The Scot's Secret - Cecelia Mecca Page 0,48
ourselves from it all as much as possible. She offered the majority of Caiser’s southern holdings back to the crown as an appeasement for breaking her betrothal, but we have Kenshire, and it is enough.”
Alex stood and walked toward their horses. “It seems every man I know has grown soft with love for a woman.” Geoffrey’s emotions were evident when he talked about Lady Sara.
“Not everyone,” Geoffrey commented, looking pointedly at him.
Alex wasn’t so sure.
Alex was gone, and unless she wanted to don her pins and hat and search for a way to disguise her face, Clara was a virtual prisoner in her bedchamber. She woke to a tray of food by her bedside, which she imagined the countess had likely left for her while she slept.
“May I come in?”
Without Alex by her side, Clara had awoken not once but twice in the night. When she finally rose from bed, she was embarrassed by the lateness of the hour. It was unlike her.
“Of course,” she answered the beautiful woman peering through a crack in the door.
Dressed in a simple, bright yellow gown embroidered with tiny navy blue flowers along the cuffs of the sleeves, Sara exuded confidence and glowed with the joy of impending motherhood.
Sara’s hand slipped to her stomach. She must have seen Clara’s eyes move there.
“I fear I can’t stop touching it,” she said. “The babe will come this winter, and ’tis none too soon. I can’t wait to meet her. Or him.”
Her smile was infectious.
Sitting up in the bed, Clara gestured to the untouched food. “You’ve been so kind,” she started.
Sara sat in the chair next to her, the same one Alex had occupied the evening before.
“Catrina wrote to me,” she said. “Before I knew you were coming.”
So that explained it.
“She told me you had gone missing, and that her brother was upset. She also told me that Lady Juliette had discovered your secret and was quite concerned for your welfare.”
“Which is how you already knew when I arrived.”
“I like to believe I would have discovered it on my own,” she shrugged. “But, aye, I already knew.”
“Lady Catrina and Lady Juliette are both very kind.”
She nodded. “I haven’t yet had the good fortune to meet Toren’s new wife, but Catrina is dear to me. You must be hungry, the hour grows quite late.”
Clara felt her cheeks grow warm.
“I am normally an early riser and cannot remember—”
“Eat,” Sara said, picking up a small knife. “There’s no need for apologies.”
Clara peered out the window slit, surprised to see how high the sun had risen. She returned to the table and sat across from Sara.
“This is a beautiful chamber. I’ve yet to see much of Kenshire but—”
“Let me show it to you!”
Clara looked at her hat.
“Nay, not as Alfred. As yourself.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t possibly—”
“You could. No one will question it.”
Clara looked up.
“If not as yourself, then at least as my guest.”
“I could not possibly—”
“Clara,” Sara’s tone was soft but firm. “None will know your identity. I myself don’t know why you’re dressed as a lad. But I do know that if I had to don that hideous. . .”
Her voice trailed off.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Nay,” Clara interrupted. “It is I who am sorry. Arriving here, forcing you to serve me just so that I may remain in hiding.” She owed Sara for her kindness. “You don’t believe anyone will suspect?”
Sara’s face brightened. “Geoffrey’s sister will return any moment from an extended stay with my dear friend Gillian. We will celebrate her return, and I’ll say you’ve come home with her. Leave the details to me.”
Though it sounded divine, Clara was terrified of the prospect of showing herself to anyone, save Alex.
He was different.
But clearly Lady Sara would not betray her. How could she? None knew that she was the daughter of the disgraced lord of Barrington, whose only crime had been choosing the losing side in the bloody baron’s war.
Non ducor, duco.
Her father followed their family motto in earnest and had been killed for it.
A thought occurred to her. “Even if I wanted to—”
Sara bounded up from her chair, moved to the trunk at the foot of the canopied bed, and tossed open the lid.
“Here,” she smiled, pointing to its contents.
Clara pushed her chair back and walked toward the trunk. She noticed the elaborate carvings first, the heavy lock that was more ornamental than practical, and finally. . .
She gasped. “How did you know—”
“Well, you can’t very well present yourself as Lady Clara in that,” she said.
Lady Clara. It