A tiny, conspiratorial smile passed between them.
Julian found himself irrationally annoyed.
He had spent the entire afternoon thinking about their extraordinary first meeting, while Clara appeared to have acquired allies in his household within a matter of hours.
When Bess returned to remove the plates, Julian addressed her.
“Bess.”
The maid stopped.
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Have you been assisting Miss Langley?”
Bess looked at Clara.
“Only a little, sir.”
“By lending her your apron?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“And your cap?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“And encouraging her to deceive me?”
Bess swallowed.
Clara spoke immediately.
“That was entirely my idea.”
Julian raised a hand.
“I am aware.”
Bess looked between them.
Then, gathering her courage, she said, “If it pleases Your Grace, I did tell Miss Langley you were in a dreadful temper.”
Lady Honoria lowered her fork.
Julian stared at the maid.
“And?”
Bess drew a breath.
“And she wished to discover whether I was mistaken.”
There was a pause.
Julian leaned back.
“And was she satisfied?”
Bess looked toward Clara once more.
Clara was visibly struggling not to smile.
“Well, Your Grace,” Bess said carefully, “she did not say.”
Lady Honoria burst into laughter.
Even Julian surrendered.
“Very well, Bess. You may go.”
The maid curtsied and escaped.
Clara watched her leave.
“She is clever.”
“She is troublesome.”
“Those qualities frequently accompany one another.”
“So I am discovering.”
Their eyes met across the table.
Something warm and unexpected passed between them.
It lasted only an instant.
Then Lady Honoria spoke again.
“Miss Langley, I trust your wedding gown has been ordered.”
The warmth vanished.
Clara looked down.
“No, my lady.”
Lady Honoria seemed astonished.
“No?”
“I thought it prudent to meet the gentleman before purchasing the gown.”
Julian set down his glass.
Lady Honoria looked from one to the other.
“But the arrangements are nearly complete.”
“Arrangements may be altered,” Clara replied gently.
The older woman frowned.
“Your father and Julian's family understood one another perfectly.”
“My father died before these negotiations began.”
“Sir Edmund has represented his wishes.”
“Sir Edmund has represented a great many things.”
Julian heard the change in her voice.
Lady Honoria did not.
“Nevertheless, you must understand that a marriage of this consequence cannot be approached with the carelessness of a village courtship.”
Clara looked directly at her.
“I understand its consequence very well, my lady. That is why I will not enter it carelessly.”
For a moment, Lady Honoria seemed prepared to object.
Then she looked at Julian.
“Have you nothing to say?”
He considered Clara.
The old answer would have been easy.
He might have spoken of duty, propriety, family expectation, and the importance of maintaining a respectable arrangement.
Instead, he remembered Mrs. Beale weeping beneath a leaking roof.
He remembered the cold schoolhouse.
And he remembered the two signatures forged upon a document neither of them had approved.
“Miss Langley is correct,” he said.