Page 42 of The Duke’s Impossible Match

Gerald’s face showed the strain he was under, having to rely on one arm while the other pulled the boat behind him. Thankfully it wasn’t a long swim.

“Look, Teddy, Duke is almost back with us,” Clara said gently, nudging Teddy. Teddy lifted his gaze, peeking out with one eye. When he saw that Clara was telling the truth, he started to brighten and the soft sobs fell silent.

Gerald drew the boat around, making sure that Duke could find his way to solid ground before Gerald. The dog padded off the boat and hopped onto the shore, and the children immediately ran towards him. Clara rose and smiled at the sight, then turned her gaze towards Gerald.

Water sloughed off his body as he rose. His white shirt was practically translucent, illuminating the hard angles of his body, the sharp masculinity that had been hidden before. Clara gasped as she turned her head, knowing that she was glimpsing something forbidden, yet her eyes rolled, drawn back to him, unable to resist the urge to look.

Gerald shook his hands and wrung the bottom of his shirt. A lump formed in Clara’s throat. Her mind grew hazy, and she tried to quell these unwanted feelings.

“I’m sorry, Duke! I’ll never do anything like that again. I hope you can forgive me,” Teddy said.

Duke promptly licked Teddy’s cheek, and all seemed to be right with the world again. Emily was the first to run to Gerald, but the others soon followed. They slammed against his legs with such force that she watched Gerald steady himself, almost falling back into the pond. They surrounded his legs, and then Duke wanted to get in on the action as well. Clara was the only one not to approach, and she couldn’t.

She wouldn’t allow herself.

“I’ll fetch you a towel,” Clara said. Gerald’s gaze flicked up at her, and Clara felt something shift inside. She brushed it off, however, putting it down to the shock at seeing him throw himself into the pond. However, the image of his strong body, only hidden by the watery veil of his shirt, would linger in her mind for far longer than she ever intended, and it was as though her own mind betrayed her.

She could only hope that in time it would.

Chapter Seventeen

“This is a list of all the flowers in the gardens. I thought this might be easier than walking around the entire grounds, although far less pleasurable,” Gerald said.

They were sitting at a vast table, with a long list of flowers displayed on different sheets of paper. Industrious maids brought tea and biscuits, pouring a cup beside Clara.

“Your collection seems even more impressive when it is distilled down into this form,” Clara said, perusing the flowers. She was not familiar with all the varieties, but many leaped out at her, and she could already imagine how they would blend together in colorful bouquets.

“I hope there are enough suitable flowers here for you to use. Are any fitting for the benefit?” he asked, referring to an event that he’d suggested recently. To help offset the cost of the repairs, and also to raise awareness for St. Margaret’s, a benefit was to be held. Gerald asked Clara to pick out the flowers. She sipped her tea and then tapped her finger against her lower lip as she rose from her chair slightly and leaned over the table, scanning the names of all the flowers.

“I thought that a mixture of rhododendrons and lavender might look appealing, and lavender is said to relax people. It might lull them into a generous state of mind,” Gerald suggested.

“I’m not sure those flowers would communicate the right meaning.”

“Meaning?” Gerald asked, cocking his head and raising his eyebrow.

“Every flower has its own meaning. For example, rhododendrons signify danger and lavender distrust, two things that we most certainly do not want to raise in the minds of our guests.”

“I see. I had no idea flowers could convey such significance.”

“Indeed, each one has its own meaning, and sometimes different varieties of the same flower can mean different things.” She thought. “Hmmm. Daisies for innocence, of course, and morning glories for affection. Violets and pansies, of course--”

Gerald blinked. “Why?”

“Violets stand for faithfulness and pansies for thoughtfulness. Perfect things to remind our possible benefactors of.”

“I see there is a severe lack in my understanding of flowers. I bow to your wisdom.”

Clara smiled.

“I’m only so well-versed because of Aunt Charlotte. She finds the language of flowers fascinating. I believe she’s attempted to catalogue it on several occasions.”

“And then people like me will not be so befuddled,” Gerald said, then he passed his gaze across the lists. “I notice that you haven’t chosen any roses. Are they not said to be the loveliest of all the flowers?”

“They are, but generally they are reserved for romance, and we do not want to inspire these thoughts.”

Gerald almost shuddered. “We most certainly do not.”

As Clara stared at him, she thought about not only the episode by the lake, but also that moment in the maze when she had only just managed to cling to a last thread of control, while he leaned towards her for a kiss. He had quite forgotten himself, and she did not judge him for it. It was even comforting to know that there were moments when he was just as confused as she was.