake.

“Indeed. Well, you have a month, at least. That is better than a day,” Hubert said. He rose from his chair and excused himself, saying that he had other business to which he must attend. Clara remained sitting for a moment, a bitter taste on her tongue. Was he off to ruin someone else’s day? No, it wasn’t fair to blame him. He was only the messenger. This was someone else's fault. The lease should never have expired.

Clara rose suddenly and rushed back to where Agatha was sitting.

“Do you have my tea, dear?” she asked.

Clara came right up to her and placed her hands upon the chair. Locks of hair spilled around. She gazed deep into Agatha’s rheumy eyes. Agatha blinked back at her, puzzled.

“Grandmother, I need you to remember something. You met with a solicitor yesterday, and you have received letters that haven’t found their way to me. The fifty-year lease on this building has expired, and if it is not renewed, then St. Margaret’s is going to have to close,” the words rushed out on fervent breath.

“Fifty years? No, that can’t be right. Why, we only opened this… why… my goodness, has it really been that long?” Agatha said, comprehension coming across her features as she thought about the passage of time. Clara whirled away, tapping her fist against her forehead.

“There must be something we can do. I cannot allow the children to be turned out. We have all put too much work into this place. And the worst part is that we cannot do anything about it ourselves. Our fates all lie in the hands of the Duke of Clemont, whoever that may be. Since he allowed the lease to expire, I cannot imagine he cares about this place at all,” she said despairingly, lifting her gaze to the ceiling.

Agatha snapped her fingers and rose from her chair. She shuffled out of the room, and Clara was utterly perplexed. She followed Agatha, trying to get the woman to focus, but Agatha kept waving her away. They arrived in an office, and Agatha opened a cabinet, pulling out a lockbox, the key to which rested nearby. How she could remember this when she forgot the events of yesterday, Clara didn’t know.

Agatha turned and pulled out an old, faded letter. She chuckled.

“This is almost as old as I am.”

“What is it?” Clara asked, trying to soften her demanding tone. She knew that Agatha couldn’t help things, but it was still frustrating to be distracted when there was so much to do

“My dear friend Rose wrote this. It’s a promise that her family would always look after this house. We must trust in this,” she clutched the letter tightly.

“Then we must find Rose. Where is she?”

“Somewhere far beyond our reach, unfortunately,” Agatha sighed. From the way Agatha’s face dropped and the heaviness of her tone, there was no doubt in Clara’s mind that Rose had passed away. Clara felt her heart sink. It seemed as though the cards were stacked against her. However, Agatha had always been good at cheering Clara up in a myriad of ways.

“But there is her grandson, the Duke of Clemont. We must hope that he shall honor her promise.”

Clara’s lips parted. Her shoulders became rounded, and it was as though there was a hollow gap in her chest. Her gaze turned to the floor and her hands were pressed against her thigh, although they were limp rather than strong. All the strength had left her. Is this what her life had come to, relying on a stranger to abide by a promise that was made long before he was born?

Chapter Two

“Iam not sure I want to attend,” Eleanor said despairingly.

“Eleanor, please. You must. Your season should not end prematurely,” Gerald replied. Eleanor was dressed for the ball, but she did not glow with excitement. Her eyes were faded, and her shoulders were slumped. She let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“I am not sure it ever ended.” She then directed her gaze towards him. “This has been your season, brother.”

Gerald opened his mouth, but his lips shut shortly after as he wasn’t sure what he could say.

“I do apologize that it hasn’t been as you imagined. I can assure you that this wasn’t my design.”

“I understand, and I do not hold you responsible. However, it is difficult to think of this as my season when the other women are drawn to you like moths to a flame. All the attention is on you, the unmarried Duke of Clemont, and little is left for me. I am simply your sister.”

“That is not true.”

“To them it is,” she replied quickly, and again he found it hard to argue. Gerald scratched his head.

“Perhaps I could arrange for another chaperone to escort you.”

“Even then I shall only be plagued with questions about your absence. All those mothers and debutantes will be trying to find you through me, and that would be even more intolerable.”

“Eleanor, please, you know that mother and father would not want your debut season to end this way.”

Eleanor looked at him darkly. She rose to her feet and flicked out her dress, narrowing her eyes.