Page 15 of A Christmas Miracle for the Frosty Marquess
Hannah reached out and touched her arm, her eyes filled with contrition.
“Oh, darling, I am sorry,” she said. “I was very thoughtless with my words. I shouldn’t have brought up the duchess at a time when you are struggling so with what lies ahead.”
Clara shook her head, putting her own hand over Hannah’s.
“Not at all,” she said. “You said something very sweet and humbling. And you’ve given me something to think about. I just feel terrible that Julian has suffered so. He was a dear friend once, after all. I wish he had never had to experience such a loss.”
Mary nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes.
“He’s been through so much,” she said. “But perhaps, with time and love, he might find his way back, like Mother said.”
Clara took a deep breath, bolstered by Mary’s words.
“I can only hope,” she whispered, marveling at the fragile tendrils of optimism that began to sprout within her heart.
***
Later that afternoon, Clara dragged herself into her chambers, where Barbara waited with her blue gown. She allowed her lady’s maid to help her into the dress, and to style her hair in tight ringlets that were piled on top of her head with hairpins and a silver and diamond tiara. As she looked at herself in the mirror, her heart sank. The announcement of a lady’s betrothal was supposed to be one of the happiest times in her life. Yet, as she stared at her reflection, all she felt was increasing apprehension.
Her father was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He smiled at her as he offered his free arm, with her mother at his other side.
“You look so lovely, my dear,” he said.
The countess leaned around her husband to kiss her daughter on the cheek.
“You are so beautiful, sweetheart,” she said. “You are sure to win Julian’s heart immediately.”
Clara tried to smile, but the best she could do was a brief twitch of her lips. Wordlessly, she let her parents lead her out of their home and to the waiting coach. She was just as silent on the trip to Thornmire Manor, her stomach revolting against the evening ahead. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for what was to come.
The grand carriages of other ton members lined the front of Thornmire Manor when the Bennett family arrived, their polished coaches gleaming in the twilight. Clara, taking a deep breath to calm herself, alighted from her family’s carriage. The rustle of her gown, the weight of her anticipation, and the gentle clasp of her mother’s arm were all grounding for her, allowing her to find enough of her nerve to hold her head high. Her heart, however, sat low in her stomach. And her dread built with each step her family and she took toward the mansion.
Julian’s sister, Elizabeth, wearing a shimmering pink gown that highlighted her slender figure, was the first to greet them.
“Lord and Lady Berrington,” she said with a wide smile, dipping into a curtsy. “Welcome to Thornmire Manor. We’ve eagerly awaited your arrival.” She paused to kiss Clara on both cheeks and give her a warm smile. “It is lovely to see you again.”
Clara returned her future sister-in-law’s smile with only slightly more enthusiasm than the one she had given her parents.
“It is lovely to see you as well, Elizabeth,” she said.
Elizabeth patted her gently on her arm, her smile remaining sweet and kind. She knew Elizabeth less than she knew Julian, as Elizabeth was older than Julian and her. But the woman had never been anything but kind to Clara, and her presence helped ease a little of her nerves.
As Clara and her parents exchanged pleasantries with Elizabeth, they were soon joined by Stephen, Elizabeth’s husband, and the duke, both immaculately dressed in gray and dark green suits, respectively. Their faces were painted with warm smiles, and more greetings were exchanged, but Clara barely registered them, her mind already wandering towards the grand ballroom.
Escorted by her parents, Clara stepped through the entryway, pausing for a moment to take in the lavishness before her. The ballroom boasted towering columns with gold leaf decorations, interlacing with one another. Crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, scattering light across the room. Luxurious draperies in rich shades of blue and gold framed all the windows, through which the dying light of day filtered. Beneath her feet was a marble floor so immaculately polished that she could see the reflections of the other attending guests.
The room was abuzz with chattering voices, laughter, and the soft strains of a string quartet warming up in the corner. Guests in their finest attire moved elegantly through the room, partaking of the spread of refreshments the likes of which Clara had never seen at any ton event and seeking out friends and acquaintances.
Yet, in the midst of this splendid chaos, Clara’s gaze was irresistibly drawn to a quiet corner. There, bathed in the muted glow of a wall sconce, stood Julian. His tailored coat and crisp cravat, very closely matching the color of her dress, accentuated his tall, commanding presence. But what captured Clara’s attention most was the expression on his face. It was a mix of contemplation and brooding intensity. And yet, as she looked at him, her heart rose just enough to skip. Despite his clear displeasure, she could not deny that he was handsome. Even more so than she remembered from the days when she had thought she loved him.
Beside him, his cousin, Thomas, engaged him in what appeared to be a serious conversation. She was preparing to avert her gaze and wait for him to approach her before acknowledging him when he looked up from his cousin and locked eyes with her. It was a look that was far from warm. In fact, his stare was cold and piercing, sending a shiver down her spine.
The moment didn’t last long before it was interrupted. The duke of Thornmire hailed for the attention of all the ball guests, smiling warmly at the crowd. He proclaimed that he had news to announce, and Clara tried to swallow through her suddenly dry throat.This is it,she realized, her heart dropping again.This is the beginning of the rest of my life. And, I fear, the worst.
Chapter Six
In the midst of all the glamour and clamour of the ballroom, Julian stood detached in a corner that offered him the closest thing to the solitude he so desperately craved. His dark suit, crisp and well-tailored, only altered his outward self. Inside, he was still just as resentful and reluctant for the circumstances which had led to the ball.
His attention was, at least in appearance, on the man beside him. Thomas was enthusiastically relating some tale of his latest travels.
