An Inconvenient Arrangement

Chapter 40: Claire

It took five days for Claire to break.

Five days of barely holding on to her composure by sheer pride, only to break down into tears the moment she was alone. Of enduring silence from Elizabeth who had been her constant companion in the years that she had become a widow. Five days of not being able to sleep for every time she closed her eyes all she saw was the damned haunted, hurt look on James' face as she had hurled such unforgivable, poisonous words at him.

She had been cruel, so unforgivably awful that she wondered what the point of an apology would even be. She would break the oath she had made herself; to never leave herself at the mercy of a man, and for naught. All she had left was her pride; was she meant to sacrifice it only to find that even that costly measure did no good?

And yet, she could not help but think of his smiling face, his innate grace, his incredible perception in seeing the part of her that she hid behind these impenetrable defenses. The part of her that yearned for love and family, the part of her she got so used to denying that she did not dare trust James when he tried to unearth it.

She could not bear hurting him. She could not bear the fact that he had not come to a single event in these last five days even though he had been invited to two balls, one dinner, and a musicale. All because of her. Every time she thought of the wounded expression on his face, it felt as if someone twisted a knife in her gut and her heart.

And so she found herself sitting in a receiving room at a fashionable hour, her heart thundering against her ribs, feeling as though she may start vomiting any time soon. She nearly jumped out of her seat when the door opened, her heart freezing for a moment in anticipation. But the man who entered the room was not the one she was hoping to see.

"Lord Carlisle," she greeted, her breath just a touch shaky and her legs trembling with anxiety as she dipped into a curtsy.

"Lady Northhaven," he bowed stiffly, the mischievous, intelligent glint in his eyes she had seen at other times was completely gone. In its place was cold, unwavering contempt. Claire's bile rose up her throat, but she willed herself to speak.

"I had hoped to see your father-"

"I find your audacity astounding," he prowled closer, taking the seat across from her. Even in that motion, she saw his thinly veiled anger; his usual strolling, casual gait was now controlled and severe. "Ah, where are my manners, would you care for tea? Our cook makes the loveliest biscuits, I am sure she has some on hand."

The polite offer was basically spat at her, the Viscount's smile doing nothing to alleviate her anxiety. The expression was mocking and cruel instead of welcoming and Claire repressed a shudder when he casually crossed his legs at the ankles and dissected her with that unnervingly observant gaze.

She felt like a bird in a cage, and he a big black cat just waiting for someone to leave the door open so that he could rip her limb from limb.

"I find myself without appetite, you needn't trouble the cook. Is His Lordship unavailable? If so, I shall come at another time," Claire rallied her strength, her pride, and stared him down in return.

"He is out, as a matter of fact," the Viscount waved an arrogantly dismissive hand. "You've rather successfully run him off to lick his wounds, well done you."

Shame and anguish rocked through her, she lowered her eyes, unable to face the open loathing in Carlisle's expression.

"I came to offer my apologies. I am not proud of what happened that night. I may only learn when he is coming back, I would-"

"You would what, My Lady?" He sneered at her. "Do you truly imagine a polite apology will suddenly undo everything?"

"I would make amends in whichever way he should prefer," she said finally, still unable to lift her head. "If you would only let me see him, or tell me where he is gone. I ask merely for five minutes."