When she finished, he said, “I was married once before. It lasted less than a year. She died of fever, and her family blamed me for not calling the physician sooner.”
“How could they blame you?”
“They needed someone to blame.” He stared into the fire. “Grief seeks a target. I was convenient.”
Clarara reached across the space between them and took his hand. His fingers closed around hers, warm and rough.
“I don’t blame you,” she said.
“I know,” he replied. “That is why you terrify me.”
—
The storm passed. The house settled. They began a strange dance—near each other but not touching, speaking but not demanding. He asked her opinion on estate matters. She asked him to teach her to ride. He showed her the observatory in the west tower, where a telescope pointed at a slice of sky.
“My father built this,” he told her. “He believed that looking up kept a man humble.”
“What do you believe?”
“I believe that looking up keeps a man hopeful.”
She looked through the lens at a cluster of stars he called the Seven Sisters. They glittered like frozen tears.
“The Pleiades,” she said. “In the old stories, they were daughters who were turned into stars to escape grief.”
He smiled faintly. “I prefer to think they were turned into stars so they would never be alone.”
The silver key hung from her chamber door, and Clarara began to realize that she had not used it to lock him out in weeks. She had simply forgotten to lock the door at all.
—
At dinner one evening, the Duke received a letter that changed the temperature of the room. Clarara watched his jaw tighten as he read, his knuckles whitening around the paper.
“What is it?”
He set the letter down. “My solicitor. The estate’s standing is… complicated.”
“How complicated?”
“Four hundred seventy-three thousand dollars in outstanding obligations.” His voice was flat. “Your father’s debts were only part of the problem. I inherited the rest from my predecessor, and I have been managing it poorly.”
Clarara set down her fork. “What does that mean?”
“It means that if something happened to me, you would inherit nothing but stone and silence.” He looked at her directly. “I will not allow that.”
“I didn’t marry you for money.”
“I know. That is precisely why I must ensure you are protected.”
He stood and walked to the window, his back to her. “There is a solution. An investment in the new rail lines running west. If it succeeds, the estate triples. If it fails—”
“If it fails?”
“Then Aldderon Hall becomes a memory.”
Clarara rose and crossed to him. She placed her hand on his arm. “Then we make sure it succeeds.”
He turned, surprised.
