Wishing he could love her even a little bit, she ascended the steps.
Six years past, here is where I opened my eyes just enough to think it possible to awaken, she thought as she moved through the hall toward the stairs. Here is where I revealed Lady Beatrix was not alone in her suffering. Here is where Michael learned how much he wronged the lady with whom he was falling in love.
If not for Clarice and that Laura loved Michael and Beatrix well, she might have resided here rather than seek a husband. And likely would have remained half asleep the rest of her life.
She found Clarice sitting in the embrasure of a battlement that overlooked the inner bailey.
When the girl heard footsteps, she dropped her feet to the ground. “You are returned.”
Despite the cool reception, Laura did not slow her step. “Forgive me for being gone so long,” she said and wrapped her arms around her little girl and hugged her so near she sensed it was discomfort rather than distaste that made Clarice protest.
“Mother!” She strained backward, stilled when she saw Laura’s tears. “What is wrong? Do you not like the husband the queen chose?”
It was not Lothaire she was thinking of. It was that one whose face returned to her time and again whether awake or at sleep. The one she would have chosen for a husband. Thinking to save herself from pain and her daughter from the knowledge Lothaire could not wait to rid himself of another man’s child, Clarice would have been exposed to the perverse Lord Benton. Rather than secure a good future for the girl, Laura might have caused her to suffer a life worse than her mother's.
“I saw him, though I could see little of his face,” her daughter said, eyes moistening. “He is larger than Lord D’Arci. Is he a bad man?”
“Nay!” Laura dropped to her knees, gently gripped Clarice’s arms. “Baron Soames is a good man. He may not be of the affectionate sort, but he will protect you. His home will be our home. Our very own. You want that, do you not?”
The girl drew her lower lip between her teeth. “I wish us to live here with Lady Beatrix and Lord D’Arci.”
Laura momentarily closed her eyes. “I am to wed within a month, and where I go you go. You are my daughter.”
Clarice’s lower jaw jutted. “You say that because Lady Maude is gone, and now you must be a mother to me.”
Laura started to deny it, but it was the truth. Had Maude not died, she would not be awake. “I am sorry, Clarice. I know often I have been absent from your life, but I am present now and shall remain so.”
“How?” She pulled free. “You are to be a wife.”
Laura stood. “That does not mean I cannot be a mother.”
“What if I need you when he needs you?”
Laura did not know how to answer the question that revealed vulnerability often hidden behind the impression Clarice was older than her nine years. Or perhaps she did know. Lothaire had said he would be gone often. “Baron Soames is much occupied with the administration of his lands. We shall have plenty of time together.”
The girl thought on it, said, “Will he like me?”
Laura breathed down tears. “You will need time to become acquainted, but once you do, how could he not?”
Her evasive answer did not escape Clarice, who narrowed her eyes. “Does he like you?”
“He wishes to wed me.” More evasion.
Now her lids became slits. “Because the queen told him he should?”
Laura almost wished her daughter were still very little. Such questions she would not ask. She would be unconcerned about what Lothaire thought of her or her mother, confident he had no choice but to like them. “’Tis true the queen wished us to wed, but Lord Soames is quite agreeable.”
“What am I to call him?”
It felt as if someone pushed a needle into Laura’s heart. “Methinks Lord Soames is best.”
“Aye, for now. But when you are wed?”
Laura knew what she sought. Though Clarice had ceased asking for a father two years past, and Laura had prayed the man she wed would become that to her, it could never be. But Laura had no cause to mourn lost opportunity. Just as Lothaire could not be a father to Clarice, none of the other suitors would have been. Where her daughter was concerned, Lothaire was safe.
“What am I to call him when he is your husband?” Clarice repeated with annoyance.
“Once we are settled in our new home, we shall discuss that with Lord Soames.”
Color shot into Clarice’s cheeks. “He would rather you did not have a child.”
Another needle to the heart, this one going all the way through. “I vow he will come to care much for you,” she spoke what was only a dream. But the truth boded ill for Clarice’s first meeting with Lothaire which could forever mire their relationship.
Clarice looked as if she might fall into argument as she did often since her grandmother’s passing, but she seamed her mouth.
Lady Beatrix, Laura thought. Not only had she exerted a good motherly influence these weeks, but the lady must have prepared Clarice for Laura’s return and the man who would accompany her.
“I should meet him now?” she asked.
“If you wish. Or later, ere supper.”
“We leave on the morrow?”
“We do.”
“Then let us be done with it now.” Clarice led the way across the roof, down the stairs, and into the hall.
Lothaire was seated before the hearth opposite Michael, Lady Beatrix standing alongside her husband. He leaned back in the chair, a tankard in hand, legs thrust out before him, one ankle atop the other. It surprised that he looked at leisure—as if he were amongst friends. Ironically, he could be had what happened ten years past not. Michael’s half brother had been her childhood friend, but ever she had adored Maude’s second stepson, and he had been fond of her.
Was this Lothaire’s way of showing indifference to his hosts? Worse, Laura’s daughter? It must be, and it nearly made her snatch Clarice back up the stairs. However, the moment Lothaire caught sight of what softly slippered feet did not sooner reveal, he drew his legs in, set the tankard aside, and stood.
Laura released her breath. Were he willing to make an effort to hide what he felt about the greatest evidence of his cuckoldry, there was hope Clarice would not know how little she was wanted.
Drawing alongside her daughter who had preceded her off the stairs, Laura sought Lothaire’s regard. But his was upon Clarice, and so intently she wondered what he searched for. The one who had fathered her? Her disposition that he had said was all that mattered for how it affected his household? Or did he steel himself for the introduction to one it could not be easy to look upon?