Clara’s cut-to-the-chase brain for the past two weeks had struck him hard as she was fascinating and honest. “Clara, you’re nothing like anyone I’ve ever met.”
She tucked her hands in her pockets. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He massaged his head. “It wasn’t…” But then he wasn’t sure how to say that she was the closest thing he had to a friend without insulting her. He changed what he'd been about to say. “So, go to your room and shower. Help will arrive soon for you to be ready.”
She turned to leave but then dropped her shoulder, glanced at him and came back. “Astorre, I want to say one thing.”
That she wouldn't marry him? Doubt was in her every nuance of her expression so he braced for the impact of rejection. “What’s that?”
She ran her hand through her hair that seemed to stick to her face. “I’m saying yes because I don’t want you to ever live without a dime, nuking ramen noodles as it's all you can afford. I… I like you and I don’t want to ruin your life.”
He deflated fast. This wasn’t what he'd expected. He walked across the room and clasped her hands. “Clara, you’re the only person I can imagine marrying--you are insightful, with your eyes wide open. I was ready to just start fresh.”
He hugged her.
He wasn’t sure when he'd last hugged anyone. Probably his sister, as hugging wasn’t something he usually did. Clara smelled a bit like vanilla, her clothes slightly damp. She said, “Well, I’m glad we met then.”
As his duchess her life would never be the same. Perhaps she was the perfect choice for the job as Modena wasn’t for the frivolous. “In a few hours you won't be just a baroness with a title to pass on, but my duchess. There is money in your life. Prepare yourself by ordering a few dresses from the dressmaker until we get back to Avce. But don’t expect to enjoy the estate. Many people blame my parents' deaths on the fact the entire house is haunted.”
Color grew on her face. “You’re seriously giving meWuthering Heightsvibes right now.”
“What?” All he remembered about that was an old book he was supposed to read back in high school.
She crossed her arms. “Just to be clear, you weren’t married before, and there is no wife haunting the attic?”
His eyes narrowed. “If I had been married before now, I wouldn't have to marry again by tomorrow.”
She let her arms down. “Right. Okay. Haunted set me off. I’m excited to meet your sister and see this house.”
He headed to the adjoining door and slightly closed it to give her privacy as he made his calls. “Clara, you’re seriously one in a million.”
“Good to know.” She winked at him and fully closed the door.
Every other woman he’d ever been with would have invited him into the shower with her. Clara was nothing like anyone he’d ever met, which was good. It was better to marry someone who could hold an intelligent conversation than someone clearly after his money, or a score. Things might work out. Anything was possible.
Chapter 3
Clara turned off the water for her shower just as she heard her phone ring.
Still wrapped in her towel, she headed toward her fully charged new phone, saw another missed call, and listened to the voicemails.
Astorre had been right. Somehow her birth parents had been nobles in Avce.
In high school it would have been nice to tell Grandmother May that she was leaving for some foreign estate and flounce off instead of just trek down the street with her backpack as she’d done. She loved movies where the American girl went to Europe because a parent or grandparent claimed them as royal.
And now it was her life. She could sing her giddiness, like in a musical, though she hadn’t the voice to dare.
Clara picked up her phone. If she called her only friend, she’d have to explain herself, and it was better to have an in-person conversation on why she'd married Astorre today.
Honestly she wasn’t sure of her motives…it was true that she didn't want him to suffer poverty. She’d never been kissed and now here she was…getting married. She thought that she'd wait for love, but time for her friend Astorre was running out. This wasn’t settling. Not when she was wrapped in a warmed bathrobe, her skin softened by fancy lotion that smelled like eucalyptus. And she’d have time for herself to maybe write instead of fixing someone’s lawn mower. She opted for texting.
Rossie, I haven't been ignoring you. I lost my phone at the airport.
She dug out her hairbrush and combed back the muted brown locks that had waves in odd places and was flat and straight in others. Her phonedinged and she read the reply,Did you get my voicemails?
Normally Clara was a better friend, but Rossie had been so happy that she hadn't worried for her and Clara had left the wedding with Astorre. She ignored how her body heated like she’d been caught doing something wrong. She typed back.Yeah. Kind of insane to think I inherited anything.
Rossie typed back as the three dots on the screen indicated. Clara put her hairbrush away to ensure her room was tidy. Her phonedinged and she read Rossie’s answer.You knew your parents had died.
