Page 89 of Trade of a Lifetime (Trade Wind 1)

The tension of the last week evaporated as he inhaled in her scent.

∞∞∞

Friends.

Luxuriating in James’s arms, the word brought joy and disbelief as Clara mulled it over.

She wasfriendswith Stella. Beatrice, Marchioness of Candleton, was herfriend.

James and I laugh together, don’t we? Humor is a foundation of friendship. Friends wish each other well. Are generous to each other.

Further convincing herself, she thought of how she’d enjoyed visits to the Sultan Hammam with her friend Stella, and now once with James.

What’s next? Invite James to the Lilac Room?she thought absurdly.

Clara’s hands tightened in James’s shirt, remembering their visit to the hammam. It had been against her better judgment to meet him in broad daylight, darting in a hooded cloak from her carriage to the front door of the hammam.

Danger,her body had told her when James confirmed that he’d successfully arranged to book the facility for an afternoon for his private use. Beyond the fear of discovery, she knew that yet another visit outside the walls of his mansion risked something even greater--sentimental entanglement.

And her suspicions had been confirmed, even if she had no regrets.

Every time James discovered something about her and delighted in it, she found it increasingly difficult to stuff down that part of her again.

James hadn’t been disgusted when her shift had dampened in the Tepidarium, or all but soaked in the Caldarium.

When Clara stood beneath the dome as the sun shone through—and the stained-glass star beamed rays of sapphire, emerald, and ruby onto her shift—she gasped and sputtered, overwhelmed by the vibrance.

James hadn’t shushed her, hadn’t stifled her, hadn’t even tried to calm her. Instead, he’d held her hand, stood with her for as long as she wanted, tears streaming down her face.

Friends?she wondered again.

Such a status, even if secret, did reassure her—it confirmed that James, too, enjoyed their time out of the sheets as well as in between.

He was here holding her now, wasn’t he? With no possibility of bodily congress?

“Come with me out of town,” James murmured.

The request was so out of context that Clara had to think for a moment. As soon as she understood his words, she imagined the two of them in a bright patch of sunshine next to a stream. James sat on a blanket stroking the tendrils at her temple, as he did now; only in her scene, her head rested on his lap.

Oh! This was even more dangerous than an orangery! Or a hammam!

“I cannot.” Her voice was bleak but resolute.

“You couldn’t come to my house, either. But you did.” He spoke encouragingly, quietly, not mockingly. “Simply visit one of my houses outside of London.”

She shook her head. “It’s one thing to spend a night away and return home at dawn. How can I disappear for longer?”

“You must leave London. All of your kind do, escaping to the country for at least the summer. London reeks most in the heat.”

“Yes, I leave town on occasion. But not frequently.” Her mind went to her commitments to the LLS, which tied her to London.

Friends.What would her friend James think of Violet House and her work there?

His finger traced the shell of her ear. “You didn’t grow up in London. Why do you live here and not some cleaner, more pleasant place?”

“Aunt Violet relied on the physicians in town. When we visited the country, I couldn’t stand it for long. It felt so empty without my parents. When I’ve gone back to Anterleigh, it’s…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “I love that place but it hurts. When Violet passed, I tried living on one of the smaller estates, closer to London. But it was…”

She paused. It had been lonely.

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