“That she does,” he smiled warmly.
“Very well then, I have kept you long enough,” she laughed, waving him off. “Last I saw, she was sitting by the window sill. She might have already seen you coming in from the street.”
Oliver gave her one last helpless smile before he bounded upstairs to search for Claire.
True enough, he found her seated by the window, her dark eyes staring sightlessly out into the street below.
Today, she was dressed in black bombazine and her hair was done up in a knot that was elegant in its simplicity. In her hand, she loosely clutched a small, leather-bound notebook he recognized as her journal.
When she heard him approach, he saw how her eyes lit up and he felt joy suffuse his entire being at the sight. As long as he was able to bring a smile on her face, he did not care if he had to spend an inordinate sum.
In that, his sister was right.
“Your Grace,” she murmured.
He tilted his head a little and noted that there was already a bit of color on her cheeks and lips. She was still much paler than she usually was but any improvement was good enough for him.
“How have you been, Claire?” he asked her softly, as he walked towards her.
“I have seen better days,” she smiled wanly at him. “Although, I am feeling much better.”
“That is good,” he nodded. “We must keep on living for those who have left us behind. They would not wish to see us despair.”
“It is quite hard, though,” she choked, the tears welling in her eyes.
Afraid that she would spiral into sadness once more, Oliver reached out for her hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. Her eyes were drawn briefly to the contact but she did not move to pull away or resist his touch.
“Well, there is something that I wish to give you,” he confided in her. He handed her the parcel. “The Viscount had been searching for this before he died. It was only yesterday, while we had been out on our carriage ride, that someone informed me that it was for sale.”
She accepted the package with some reluctance and Oliver was afraid she might refuse it.
“I suppose he wanted it for you,” he pressed her softly. “Your father would have wanted you to have it.”
She sniffled a little and flashed him a grateful smile. “Can I open it?”
He laughed. “It would be my greatest pleasure to see you open it, Claire.”
She smiled at him again before she pulled at the string that bound up the parcel. Gently, she unwrapped the brown paper that encased it and gasped when she saw what lay within.
It was a book but it was not just any book—it was a treatise on the recent architectural styles, with a collection of blueprints by some of the famed architects of their time.
Her brown eyes lit up with delight for the first time in weeks and a true smile blossomed on her lips. Oliver felt his heart constrict at the sight.
It looks just like the sun bursting out of the gloom. How magnificent!
Her very expression told him all he needed to know—that she had not expected this book and that it had pleased her greatly.
“Do you like it well, Claire?” he asked her.
She looked up at him with wonderment shining in her eyes as she clutched the book to her chest.
“Like it? Your Grace, it is the most wonderful thing I have ever laid my eyes on!”
You are the most wonderful thing I have ever laid my eyes on, he thought, but kept the words to himself. He could not afford to be so forward with her when she was still mourning the loss of her father.
It was already more than enough that he was able to help her during her most difficult time.
“Well, it has served its purpose wonderfully,” he grinned at her. “I could never find much use for it but Lord Rowley mentioned it before his passing and now, I feel that it most certainly belongs to you.” He smiled fondly at her. “I hope it can help you create grand masterpieces.”
