He nearly fell out of his chair when he did. She was wearing a gown. Not like the ones she’d worn so long ago, with all their finery and frippery. But a simple one that accentuated all her best features, the bodice revealed just the barest hint of cleavage and the cascading skirt brought his attention to the gentle swell of her hips. Her hair had been done too, twisted and curled so it fell just so around her slender, beautiful face.
She looked fresh and lovely despite her worried expression.
“Good morning, Claire,” he said, setting his quill down carefully. “I hope you slept well.”
She hesitated in the doorway and shrugged. “Not very, actually.”
He arched a brow. “Is the bed in your room not comfortable?”
“Very comfortable,” she said, and for a moment she seemed to struggle with her next words. “M-my sleeplessness had nothing to do with the quality of my chamber.”
He rose slowly, but didn’t come around the desk. He recognized fully how difficult this admission was for her, he was not going to push her. “Then what troubled you, Claire?”
She opened and shut her mouth a few times, still searching for the words. Then she let out a frustrated sigh. “Yesterday you promised me a tour of your home. Would you show me around now?”
She was avoiding his question, just as she often tried to avoid difficult subjects. He knew it and yet he didn’t want to argue with her. He wanted to be with her, for all the little time they likely had left now.
He sighed. “Certainly, though I was teasing, you know. There is little to show. This is no showcase townhouse like your brothers’ or your mother’s.”
She flinched ever so slightly at the mention of the family she was trying to avoid, but said, “I think it’s wonderful, War. It’s yours. Earned by your sweat and hard work. There could be nothing finer.”
He couldn’t help but smile at that observation. He often felt the same way. He stepped around the desk at last and held out an arm for her. She took it, electric desire snapping instantly between them. He was growing accustomed to that and was able to keep himself from reacting.
Instead, he said, “Growing up, I admit I couldn’t imagine this. I sometimes didn’t believe I would live past twenty-five, let alone be so…so…”
“Legitimate,” she teased.
He laughed. “Oh, don’t go so far. It makes me sound boring.”
“You? Never.” Her own smile grew, lightening the darkness that so often lingered in her eyes.
He took her down the hallway, showing her the parlor. She made the proper sounds of delight despite the fact it was small and somewhat under-furnished.
“And that is all you hadn’t already seen,” he said. “Except for one last room.”
He went to the closed door at the end of the hallway and pushed it open. She stepped inside and took in a breath. “Oh, a music room,” she all but purred as she stepped toward the piano situated near the window. Her delicate fingers danced across the keys without pressing them and her wistful expression made his heart hurt.
“The previous owners didn’t wish to move the piano, so it stayed,” he explained. “Though what use for it I have, I don’t know.”
“You don’t play?” she asked.
He lifted his brows. “You cannot be serious in that question.”
“You could learn, if you liked,” she said with a smile. “There are many tutors here in London who you could hire.”
“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “But I doubt it.”
“I used to play,” she mused, her tone far away. “My moth—” She broke off and shook her head.
“Your mother taught you?” he finished for her.
“All Woodley girls must know the pianoforte,” she whispered, and she lifted her hand from the keys and turned away. “It is practically English law.”
“I’m certain you were wonderful at it. I’d love to hear you play,” he encouraged, trying to steer her back to her roots on some level.
She smiled, but the expression was false. “Oh, no. I think not. Thank you for showing me around, War. It is a lovely home.”
She tried to move to the door, but he stepped in her path. She stopped, staring at his chest, her breath short.
“You couldn’t sleep because of our argument about seeing your family,” he said quietly.
She tensed, and slowly her gaze eased up his body to his face. “Yes,” she whispered.
“I can see you want to go home, Claire,” he said, dragging a finger along her cheek. “You can’t deny it.”
“It’s not my home,” she said through clenched teeth. “You deserve to be there more than I do. You’ve never betrayed them as I did.”
He caught his breath. “Are you saying you aren’t worthy of forgiveness?”
She nodded. “I’m not.”
“And what about me, then? Do you think I’m unworthy too?”
Her lips pursed. “Whatever happened when you were in London working for your brother, it has nothing to do with my family. You’ve never been anything but honorable toward them. It isn’t the same.”
“Honorable,” he said, his tone hollow. “You think so. Well, you are wrong, Claire. So wrong.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion.
He hesitated, for he had one more secret to tell her. One more that he hoped might make her see that it was time to set herself free from her guilt. He also feared it might make her hate him.
“When I started working for your family, I wasn’t trying to get a new start, Claire. I took the job because I intended to rob them.”
Chapter Fourteen
Claire’s mind spun as she digested what War had just confessed.
“I-I—what?” she asked, unable to form better words than that. She took a long breath, though it did little to calm her busy mind, and tried again. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
He ran a hand through his hair, and for a moment his expression was so pained and broken that her heart hurt in response. “I had never been anything but the muscle for a criminal, Claire. I didn’t know anything else. I left my brother and that life, yes, but I had no direction, no hope for a future. I roamed from town to town, stealing what I needed, evading the law. And then I heard that this noble fop was looking for someone to run his stables.”
“Edward.”
War looked like he wanted to turn away, but he didn’t. He just held her gaze to let her see the truth and his pain over it. “Word was he was rich, young and perhaps a bit too trusting. He was the perfect mark. I had stolen horses dozens of times over the years—it was actually one of my specialties. I’d always felt a connection to the animals, but I had never admitted that to myself. I knew just enough to sound credible and I thought if I could convince your brother to take me on, I’d get a few weeks’ free food and room.”
He shook his head and she swallowed hard. “And then?”
“Then I could steal whatever I liked and disappear into the night again. That was my plan, Claire.”
Her voice was weak as she whispered, “But—but you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Why?” she asked.
He paced away at last, and his pain was palpable in the way his shoulders slumped forward. “I met you.”
Her lips parted in shock. He couldn’t mean that. She couldn’t have been the reason he turned fully away from his life on the street. It wasn’t possible.
“I looked at you,” he continued, facing her again. “And I saw something beautiful. Something right. I knew I’d never have you, but I couldn’t destroy you either. So I stayed. And I got to know your family. Edward knew, I think, that I had lied about the depth of my knowledge of horses, but he never said anything. He helped me learn about them, he helped me hone my natural abilities.”
“He gave you a chance,” she whispered with a smile. That was so like Edward.
War nodded. “He gave
me a life. When you left, I saw, I still see, their pain. And I owe them. And honestly, Claire, so do you.”
She flinched. He was right, of course. But he had no idea the Pandora ’s Box she would open if she went home. If she faced them.
“They will hate me,” she whispered.
“They could never hate you, sweet,” he said, reaching out to trace her jaw with his fingertip. “Just see them. Show them that you’re all right. After that you can walk away again if you want to. You can tell them or not tell them anything you want. I won’t force the issue.”
Her entire body felt rigid, like it could shatter, as she considered his request. He was asking the world of her. But then, she was doing the same of him.
“You are going to see your brother for me and I know that hurts you,” she said softly. “So it’s only fair that I do this for you.”
The moment she said it she felt two conflicting emotions. One was a rush of anxiety that choked her. But the second was a lifting of weight from her shoulders. She’d spent years avoiding her family, breaking herself away even when she ached for them, telling herself she had no place with them anymore.
But now…now that she would look them in the eyes again, she felt a tiny sense of freedom. No more running. At least for a moment.
“Now?” he said.
That question brought her crashing back to earth. “N-now?” she repeated.
“Now.” This time it was not a question.
“But…but…” She searched for a reason to put this off. “The seamstress! Mrs. Dayton said something about the seamstress coming.”
War shook his head. “We will reschedule it. This is more important, Claire. You know that.”
She could hardly breathe as she stared at him. There was no escaping this or putting it off anymore. The moment she’d feared was here and she was trapped.
“Yes,” she said at last. “Now.”
He took her hand and squeezed gently, but she hardly felt the act that was certainly meant to make her feel more at ease. She was too numb to fully register it.
“It will be all right, Claire,” he whispered.
But she didn’t believe him. She knew the truth. In the end, none of it was going to be all right.
War stared across the carriage toward Claire. She had been sitting stone-still, her hands clenched in her lap, gazing out the window for the entire ride. Her expression hadn’t changed, her posture hadn’t changed. It was as if she were frozen.
And that terrified him, because he didn’t understand it. She was afraid, that was clear. But what had brought her to this? And worse, would he regret pushing this course of action on her? For the first time, he wasn’t certain Claire was strong enough to bear whatever she would face when she met with her family at last.
The carriage slowed and turned into the gated drive of the townhouse Lady Woodley—Mrs. Gray now—had been living in while in London. Claire’s hands tightened further in her lap as she closed her eyes and sucked in a long, painful breath.
War reached across to touch her hand. “I’m here,” he whispered.
For a moment, she didn’t react. Finally, she opened her eyes and shrugged. “I know. But it won’t matter in the end.”
He squeezed her hand and waved away the servant who came to help her out. Instead, War got down from the carriage himself and took Claire’s arm. As she exited the vehicle, there was an instant reaction. The servants who had been with the Woodley clan for the longest all stopped and stared at her. There were gasps from the footmen who came to assist. They all exchanged shocked expressions that made Claire’s cheeks redden.
War ignored them. There was nothing else to do. He held tight to her and led her up the stone steps to the front door. It opened as they reached the top step and revealed the family’s butler, Mr. Vernon. The servant acknowledged War first, but then his gaze fell on Claire.
“L-Lady Claire,” he breathed, wobbling on his legs. “I-I—welcome home.”
She stiffened. “Thank you, Vernon,” she whispered. “But I am not home. I’m here to see Lady Woodley. Er, Mrs. Gray, I suppose she is now.”
“Yes, my lady,” Vernon said, still swinging on his feet like he would collapse. He cleared his throat. “The family is gathered in the parlor.”
Claire buckled slightly and War tightened his grip on her arm to keep her upright. “The family?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“Yes,” Vernon said, shooting War a glance. “Lord Gabriel and Lady Juliet had some news to tell the family and they all gathered here for luncheon. Shall I announce you?”
War pursed his lips. That would be proper, of course. And it would give the family some warning of what was about to happen. But to make Claire wait…that seemed cruel. He shook his head.
“It might be best for us to just join them, Vernon. Thank you,” War said softly.
The butler looked like he wanted to argue for a moment, to do his duty as he had been doing for decades. But he looked again at Claire’s pale face and nodded.
“As you wish, Mr. Blackwood,” he murmured, and backed from the foyer.
Claire stared down the long hallway that led to the parlor. Her expression was still blank, but she trembled in his arms. War leaned down and whispered, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
She turned her face toward his. “When this is done, you might want to.”
Then she pulled gently from his arms, patted his cheek and strode up the hallway. He followed her, amazed by how strong her stride was when he knew how afraid she was deep inside. She somehow found her courage to face her family. He admired that, even if he didn’t understand why she had to muster so much of it to meet with people who only loved her.
As they moved closer to the parlor door, War could hear the voices of the Woodley clan, raised in laughter and talking all at once. Occasionally, he could make out one sibling over the others, and every time the identity of the speaker was clear, Claire flinched. She reached the door and hesitated, listening to the happy din for a moment before she took a deep breath and opened the door.
There was a moment before anyone noticed her, and War watched her face. She stared at her family, gathered all together. Mrs. Gray stood beside her new husband, a smile on her face. Edward and Mary sat on a settee together, with Audrey standing behind them, leaning over them to talk. Audrey’s husband Jude was next to her, but facing the opposite direction, where he was talking to Evan. Evan’s wife Josie was at the sideboard, looking over the selection of cakes and biscuits that had been laid out there. Claire’s twin Gabriel had a drink in his hand and he was with his new wife, Juliet, who leaned up to say something to him that inspired a wide smile that was uncommon on the normally serious man’s face.
It was a flash of time, but Claire seemed to sink in on herself. They were there, close enough to touch, and yet the look on her face marked her as an outsider. He thought she might run, but the option was swiftly taken from her as Josie turned from the sideboard and looked toward the door.
War saw the recognition on Josie’s face. After all, she and Claire had been best friends for as long as they had been on the earth. And then Josie let out a shriek that silenced the room and sent them all staring in the same direction.
It seemed they all saw Claire at the same moment. The glass Gabriel was holding slipped from his fingers to shatter on the floor below. Mrs. Gray wavered, and her husband reached out to catch her just as she collapsed against him. Audrey straightened up, and her round, pregnant belly was now clear. She stepped back until she hit the wall, and Jude rushed to her, ushering her to a seat and urging her to sit down. Edward jumped to his feet and Mary got up with him, reaching for his hand.
But it was Evan who spoke first, moving toward the door in two long steps. “What the hell?” he croaked out, his voice cracking and his eyes wide. “Claire?”
Chapter Fifteen
Claire stared at the chaos before her. Once her brother Evan spoke to her, it see
med to break the spell. Now everyone was talking at once again, just as they had been when she opened the parlor door. Except their voices had changed. They were angry, upset. There were tears instead of smiles. She had done that, just by appearing here.
War had moved into the room while she stayed in the doorway and her brothers surrounded him, pointing and yelling while he raised his hands and tried to settle them all down.
There was only one person in the room whose attention was fully focused on her, and that was Mrs. Gray. It was hard to think of her as Mrs. Gray, but she was now, married for months to the rather handsome and studious man who stood at her side, his arm wrapped around her protectively.
Claire couldn’t help but stare back at her. Examining all the features of that beautiful face. The ones she had never shared. Slowly, Mrs. Gray extracted herself from her husband’s arms and began to move across the room. As she did, the yelling silenced, the tears quelled and everyone watched her.
Claire tensed as she neared, ready for anything. But Mrs. Gray’s arms came around her and she drew Claire against her for a firm hug. Claire couldn’t help it—her own arms closed tight and she clung, breathing in the familiar scents that had always comforted her, loving this woman fiercely and powerfully. Her mother.
Her eyes opened and she pulled away, turning her face to break the intense contact between them.
“Just how did you come to be the one to bring our sister here?” Edward asked War now that the moment had passed.
He was standing very close to War, and even though War was superior in size by several inches, Edward didn’t hesitate to poke a finger into his horse master’s broad chest.
Claire was happy for the distraction. She moved toward the men. “Leave him be, Edward,” she said. “War is here because I asked him to come with me. In truth, he is the only reason I’m here at all.”
“Why did you run away, Claire?” Mrs. Gray’s voice cut through her like a knife, and Claire spun to look at her again. She knew that look. A cross of pain and disappointment and yes, probably a bit of anger. She felt like a scolded child when she received that look.
Ruined Page 12
