Page 49 of A Christmas Miracle for the Frosty Marquess
“We could always take turns napping there,” he said. “But there’s no way I could sleep now.”
Thomas nodded slowly, inspecting the couch before collapsing onto it.
“Well, just wake me when you feel ready for sleep,” he said. “I will be happy to take over keeping watch.”
Julian nodded.
“I will,” he said.
As Thomas settled in on the couch, Julian found an unsteady but solid stool by the window on their side of the partition. He sat down, staring out the window at the fresh snow that was just beginning to fall. He was grateful that they had returned when they did, and he hoped that the physician made it to safety before the snow started.
He also thought about Clara. She had been visibly devastated by Agnes’s condition, but she had performed flawlessly with the children, despite her worry. She had comforted Agnes, and she was conducting herself calmly, even in the face of such a terrible situation. Not for the first time, he thought about how she often reminded him of his mother. He could not deny that she would make a wonderful marchioness, and an equally amazing duchess, when he took over the dukedom of Thornmire. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that she was, indeed, a workable choice for a wife for him.
***
As the first tendrils of dawn light filtered through the muslin curtains, Julian felt a tap on his shoulder. Thomas stood behind him, looking sleepily at him, giving him a tired smile.
“I believe it’s your turn,” he said.
Julian rose from the stool, amazed that he had sat there all night long. He stretched his stiff muscles, offering his cousin the stool.
“Thank you, Cousin,” he said.
Thomas tipped an imaginary hat.
“My pleasure,” he said.
Battered by the previous night’s harrowing events, Julian surprisingly found solace on the aged couch. Its worn cushions and plush fabric enveloped his weary form in a familiar embrace. Despite the lines etched deeply into his face and the shadows under his eyes that betrayed fatigue, his mind was a bastion of alertness, refusing to succumb to sleep. He took a deep breath, the soft scent of lavender and aged wood filling his lungs, grounding him in the present moment.
On the other side of a thin, slightly frayed partition, he could hear the muted voices of Clara, Mary, and the two older children. Their hushed whispers and the gentle tinkle of laughter painted a scene of domestic bliss and comfort. It was almost impossible to believe that these were the same people who had faced dire adversity only hours ago. Amidst them, he could hear Clara clearly. Her words were indistinct, but the tone was unmistakable. It was filled with reassurance, love, and enduring hope.
She is remarkable,Julian mused again. Her resilience, her ability to keep the family together, and most of all, her inherent strength in adversity.
A soft chuckle from Clara reached his ears, pulling him from his thoughts. Julian closed his eyes, letting the tranquility she exuded wash over him. For a moment, the troubles of the world seemed distant, the pain of the night before a faint echo. All that mattered was the here and now, the bond he was beginning to feel they were creating with one another. He leaned back further into the couch, allowing himself to be momentarily cocooned in the serenity of the moment.
In the stillness of the room, Julian was an island of introspection amidst the hushed sea of occupants. His thoughts had carried him far away, to a realm where the burdens of the world were his alone to bear. It was a solitude he was accustomed to, one where he could gather his thoughts and fortify himself against the relentless march of time and duty.
But that solitude was gently shattered as Clara, with an elegance that seemed almost ethereal, disentangled herself from the group on the other side of the partition and stepped toward him. The soft rustle of her gown and the faint scent of roses preceded her. He glanced up, his gaze locking with hers.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, worried that there had been a sudden change in Agnes’s condition while he had been lingering in between sleep and wakefulness.
Clara nodded, giving him a small smile as she approached the couch.
“Yes,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Well, there has been no change for the worse. I just wanted to tell you that I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done, for braving the bitter cold to fetch the physician.” Her words were simple, but their weight was immeasurable. It was as if she had peeled back the layers of his fortified heart, touching a part of him that few had ever reached.
For a moment, Julian was at a loss for words, the intensity of her gaze holding him captive. When their eyes met, he saw his own feelings reflected at him. It ignited something within him, a spark that danced in the vast emptiness he had long resigned himself to.
Two heartbeats passed in silent contemplation. And then, moved by an impulse he couldn’t quite understand, Julian extended his hand, reaching for Clara’s. Tentatively, their fingers intertwined, the warmth of her touch contrasting with the coldness that had settled within him for so long.
Words were superfluous in that instant. Their shared gaze spoke volumes. There was a deep, silent understanding that bridged the gap between them and confirmed his ideas of the bond he felt forming with Clara. It was a communion of souls, a recognition of kindred spirits, and a promise of something more. Clara, who had once been a mere shadow, a decision borne from the expectations of their lineage, had blossomed in his eyes. She was no longer just his friend, or the woman his father chose for him to wed. Now, she was the very essence that had melted the frost around his heart.
“I would do it a hundred times over,” he said. “I am merely glad that I was able to help Agnes in time.”
Clara nodded, her cheeks pinkening as Julian gently caressed her hand with his thumb.
“As am I,” she said.
As he looked at her, he realized that he did understand what was happening. It was hard to believe, and yet he knew it to be true as soon as understanding cleared his mind. His heart, which for so long had been shrouded in the fog of grief and loss, seemed to beat more vibrantly in his chest. That ghost of his past, the shadow that had long cast its gloom over his life, didn’t simply vanish. But in the light of this newfound revelation, it shifted, making room for the possibility of love and hope. Julian hadn’t thought himself worthy of such things. But in Clara’s eyes, he saw that she believed he was, and that she longed to give those things to him.
