"You have known me for less than a day," he said, "and in less than a day, I have watched your brother dismiss knowledge he depends upon, Caro mock a woman cleverer than he is, and an entire dining room treat your presence as accidental." His voice lowered. "I am beginning to suspect very little about you is accidental."
Clara's throat tightened. Praise usually embarrassed her. This did not feel like praise. It felt worse. It felt like recognition.
Nathaniel returned the papers exactly as he had found them. "What do you intend to do?"
"Go home. Examine the ledgers before Edward can prevent me. And if the debt is beyond repair, then I will find out what he pledged."
Nathaniel's gaze sharpened. "You think he pledged something without telling you?"
"I think my brother has been unusually interested in Lord Pembroke's approval."
The door opened abruptly. Edward stood there, his face pale with anger. His eyes dropped to the portfolio between them. "Clara."
She straightened. "Edward. His Grace and I were discussing estate management."
Nathaniel's tone was mild. "Were you? Your sister has unusual ability."
"Clara exaggerates her involvement."
Nathaniel's eyes cooled. "Does she?"
Edward stepped into the room. "Our affairs are private."
"Then perhaps you should stop discussing imaginary prosperity at dinner."
Clara closed her eyes briefly. "Nathaniel."
Both men went still. It was the first time she had used his given name. She had not meant to. Nathaniel looked at her, and the anger in his face changed into something quieter. Edward noticed that too.
"Clara," he said slowly. "May I speak with you alone?"
Nathaniel waited until she nodded, then left without argument.
The moment the door shut, Edward crossed the room. "You will stay away from Ashborne."
Clara stared at him. "Why?"
"Because you don't understand what you are interfering with."
"Then explain it." His silence answered too much. Clara placed the creditor's letter on the desk. "Thirty days, Edward. What did you promise Pembroke?"
Edward's face drained of color. "Where did you get that?"
"What did you promise him?"
The fire gave a sudden crack behind them. Edward looked toward the closed door Nathaniel had just passed through, then back at his sister. "Not what," he said quietly. "Who."
"Who?" Clara asked.
Edward's eyes shifted away. "Pembroke is considering an arrangement."
"With whom? You know perfectly well."
For several seconds she heard only the rain and the small hiss of damp wood in the grate. Edward rubbed a hand over his mouth.
"He is wealthy, widowed, respectable, and nearly 60. That hardly makes him unsuitable."
"No. Offering your sister to a creditor without asking her does."
"Nothing has been signed yet." Edward's silence confirmed it.
"How much does he know about the debt?"
"Enough."
"And what does he receive if he helps you?"
"Security against the estate. Favorable terms and... and me."
Edward's voice hardened. "You are 31, Clara. You cannot behave as though proposals will continue indefinitely."
The cruelty was casual, almost practical. That made it worse. She looked at the man whose correspondence she had answered, whose tenants she had protected, whose mistakes she had quietly repaired.
"You should leave, Clara, before I say something neither of us can pretend I did not." Edward hesitated, then walked out.
Clara remained beside the desk until the door clicked shut. Only then did her fingers begin to tremble. She pressed them flat against the leather portfolio.
At luncheon, she spoke little. Nathaniel sat three places away and never once asked what Edward had said. Yet when Clara looked up, she found his gray eyes on her, not demanding, waiting.
That evening, Lady Hartwell arranged music in the drawing room. Clara escaped to the conservatory where rain whispered against the glass roof and orange trees scented the cool air.
"You have developed a habit of finding quiet rooms," Nathaniel said behind her.
Clara did not turn. "You have developed a habit of following me into them. Should I leave?"
She considered the question. "No."
He came to stand beside her, leaving a careful distance between them. For a while, they watched rain thread down the panes.
"You called me Nathaniel this morning," he said.
Clara closed her eyes. "I hoped you had forgotten."
"I have an excellent memory. Another flaw in your character."
"One of many."
The corner of her mouth moved. Nathaniel noticed but mercifully said nothing.
"Your brother upset you."
"That is not difficult."
"No," he paused, "but this was different."
Clara looked toward the dark garden. "Why do you keep noticing things?"
"Because everyone else appears determined not to."
The answer stripped away her prepared defenses. She turned toward him. "And why does that matter to you?"
Nathaniel's gaze rested on her face. "I don't know yet."
No practiced charm, no declaration. The uncertainty made the words more intimate. Clara looked away first.
"People say you are cruel."
"People say many useful things when they want to avoid discussing what actually happened."
"What did happen?"
Nathaniel's expression changed. He rested one hand on the stone ledge. "My uncle used money from a charitable trust to cover private debts. My family wanted the matter handled quietly."