by Joyce Wright
Chapter 1
The sun was only just beginning to rise, peeking through the clouds and bathing the manor in a soft pinkish-orange. The streetlights were not yet doused, shining a vivid yellow through the dim morning haze.
Clara Ollerton groaned as she turned over in her bed, shockingly red hair sprawled out messily over the white pillow. The sound of the early-morning buzz met her ears; her sister laughing, a door slamming closed, someone walking in the hall.
“Clara! Hurry up, would you dear? There is something very important I must tell you!”
Pushing herself up, Clara stared at her door for a moment, mulling over her mother’s words. Something important - whatever could that be? Her mother Edith rarely had time for either of her two children, only speaking to them when it was absolutely necessary.
“Clara! Hurry up!”
With a groan, Clara drew back the sheets and stood up, feet meeting the cold wooden floor. “Just a moment!” she called back as she dug out simple green dress from the wardrobe. While her mother and sister had servants to help them dress, Clara preferred the privacy of doing it herself.
Within minutes she was downstairs, still wrestling her vibrant hair into a knot at the back of her skull. Her sister was already at the table, clad in a much lovelier blue dress with her hair loose. It was quite clear Jessie had inherited their mother’s prettiness - while Clara had the strong jaw and deep-set eyes of her father.
“There you are, Clara. Why do you never come when I call? I swear, none of my children ever care to listen to me.” Edith rolled her eyes, waving a pudgy hand dismissively.
“You said there was something important?” She looked evenly at her mother, who sat at the dining table.
Edith paused her pottering to turn to Clara, one hand on her thick hip. “I did. Jessie, go and check on our maid Maria; make sure she is doing as she should.”
“Mother, I-”
“Jessie, do as I say.”
With a huff, the eldest Ollerton daughter pushed back her chair and strode out, casting the two women curious looks before softly closing the door.
“Mother, what is this all about?” Clara sat down, pine green eyes narrowed in confusion. Her mother was certainly making an issue of this, sending Jessie into another room like that. “Is there something wrong?”
Edith sat across from her, resting her hands gently on the table. “No, nothing is wrong. Quite the opposite, in fact. Your sister Ruby was married last year, Pauline the year before.”
“I fail to see how that relates to me, mother.”
“If you would quiet long enough for me to explain, I would.” Edith clicked her tongue, folding her arms. “You have a possible suitor - a Duke, no less! Your father and I believe it would be best for you to meet soon, to see if you may be a match.”
Clara opened her mouth to speak, heart skipping - only to close it again without saying a word.
“What do you say? It is about time you start thinking about a family of your own.”
“I have never considered it, not yet. Why have you arranged this without my knowledge?”
Edith laughed, shaking her head. “You are my daughter, I know you better than you know yourself. If I do not do these things for you, they will never happen.”
Clara didn’t want a suitor - she had never thought about a family, a husband, children. When the time came, she wanted to marry a man who loved her - not some Duke she hardly knew.
“He is the Duke of Somerset, Clara. He has money and status - for our families to combine, it would bring good fortune on us.”
Clara stayed silent, regarding her mother through thick eyelashes. “So this is a marriage of convenience?”
“Yes, as are many marriages. Your father and I married for the same reason.”
Clara’s heart thudded as she clenched her fists, willing herself to be calm. Anger did no one any good, especially if that anger was aimed at Edith. “When are we to meet?”
Edith beamed, seemingly mistaking her daughter’s anger for excitement. “Saturday. He is to come here to meet with you.”
She simply nodded, feeling the anger cool to a thick pit in her stomach. She should have expected this of Edith - she had married Pauline off two years ago to the son of an Earl, and when Ruby had become engaged to a wealthy Scottish man the next year Edith had been overjoyed.
"Mother I... I fear this is not right for me. I do not wish to meet this Duke, nor do I want us to court.” She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.
“You will feel differently when you meet him. He is a charming man and I believe your marriage will be perfect for you.”
Clara shoved her seat back, launching herself to her feet with her hands slamming against the wooden table. “No, this is right for you. All you care about is money and status - but I do not!” She sucked in a breath, feeling tears sting the corner of her eyes. “Please, mother, listen to me. Cancel this arrangement.
“I certainly will not. You will do as I say, Clara - and you will meet the Duke of Somerset this Saturday as planned.
Clara stifled a yell running a hand through her hair. Edith did not want to listen; she only cared for herself and her own ideals. As calmly as she possibly could, Clara straightened herself and turned to the door. “You cannot tell me what to do, mother. I will not allow you to control my life.”
With a deep breath and not another word, Clara strode from the dining room, skirts swishing madly around her ankles.
Chapter 2
Clara sighed as she brushed down her skirts for the millionth time, glaring at the pristine, baby pink fabric. It was time for her to meet the Duke of Somerset, and her mother had insisted relentlessly that she dress up even more finely than usual. It had taken two hours for her to dress and perfect her hair - for once, she even had a maid assist her.
“Now remember Clara - this is for your benefit, as well as the benefit of the family lineage. Do not mess this up for us.”
For us. Clara cringed at the words. “Yes mother,” she replied simply, biting at the corner of her lower lip.
Without another word she stood up, brushing her skirts one last time as she left the huge bedroom. She trudged along the expanse of hall, down the winding staircase and into the spacious reception room across from the kitchen.
The room was the size of most peoples’ houses, with a gigantic fireplace surrounded by plush chairs and a sofa long enough to fit a family. Everything was cream and shades of brown - neutral colours, like most of the manor. Boring, Clara thought, but elegant.
No sooner had she perched on the sofa when somebody arrived, rapping on the front door. A maid opened the door, and a man’s voice drifted into the reception through the hall.
“Miss Clara is waiting for you,” the maid replied, her voice becoming louder as she approached the room.
A tall man entered, wearing a magnificently expensive suit - even finer than the ones her father wore. His hair was almost pitch black, his eyes a lovely rich brown colour. She felt as if she could look at those eyes forever.
Clara realised she had been staring and cleared her throat, standing to curtsy. “Hello, sir. I am Clara Ollerton.”
“Hello Clara. I am Duke Oscar Harding of Somerset.”
Oscar? Now that she thought about it, Edith had never mentioned his name, only his title. She simply could not imagine herself marrying someone named ‘Oscar’, no matter how pretty his eyes.
“Miss? Your mother asked I bring you tea later - is there anything you need now?”
Clara’s eyes drifted from the Duke to her maid. “No, thank you Lettie. You may leave us.”
The maid nodded with a promise she would be close by, and then closed the door.
The Duke sat on one of the overstuffed armchairs, reclining as if he had lived there all his life. “Miss Clara Ollerton? A beautiful name. May I say, you are equally lovely.”
Clara smiled slightly. If nothing else, he was certainly a gentleman. “Thank you. Most people believe my sister Jessie
to be the pretty one.”
“I am assuming your mother has told you why we are meeting?”
Clara blew out a breath and nodded. Of course she did - her mother had hardly stopped talking about this since she had first been told. Edith certainly did have high hopes for her daughter - and why shouldn’t she, when all of her other children had married perfectly lovely, rich young men?
“She has,” she replied simply, “and I must say it came as quite a shock.” She couldn’t hide the edge to her voice.
“I can imagine. You must realise, I was not the one to arrange this. My family believe I am too old not to be married. Now I am Duke, it is expected of me.”
Clara narrowed her eyes slightly, nodding. “I see. You do not want to marry?”
The Duke cleared his throat and shook his head. “That... was not what I meant, I am sorry. I simply meant that I do not want this to be forced, and if we do not agree with each other I would not be angry for you to turn me down.”
Oh. This was an odd start to any kind of introduction, but especially to the man who was to be her husband. He was honest, though, and it was hard not to appreciate that. Still, though - it seemed odd that he had arranged all of this when he evidently was no more interested than she was.
“Duke Harding, I-”
“Please, you may call me Oscar.”
Clara paused for a second, mouth held open like a fish. Calling a Duke by his given name? She was almost certain that never happened. “Of course. Oscar, I must ask - why me? Of all the women in the country, why me?”
He laughed lightly, thin smile lines appearing along his cheeks. “Why not?”
She simply looked at him, brow raised.
“Ah, you wish for a serious answer? I suppose I can give you one.” He leaned forward in his seat, resting his hands on his knee. “It has a lot to do with your heritage. You come from a fine family - I am sure your parents have already given you the ‘families combined’ lecture.”
Edith had, and she did not wish to hear it again. “Yes, they have. Is that all?”
He said nothing for a long moment, considering his words carefully. Then, “no, not all. My uncle knows a relative of yours - a cousin, perhaps an aunt, I am not sure. They spoke highly of you, in any case. I think that is reason enough to wish to meet you, if nothing else.”
That explained why he knew about her, but still not why he chose her. Clara supposed it didn’t really matter, as she had no interest in marrying him regardless. Still, her heart fluttered at the thought of being picked out among a hundred other women - some of whom were surely a better fit than Clara herself.
“Miss Clara? Are you quite all right?”
With a jerk, Clara glanced up at the Duke - no, Oscar. That was going to be difficult to remember. “Yes, I am fine. Just... thinking. Please forgive my rudeness.”
They sat in silence for a moment - thick, awkward silence that settled heavily over Clara like a cloud about to rain. It had always been difficult for her to keep up a conversation - even more so with strangers. She shifted uncomfortably, raking her mind for something to say.
“Clara, have you seen - oh goodness, I am so sorry! It slipped my mind you had a visitor today.” Clara’s sister Jessie stood in the doorway, her face as red as a ripe tomato. “Please excuse me, Duke.” She moved back to slip out of the room, but then her eyes seemed to land on something by the mantelpiece.
“Is there something you want, Jessie?” Honestly, she was glad for the interruption - but she knew things would be ten times more awkward once Jessie left.
“Oh, just my book. It is just on that table - but I can retrieve it later, it is no trouble.” With an apologetic nod and swish of her hair, Jessie was gone.
“I must apologise for my sister, Oscar. She is a kind girl, but does not know her etiquette.”
Oscar’s gaze lingered on the closed door, and he smiled gently as he faced Clara again. “No trouble, I assure you. She seems like a lovely young woman - I can see the family resemblance.”
It was not entirely true. They shared the same fiery red hair - given to them by their mother - but that was where the similarities ended. It seemed such unusual hair was enough for people to assume relations.
“What were we discussing before our interruption?”
Nothing, technically - but Clara said nothing of that in fear of sounding rude. “Us, I suppose.”
“Of course.” He smiled again, showing perfectly straight teeth. Tiny dimples curved at the corner of his lips. “I was thinking, miss Clara, that we might meet for a picnic sometime this week? The weather has been so lovely lately.”
She nodded, though it lacked enthusiasm. “Yes, I think I would enjoy that. Where do you suggest?”
“The gardens of my manor, if that suits.”
“Yes, thank you.” Idly, Clara wondered what his manor looked like. Her own home was considered impressive by others - his must be a dream, even to her. A Duke of his standing must have the biggest manor in the city.
“It will give us the chance to get to know each other without any interruptions.” Once again his eyes drifted to the door, lingering for just a moment.
Something clicked inside Clara’s mind. A gear slipping into place. Oscar had taken an interest in her youngest sister. The way he looked at the door, as if wishing she would come back. For some reason, the knowledge settled heavily in her stomach, something akin to disappointment rather than relief.
“You seem to like my sister, though her disturbance was brief,” Clara said carefully. She did not want to offend.
“I do, though not how you think.” He smiled knowingly - he had seen straight through her.
Clara simply pursed her lips and nodded, shrugging slightly. “I apologize - I did not mean anything by it. We are the ones to marry, not Jessie.”
“Do you remember what I said? That I do not want you to be pressured into marrying me if it is not what you desire?”
“So you do not wish to do this, then?”
Oscar frowned slightly, thick eyebrows furrowed. “You misread my words, miss Clara. I simply do not wish you to feel uncomfortable, nor do I wish things to proceed too quickly.”
She nodded, feeling her cheeks warm. Oh, she was making a fool of herself here! If her mother was there, she would have been cringing at how her daughter spoke. Earlier that day she would not have cared, but now she wanted to make a good impression on the Duke. Why had her ideas changed in so short a time?
There was a light tap on the door, and then the maid arrived with a tray of tea and sandwiches. “Good afternoon miss, Duke.” She gently set the tray down on the table and turned to Clara. “Is there anything else you require?”
“No, that is all Lettie.”
As the maid left, a mass of red appeared by the door in her place. Jessie again. She eyed Clara and the Duke cautiously. “Terribly sorry, but I do rather need that book.”
With a sigh, Clara ushered her forward. “Grab it, then. Mother will be mad if she finds you interrupting like this.”
Jessie cringed, quickly darting forward to snatch her book from a little table in the corner. “I know, I know, but I require it for my studies.” She hurried back to the door, lowering herself into a wobbly curtsy at the Duke. “Again, I apologize profusely. This won’t happen again.”
As she left, Oscar laughed. “Your sister certainly is an odd one, is she not?”
Chapter 3
Three days later, Clara stood in front of an impossibly huge manor, gazing up at the magnificent building. She had thought her own home was beautiful, but this one was beyond what words could describe. It loomed over her, intimidating yet hypnotizing.
She was still gazing up at it when a servant opened the door. She jumped as the door creaked open, smoothing her skirts anxiously. “Clara Ollerton to see the Duke. He is expecting me.”
The servant said nothing as he ushered her in, taking her coat and bonnet. A maid arrived a moment later to show her into the living room.
The room, while only the size of Clara’s reception, was breathtaking. The mantelpiece alone looked like it cost more than all of the furniture in her reception combined. Sofas and chairs took up the majority of the room, the cream fabric surface pristine enough they looked as if they had never been used.
Clara lowered herself into an armchair almost reluctant to crease the fabric. If there was even the tiniest particle of dust or dirt on her dress, it would stain the chair. She sat there for a moment, hands clasped, until Oscar arrived.
His hair was slicked back the same way as before, a few strands hanging in his dark eyes. He smiled as he saw Clara, settling himself across from her on the sofa. “Good afternoon, miss Clara.”
“Good afternoon,” she repeated, forcing her own smile.
He was an incredibly handsome man, and he seemed even more so now. Perhaps it was just because he was in his own home - he was more relaxed, more himself. Clara found herself wishing she could touch that beautiful hair of his. She felt herself lean forward before she realized what she was doing.
“Would you like me to escort you outside? The cooks have already prepared us our meal for the picnic.” He offered a hand to help her to her feet, then linked arms with her as he led her into the hall.
As soon as they were outside, Clara relaxed. She could almost imagine they were at a public park, or in her own grounds without the magnificence of the living room crowding her. A light breeze hit her face, though it wasn’t cold.
A pale blue blanket rested on the grass, close to a small fountain of stone birds with water gushing from their beaks. A large wicker basket sat beside it, filled with who knew what delicious foods.
Clara settled herself, shaking out her skirts so her legs remained hidden while she sat cross legged. Oscar sat beside her, busying himself with the basket.
“So, miss Clara, what do you think of my manor?”
“It is wonderful,” she replied honestly, glancing at the towering building from the corner of her eye, “much grander than I could have pictured myself.”
He chuckled lightly. “It is not so much more than yours. Your family has a wonderful house too, do they not?”
