Page 17 of A Christmas Miracle for the Frosty Marquess
As he escorted Clara back to her parents, he maintained the distance that had been present throughout the dance. His touch was cool and professional, and he prayed that his expression wasn’t betraying any of the tumult within.
“Thank you, Clara,” he said, holding tightly to his practiced politeness. “That was a lovey dance, to be sure.”
Clara nodded, her eyes searching his for a moment longer than was customary, as if trying to decipher his thoughts and feelings. But Julian averted his gaze, masking his unwillingness to let her keep searching him with a bow to her parents.
“It was delightful,” she said, the confusion and nervousness clear as she spoke. Part of him wanted to offer her some reassurance. But the bigger part of him wanted to flee the ballroom—nay, the mansion—and never look back.
Once safely ensconced within the crowd, the weight of the memories and his brand-new betrothal bore down on Julian. The ghostly echoes of his mother’s laughter, the unyielding expectations of his father, and the unexpected warmth of Clara’s touch collided within him like a cyclone and a sandstorm all at once. He knew that he had to do whatever it took to keep the walls around his heart fortified. To let someone into his life and his heart was a vulnerability he was not yet prepared to face. Not even someone as beautiful and innocently enchanting as Clara.
Chapter Seven
As the other guests danced, Clara’s mind drifted back to her dance with Julian. She remembered the way his warm hand felt against the small of her back, the assuredness in his steps, and most vividly, the intensity of his gaze. In the midst of their dance, there had been a fleeting instance when their eyes met without either of them looking away, and she caught a spark of emotion in Julian’s eyes. But as quickly as it appeared, he had seemed to have masked it, returning to his original cold temperament.
Lost in thought, she almost didn’t hear the butler’s voice, crisp and clear.
“Dinner is to be served,” he said.
Out of habit, Clara started to follow her parents like an obedient child at a fair. But Julian appeared, offering her his arm with the same tight smile he had had when he approached her after the announcement of their betrothal.
“May I escort you to dinner?” he asked.
Clara gave him a small smile in return, sadness filling her heart. It was every young lady’s dream to have a handsome gentleman offer to escort them to a meal or ask her to dance with them. But she knew that Julian was only asking out of a sense of obligation and societal expectations. Still, she knew she needed to make the best of it. Both her family and his were expecting that of both of them. She would just have to sort through her feelings later.
“I would be delighted,” she said.
As the guests began to move toward the table, she noticed the seating arrangements. None to her surprise, but with plenty of trepidation, Clara found herself positioned beside Julian. The subtle glances from the guests and the renewed murmured congratulations made it evident that their proximity was an unspoken affirmation of their newly announced betrothal.
She took a deep breath, the scent of roasted meats and decadent sauces swarming her senses, but it was the man beside her who consumed her thoughts. She turned slightly to face him, the rustle of her silk gown the only sound between them. He pulled out her chair wordlessly, reaching for her wine glass. She dared to hope that with the two of them sitting side by side, it might be a chance for a little conversation.
However, he merely reached silently for her wine glass after his own was filled and holding it up for the servant to fill. She looked at him gratefully, to which he nodded once and raised his own. He didn’t offer a toast, but he didn’t need to. She joined him in a hearty drink, glad for the possibility that her nerves might be eased a little by the drink.
Unable to bear the tension any longer, especially with people beginning to look at the two of them expectantly, Clara cleared her throat.
“You certainly look very dashing this evening,” she said, wincing inwardly at the poorly and awkwardly timed compliment.
And yet, it seemed to catch Julian off guard just enough to give her a brief smile.
“Thank you, Clara,” he said. “And you look lovely.”
Clara blushed. She felt sure he was only being polite by returning her compliment. But something about him saying the words made her feel shy.
“You are very kind,” she said.
Their conversation was punctuated by polite interjections and the chatter of other guests. And yet, beneath the surrounding conversations, a current of anticipation and tension ran. She knew that they were both aware of, and likely dwelling on, what awaited them. And she was surer than ever that Julian was very unhappy about the prospect of marrying her. She was supposed to allow him to lead the conversation. But she couldn’t let the evening progress with as much awkwardness as was in that moment.
She took a deep breath, the weight of the silence between them growing heavier by the second. Every delicate chink of cutlery on porcelain seemed amplified, echoing her own heartbeat in her ears. The candlelight illuminated Julian’s sharp profile, casting a soft shadow over the set line of his jaw. She needed to speak, to break the stifling quiet, even if she risked misstep.
“I understand that our wedding day is to take place after Christmastide,” she said, her voice quivering. “There is much we need to discuss, is there not?”
Julian paused, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around the stem of his wine glass. Without meeting her gaze, his jaw twitched.
“It was my father’s decision,” he said. “I understand that he is seeing to the details.”
She felt a sting of surprise. It hurt her that Julian was trying to shut down such an important conversation. He was not the only one finding themselves unwillingly in the situation before them. Gathering her courage, she gently pressed.
“But Julian, surely you must have some thoughts or feelings on the matter?” she asked. “We are to be wed, after all. It’s all right to tell me your thoughts. We know each other well enough to be honest, do we not?”
His gaze met hers at last, and the return of the coldness in his eyes took her aback.
