“If I can get her to take a carriage ride with me, I shall consider it a success,” Oliver smiled. He picked up the small, leather-bound notebook on his desk and opened it.
In it were the notes he had written before they came to London—a list of the places he would take Claire to when they both had the time.
It contained all the grand structures he knew she had been longing to see.
Perhaps a trip would do her good,he thought to himself.
In any case, this trip was long overdue, what with him getting swamped with work and Claire busy attending so many social events, as was expected of her as a debutante.
He had almost forgotten all this until Smithson mentioned it and thought that his steward deserved a raise in his salary for giving such good advice.
The next morning, after breakfast, he approached Claire in her favorite window seat.
“Claire,” he spoke quietly. “You have been cooped up in this townhouse for quite some time.”
“I do not wish to go out. It is also not proper to socialize whilst I am in mourning.”
He sighed. “I do not mean to ask you to socialize but…if you could accompany me on a carriage ride, we could tour the city and get a breath of fresh air. Any longer in this house and I fear I shall go mad.”
A faint smile traced itself across her lips. “What a fine idea.”
“You just tell me when you wish it and I shall have the carriage ready to take us around the city,” he said, finding it extremely difficult to keep the excitement from seeping in his tone.
She nodded and said, “Let me just get changed.”
“Now?”
She nodded and he hurried to have the groom ready the carriage for their use.
He grabbed the notebook from his study and tucked it into his coat pocket. While Claire readied herself, he talked to the coachman and told him the route they were going to take so that Claire could see all the buildings she wanted to see.
When she came down the stairs, he could not keep himself from thinking how beautiful she looked, even in her mourning attire.
But her smile is more beautiful, he thought and he swore to himself that he would see it returned to her face at least once throughout their entire carriage ride.
“I am glad that you decided to come with me today, Claire,” he told her.
She just nodded quietly to acknowledge him before she turned her eyes outside the carriage.
Seeing her sufficiently distracted, Oliver patted the small notebook tucked into his pocket and smiled, hoping his plan would work and that he could bring her out of her grief even for just a few moments.
* * *
As Claire stared outside the carriage, the sights around her seem to meld into a blur. For a moment, she thought she saw a familiar face—one that looked so similar to her father, before the overwhelming sadness kicked in and she realized he was gone forever.
“Is there somewhere you would want to go, Claire?” the Duke asked her. “We could just tell Finley where you want to go and we could go there.”
She shook her head. “Aside from Bond Street and Regent Street, I honestly have not been anywhere else,” she said hoarsely.
“And much of that is my fault,” he told her sadly. “I had promised you a tour of the city and I have been neglectful of my promises. Do forgive me.”
“There is no need to apologize, Your Grace. I have not exactly had much time for a tour myself, what with all the happenings of the Season.”
“Very well, then, if you would allow me, I shall take you on a grand tour around London so you can see everything you wished to see.”
For the first time since she received news of her father’s death, Claire felt her heart ease up. She glanced up at Oliver and found his dark eyes shining down on her and she fought hard to keep the tears from spilling out of her eyes.
“You are very kind to me, Your Grace,” she murmured.
