CHAPTER 5

Fleet shook his head. “The answer is still no, I am afraid.”

“Why?” Clara felt indignant.

“Because, my very dear Miss Davencourt, it would not serve,” Fleet said. “You may not have realized it— “he turned toward her and his knee brushed against hers “—but I am behaving very much against type in refusing your request. Your average rake would accept, with no intention of keeping matters theoretical and every intention of seducing you.”

Clara looked at him skeptically. “You actually claim to be acting from honorable motives?”

“The very purest, I assure you. But then, I am no average rake.”

Clara did not need to be told. Sebastian Fleet was not average in any way. The languid arrogance, the dangerous edge, the sheer masculine power of him—all of these things made him exceptional. She shivered deep within her cloak.

To ask him help her had been a reckless idea from the first; she recognized that. But her need had been genuine. She had been under siege and she was tired of it. She was also very stubborn.

“Can’t I not persuade you otherwise?” she begged. “I am not asking you to escort me about town, merely to tell me those dangerous behaviors to guard against.”

She saw him shake his head decisively.

“To do so would be extremely perilous, Miss Davencourt. I might forget I was a gentleman and a friend of your brother and act on instinct. And I do not mean a paternal Instinct.”

Clara looked into his eyes. The instinct was there, masculine, primitive, wholly dangerous. She felt her sense spin under the impact of his gaze. She knew that he wanted to kiss her. Right here. Right now. He had never pretended he did not find her attractive. She knew that had their circumstances been different he would have been tried to seduce her without a qualm.

He had been ruthlessly open with her in the past, telling her he intended never to marry, did not wish for the responsibility, and that he was incapable of being faithful. It had been her disillusion and disappointment that had led her to rail at him for not being the man she had wanted him to be. And now he was rejecting her again, albeit for a very different proposal, and once again she could recognize his reasons and even appreciate them, in a way.

She cleared her throat and made a little gesture of acceptance. “Very well. I understand what you are saying and... I admire your honesty.”

His eyes opened wider with surprise and then, echoing her thoughts, he said, “it is no difficulty to admit I find you very attractive, Miss Davencourt. I would have the most dishonorable intentions toward you if matters had fallen out differently.”

He sighed, picked up the reins and gave the horses a curt word of encouragement. The curricle picked up speed.

It was a moment or two before Fleet broke the slightly uncomfortable silence between them. “Do you truly intend never to marry?”

Clara raised her brows. “I cannot say never, but for now I am very happy as I am.”

“It would be a tragic waste for you to remain single.”

Clara felt a sharp stab of anger then that he could appreciate the qualities that might make her a good wife—for someone else.

“I doubt you are a good judge of that,” she said. The words came out more sharply than she had intended and, although his face did not register any emotion, she sensed he was hurt. He did not pursue the point, however, and once again a silence fell.

She was on the point of apologizing when he said abruptly, “You are genuinely happy as you are?” There was an odd note in his voice. “By which I mean to ask if you truly have everything you wish for?”

Clara ignored the small voice that told her she had everything she wished for except him.

“Of course,” she said firmly. “I have my family and friends and plenty to occupy myself. I am very happy.” She fixed him with a direct look.

“Aren’t you?”

She saw him hesitate. “Not Precisely. Happiness is a very acute sensation. I suppose you could say I am content.”

“Content.” Clara thought about it. There was a comfortable feeling to the word but no high excitement about it. “That is good.”

“It is good enough, certainly.” Fleet had turned his face away from hers and as a result she could not read his expression. He was difficult to read at the best of times, with that bland blue gaze and those open features. He appeared to be straightforward when in fact the reverse was true. Frustration stirred in her at how opaque he was, how difficult to reach. But then she had no reason to try to reach him. She had tried before and been rebuffed. She reminded herself that no one ever got close to the Duke of Fleet. This difficult friendship was as good as she would get. She had to decide whether it was worth it or not.

“If your rakes and fortune hunters are causing such a problem, I would suggest that you appeal to your sister-in-law, Lady Juliana, for help,” Fleet said, breaking into her thoughts. “I doubt there is a rake in town who can out-maneuver her.”

Clara shook her head sadly. “That would be the ideal solution but Juliana is entirely engrossed with the babies at present. That was really why I contacted you. We are to go to Davencourt for Christmas in a couple of weeks, but until then I imagine I am very much left to fend for myself.”

“With the help of the redoubtable Mrs. Boyce, of course.”

“Yes, and you have seen how much use she is!” Clara laughed. “I love her dearly but she conceives that she will have failed in her duty if she does not marry me off, and so makes a present of me to every passing rake and fortune hunter. I believe they view me as the ideal Christmas gift.”

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