Sweet Awakening (31 page)

Their things were taken to his bedroom suite, and once the bags were set down and the footman had left, Giles dismissed Martha and joined Clare in her room. She was standing there, looking lost, and he was immediately drawn to her side.

“This is all rather too much for you, isn’t it, Clare?”

“I am sorry, Giles. It takes some getting used to. I have been Lady Rainsborough for two years now, and all of a sudden, I am Lady Whitton. This is not Devon, but Somerset ... and ...”

“And I am not Justin, only Giles.”

“Thank God for that, Giles,” responded Clare fervently.

“I told you on our wedding night I did not intend to rush things, Clare. The door between us will always be open, but I will wait for you to invite me into your bed.”

Clare blushed. “I am sorry, Giles.”

“There is no need to apologize, Clare. We will have a whole lifetime together.” Giles leaned down and dropped a gentle kiss on her lips. All his kisses had been gentle and nonintrusive, and for this Clare was grateful, for they stirred only a momentary response before fear took over. She wondered if that part of her was dead. If so, it would be fitting punishment for killing her husband. But even so, eventually she would have to walk through Giles’s door and pretend to a passion she might never feel again. All of a sudden, she felt an all too familiar exhaustion hit her.

“I think I would like to rest before coming down to dinner, Giles.”

“Of course, my dear.”

* * * *

Clare spent the next week in bed. She would wake in the morning, have tea and toast in her room, summon enough energy to get up, but once at her dressing table, would be utterly overcome by the idea of leaving her bedroom and entering into her new life. She would return to bed and sleep the mornings away. She then ate a light lunch in her room, and after reading only a few pages of her book or leafing through the latest
La Belle Assemblee,
she would slide under the covers and sleep again.

She felt like something thrown up by the tide, a tide that was at its lowest ebb. A tide that might never run again, never flow back to float her, to bring her back into life. Even the thought of how she must be disappointing Giles couldn’t move her.

Giles was disappointed, of course, but also worried. He had imagined that he and Clare would rediscover the camaraderie they had enjoyed on her summer visits, and here he was, eating alone, sleeping alone, riding alone. That was not precisely true, of course, for he had Sabrina, who was there to reassure him. After the first three days, they summoned the family physician, who confirmed Sabrina’s opinion that there was nothing physically wrong with Clare.

“Lady Whitton is suffering from complete exhaustion, Giles,” the doctor announced. “Perhaps suffering isn’t the right word,” he added. “Really her body is only doing what it needs to do to restore itself. She has been through a lot these past months. You will have to be patient.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“You were right, Sabrina,” Giles admitted after the doctor had gone.

“Give her time, Giles.”

Giving Clare almost a fortnight seemed like giving her forever. But when at last she came downstairs, Giles had to admit that she looked much better than she had in months. The shadows were gone from under her eyes, and despite the fact that she hadn’t been eating that much, she had clearly put on a little weight.

She appeared for breakfast one morning without an announcement after Giles and Sabrina had seated themselves.

“Clare!” exclaimed Sabrina, who saw her first. “Should you be up?”

Clare laughed. “After all this time, I certainly hope so, Sabrina. I feel very well. And I wasn’t really sick, you know. I don’t know what came over me, but I needed to rest.”

“I guess so,” said Giles with a teasing smile. “It is wonderful to see you up, Lady Whitton. Will you join us for breakfast?”

“I am quite ravenous,” Clare admitted.

Giles gestured to a footman to fill her plate and watched happily as she ate almost everything on it.

“Do you have special plans for today, Giles?" Clare asked, after setting her fork down and looking at her almost empty plate in surprise.

Giles had planned to ride over to the northwest corner of the estate to confer with one of their tenants, but immediately decided that the errand could wait for a day or two. So he said, “No, not really. Although it is a lovely day for a ride. Do you care to join me?”

Clare smiled over at him. “I was hoping I could, Giles. Sabrina,” she added, turning to his sister. “Will you join us?”

Sabrina had seen the eager look in her brother’s eyes and shook her head. “Unfortunately I am committed elsewhere. I promised I would help the housekeeper in the stillroom.”

It was a beautiful day: sunny and warm, but with enough of a breeze to make it comfortable for riding. Giles picked one of their favorite short rides from summers past: one that led them along the cornfields and into a small wood that was the boundary between Whitton and Squire Kirkman’s. They enjoyed several easy canters across the fields, and then dismounted and led their horses through the wood, enjoying a companionable silence. When they reached their destination, an old and familiar fallen tree, Clare laughed.

“I confess I had forgotten about this place, Giles,” she said as she handed her reins into his outstretched hands and sat herself down on the moss-covered trunk.

Giles tied the horses and sat next to her.

“This has always been one of my favorite places on the estate,” said Giles.

Clare gazed around. It was an almost perfectly circular clearing, surrounded by tall oak trees with one gap through which the sun poured in a shaft of light.

“It is almost magical.”

Giles covered Clare’s hand with his. “It feels like something akin to magic to be here with you, Clare. To have you as my wife.”

“I hope I can be a good wife to you, Giles,” she said almost in a whisper. Her hand was still under his, and she was very conscious of his thigh pressing against hers. She glanced up at him, and it was as though she saw him for the first time: the glint of green in his eyes, the pulse beating in his tanned neck, and the combination of both strength and tenderness that made up the curve of his mouth.

Giles reached out, removed her riding hat, and smiled as her blond curls sprang free. He brushed his hand through them and moved even closer. Clare’s breathing quickened with a small, sharp intake of breath, and Giles leaned down and placed his lips on hers. It was a gentle kiss, like all he had given her, but longer. When she did not shrink from him, Giles pulled her into his arms and sought to deepen the kiss by teasing her mouth open. It was everything she had hoped for from him that summer years ago, and she responded eagerly. Yet almost immediately as she felt herself beginning to enjoy the embrace, she felt herself becoming scared. Her passionate feelings for Justin had only led to confusion and pain, both physical and emotional. The only experiences she had had with physical love were with a man who alternately loved her until she died again and again in his arms, and then hated her. How could she trust her body’s responses again?

Giles could feel the point at which she drew back. It seemed to be at the exact moment she began to relax into him and respond to his kiss. For a few seconds, there had been a warm and willing woman in his arms, and then a passive statue.

Clare did not have to say a word, for Giles let her go instantly.

“I promised I would not rush you, Clare, and I will keep my promise.”

“I did not ask you to stop, Giles,” said Clare, feeling like she had failed him.

“You did not have to, my dear. I know you would allow me to kiss you, Clare. Perhaps even allow me to make love to you. But I want more than your passive acceptance.”

Although Giles spoke patiently and lovingly, Clare felt terrible. She didn’t know how to explain her feelings to him, for she barely understood them herself. She
was
a passionate lover, she had been with Justin. But that part of herself terrified her. Logically, she knew that Giles was not Justin; that he would
never
treat her like her late husband had. But logic and reason didn’t seem to make her irrational fear go away. It was physical attraction, and her newly discovered capacity for sensual enjoyment that had led her into her disastrous marriage. Those feelings seemed dangerous and destructive, and she was not sure she could open herself up in that way to anyone again. And yet, if she could not, she was cheating Giles of everything he wanted and deserved in a wife.

“I am so sorry, Giles” was all she could think to say to him.

He patted her shoulder. “It is all right, Clare. We have all the time in the world.”

* * * *

Giles took every opportunity in the next few weeks to express his affection in ways that Clare could accept. He knew, almost to the second, just how long she would remain responsive to his kisses and just when she would pull back. He would think to himself that he was lucky to be a naturally patient man and one for whom passion was only a part of love. An important part, of course, but not one that would cause him to lose control with Clare. He had loved her for a long time, and he would for a long time to come. He had great faith that she would come to respond to his undemanding love. If not tomorrow, then soon.

In the meantime, he was happy to watch Clare begin to look and act like her old self. By the end of a month, she had regained all the weight she had lost the last two years. But although she wanted to begin learning the ways of the house, Giles insisted that she let Mrs. Stanton remain in charge for a little while longer. “I want you to enjoy this summer, Clare. To pretend that the last two years never happened.”

She and Giles and Sabrina rode and picnicked, and when Andrew More arrived for his visit at the beginning of August, he was amazed at the transformation.

“You look wonderful, Clare,” he exclaimed as he got down from his chaise. She put out both her hands to grasp his, and he marveled that the wraithlike Lady Rainsborough had been transformed into a healthy-looking young woman whose blond curls had been bleached by the sun and whose dresses were no longer hanging off her. Andrew pulled her into his arms and gave her a friendly hug.

“Now, Andrew, who gave you permission to embrace my wife,” said Giles with mock anger. “And is your only greeting for her?”

Andrew released Clare and turning to his friend, pounded his shoulder. “I see you have wrought something of a miracle, Giles,” he said. “Marriage to you seems to have been just what Clare needed.”

Sabrina, who was beside Giles, wondered when Andrew would remember her presence. She had enjoyed the last few weeks, for summer at Whitton was always her favorite time of the year. But although Giles and Clare were not enjoying a typical honeymoon, and she was included in most of their activities, she could not help feeling a third wheel at times.

Maybe her brother did not have the perfect marriage yet. But he was married to the woman he had loved for years, while she seemed likely to end up the spinster aunt to her brother’s children when they began to come along. She had been looking forward to Andrew’s visit, hoping that during their time together she could determine whether there was any feeling for her on his part or whether it was all her own fantasy, and here he was, ignoring her.

Andrew was very well aware of Sabrina. Indeed, although his delight at seeing Clare was genuine, his hug was as much a way to keep from embracing Sabrina as it was a spontaneous gesture of affection for Clare. It was very hard for him to keep his feelings for Giles’s sister under wraps, but he had schooled himself well, and turned to her at last, giving her a quick smile and a friendly greeting.

Sabrina’s heart sank. Nothing had changed. Andrew was still acting the friend of the family role he always had. Perhaps it wasn’t a role. Just because she could sense what her twin was feeling did not mean she could intuit another man’s reactions, Sabrina scolded herself. She wanted Andrew to want her. So much so that she had likely deceived herself and built little nothings into something. But she kept the smile on her face and welcomed him to Whitton and directed the footman to bring his bags up to the west wing where she had given him the bedroom he had always occupied.

“You know we keep country hours here, Andrew,” she said, “but we have moved dinner back an hour so that you will have time to rest and freshen up before you join us.”

“Thank you, Sabrina. You have always been the most thoughtful hostess.”

* * * *

And that is what she remained for the next few days: a most gracious hostess. Andrew should have been grateful. After all, the more polite distance there was between them, the easier it was for him to ignore his feelings for Sabrina. But in London they had become a little closer to one another, had, he thought, started to become friends, not just through their relationship to Giles. He thought Sabrina had come to appreciate him for himself and his efforts on Clare’s behalf. But perhaps now that Clare was safely married to her brother, she was no longer interested in a barrister who worked so closely with criminals.

So be it: he could be as polite and distantly friendly as she.

* * * *

Giles, who had watched Sabrina move from disapproval to admiration of Andrew in London, couldn’t help but notice her behavior. Not that there was anything untoward about it: she was friendly and always appeared as though she was enjoying Andrew’s company. But as her twin, he could tell that she was unhappy in some way, and so one afternoon when Andrew had gone off to the village and Clare was taking a nap, Giles joined his sister in the garden where she was directing the gardener.

After she finished, he put his hand on her arm and said, “Come, sit down with me, Brina.”

They strolled over to the oak bench and watched the gardener and his assistant fill their basket with flowers for the house. As they moved out of earshot, Giles asked his sister if anything was bothering her.

“Why no, why do you ask, Giles?”

“Because you have been so damned
friendly
to Andrew.”